As far as I have known life is not all rainbows and sunshine. This is nothing new. Day in and day out most of us are living paycheck to paycheck. The "thriving" middle and lower class citizens. Enthusiastic about the little we may have to spend on extra, unnecessary items. This is the way that society has brought us up. Cradling us in her arms in childhood and adolescence before throwing us to the sharks in adulthood. I strive for some sort of meaning to all. When I was younger I never quite understood this process. With a middle/lower class much larger than the high class, why have we not all come together to revolt against the way that society is? I guess part of me has always realized that some of us are content with the way our lives are now. The struggle of life is not a new concept for humans. We busy ourselves with mundane tasks to ignore the obvious surrounding us. It wasn't until this morning when I felt absolute suffering for another human that I started questioning this again. I know what you are thinking, the Buddhist is ranting about suffering! Let me give you a picture of what I saw. I was waiting for a prescription after a doctors appointment to help me sleep. I was nervously awaiting the dreaded co-pay that most medicine requires and staring at an unruly child who was definitely not wanting to go to the doctor. An older gentlemen around 70 I assume walked up to the pharmacy window. In a gentle voice he said he needed his heart medication and handed the pharmacist his slip of paper. The pharmacist glanced at him and promptly asked for an insurance card. The older gentlemen fumbled with his wallet and glanced back up to say he didn't have any. The pharmacist insisted that the medication wasn't expensive and it would only cost the man one hundred dollars for both. Once he said that, the man told him he didn't have any way to pay. He inquired that his son usually got him his medication but he was away on business. The pharmacist looked unamused and said there was no way to bill him and he'd have to come back when he actually had money to cover. I looked at the old man, trying not to stare as he folded up his slip of paper. His eyes filled with tears and his face filled with shame as he made slowly made his way out of the building. It was hard not to feel some sort of compassion for this man. Who knows maybe that medicine was really important to him. I felt like someone should step up and say the policy was wrong. If it's a life threatening situation how could you not supply someone with the medicine they need to feel better?