There is a suffering and confusion a part of existence that we all know and feel yet seem to so often struggle to grant others. To not see the so obviously unobvious thing behind everything, to hate, to seek vengeance, to frequently act on anger, to declare certainty in almost anything, all contradict the very struggle and confusion of life that bring us so much pain in the first place. How often do we turn minor inconveniences into major ones due to this lack of consideration? Or worse yet, how often do we turn tragedies of random circumstance into tragedies of hatred?
