Clouded by privilege, I stood at the doorstep of a popular downtown boutique coffee shop with an embarrassing amount of excitement. It had been more than twelve calendar months since I had first discovered the very Instagram-able artisan café on social media and suffice to say, I was elated when my off-site work meeting unexpectedly left me at the trendy portico of my Instagram feed.

Greeting my senses, enthusiasm, and inevitably the lens of my iPhone camera would soon be a frothy beautifully crafted and very Instagram-able oak milk latte set against the—overplayed, but still appreciated—industrial chic aesthetic of exposed bricks, subway tile and marble laid counter tops.

The clatter of spoons against ceramic, the whistle of steam from the espresso machine, the hum and beat of a crowded café were accompanying my $6 latte with a variety of vegan, gluten-free, and even CBD indulgences.

Counting my macronutrients, I opened My Fitness Pal app to log my latte and determine if I could allot in my day enough carbs and fat to treat myself to a chia seed pudding (served in a throw away miniature mason jar).

As I turned to pay, I was struck by the jarring juxtaposition from the floor-to-ceiling window view. Directly outside, serving as almost a living art exhibit of the hypocrisy of the American dream, was a tent city. Homeless, starving, and seemingly unnoticed were dozens of unfortunate men and women bustling about their day while we, patrons of the café, sat sterile, privileged, fed, and disengaged on the other side of the glass.

There are no words or easy solutions for the complexities of the reality that exist for millions of homeless women, men and children in America. Our country, as great as it is, struggles to provide adequate mental health and drug treatment for our most at-risk citizens. Working individually and collectively to better the lives of every human being should be in our hearts and on the forefront of our minds, but in truth, we are all caught on the other side of the glass--living with so much privilege that we have time to get lost in the weeds of the things that don’t matter.

Wherever you find yourself in this very moment—likely safe, dry, warm, fed, loved, and without fears of basic survival—peek above the weeds of all that doesn’t matter so that you can see what and whom needs to be seen.