Comfort breeds contempt for the blessings that constitute one's existence, and is therefore extremely dangerous for the one who seeks proximity to The One. She who is not frequently reminded of how unconditionally dependent she is upon the Divine Mercy permits the seed of self-reliance to germinate, which, like an uncontainable vine, soon strangles the life out of her heart, leaving it cold, hard, and conceited. Woe the wayfarer who is not frequently exposed to her own limitations, for she has not had the chance to pick up the pieces of a life in tatters with newly gentle hands. Neither has she perceived the lives of others through the eyes of true mercy, for it is only the rarest human who can demonstrate compassion for something she has not personally tasted. More often than not, distress is the access point for Reality. It is only catastrophe that has the capacity to deconstruct the carefully weaved web of miscalculations we wrap our existence in, like a clement wrecking ball t