Never before has a film touched me so profoundly. As a laid-off, job-hunting new bride thrust into becoming a housewife, when I planned to remain a type-A career woman, I was fuzzy about what life was supposed to be. On our new one-income budget, my new husband and I don't have extra funds for entertainment. So he popped in the movie, "City of Joy" for our Saturday night theatre. When I saw the horrible conditions these Indians live in, suddenly our one-bedroom apartment seemed like a palace. The job that a main character treasured so much was a task I thought only mules performed. But he took so much pride in this dirty, exhausting job, and was so grateful to serve daily to support his family. Suddenly, the standards I'd set for myself seemed completely unnecessary. Of course I want more, but during this film viewing, I realized I don't need it. As minimalist as I thought I was, what I call suffering is paradise to these people. Americans take our fortune for granted. Seeing people live without things we throw away taught me that you don't have to waste tears and heartache crying over what you don't own. There is much joy to found in things like friendship, caring for others, and family. After the basic needs of food, clothing and shelter are met, the rest is gravy. I have even less money in the bank today than Saturday night. But I feel ten times richer, having watched "City of Joy". I feel some of my neurotic worrying over money melting away, and I am cherishing everything I do have. Things will get better. But until they do, I learned from this movie that they're already good. You can't put a price on peace of mind.