Let the Mother wash away all your small dreams of transcendence. Rest into the discomfort of incompleteness, the imperfection of this mundane world. Of our ordinary life with its ordinary pains and it’s ordinary joys. There is no escape from this condition. Nothing will ever fulfill you. Nothing. Feel the hopelessness from which truth sprouts. The blessed poverty that redeems. Offer it all up to God. Nothing less passes through the eye of the Needle. And She can’t use you unt