Tragedy of materialistic proportions

I tend to get caught up, to some degree, within the materialistic values of life and I often hate myself for it. I know deep down it's far better to have health, happiness and love in your life over a big pot of cash; although it still does not stop me from playing the National Lottery each week - does that make me a hypocrite? 

Maybe, but I work hard for my money, to pay the bills, to have a nice home, to go on holiday and enjoy a half decent level of existence. And work, no matter how much you may enjoy it, can become a little tiresome at times, allowing daydreams to float towards winning a few million pounds and never worrying about anything again. It's human nature, I guess it's within all of us. If I have a saving grace it's the fact that I recognise my failures in this respect. 

To compound this notion there's nothing like a good tragedy to bring it to the forefront. Without over exemplifying last night I was possibly given a choice between material goods and my health; and I chose my health.  It was not an easy choice but in the heat of the moment I think it was a correct decision; and tonight, in quiet reflection I comprehend the true benefit of materialistic values - they're worth nothing, it's meaningless. And health, happiness and love?  Well I'm still in one piece, alive and breathing - that will do for now.