Since life appears to be nothing more than a broken heart or more correctly an almost infinite series of broken hearts that one endures from conception until death, the only way I can make any sense of it at all is to be kind to myself and all other beings. Being angry at myself or all others just seems to make everything worse than it is and to make life a completely futile endeavor.
Only by kindness and compassion as a daily practice towards myself and all beings is there any meaning or usefulness to life at all. Otherwise why live in a body here on earth?
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