Comforts

The definition of comfort that I am interested in is the one that involves making our lives easier.
This definition makes me think of how comfort has upstaged passion/interest as a prime mover in our lives.
Of course, this is no value judgement, but it has always seemed to me that comforts are meant to be conveniences, things that exist in order for us to do better that which we are supposed to be doing. I find that comfort (and eventually luxury) is now not a mere convenience, but is an end in itself.

What is more important?

Happiness or satisfaction?
You can be happy to get something and yet unsatisfied because you haven't got enough.
You can be satisfied that you did your duty and yet deeply unhappy that you had to make a sacrifice for it.

A case of mistaken theism

The lady who stood besides the religious warrior had spent a lifetime criticizing his faith. He had just killed her in a suicide bomb-blast.
He was puzzled by the injustice. Here he was in heaven, religious warrior, having blown himself in the name of his god. Here she was, an embodiment of all the hatred that was in his heart. Surely, she was going to pay for all the blasphemy she had committed in her faithless life.
The Angels ushered them in for judgement. God almighty spoke to the two of them, in a beautiful baritone, "My Children, you have served me well. You have prayed well and you have done all that was expected of you. You shall live in heaven in this life, the hereafter, as you called it on earth."
The lady wore a confused look, as did the warrior. They were happy, the two of them, since they were not going to hell. But they were both puzzled. Both were afraid of questioning God almighty, especially since he had been kind to them.
While being escorted to the garden, the warrior struck up a conversation with an angel. "Angel Machaiela, may peace be upon you, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure, my brother, please do."
"I followed my religion all my life and for that I have been justly rewarded."
"You have, my brother, you deserve it."
"But why has that evil woman been rewarded?"
"Evil? No, our angels have mentioned in their dispatches that she was pious and recited her prayers four times a day."
"She used to, but she became a blaspheming apostate and spoke against the Lord our God"
"My friend, two thousand years ago I probably would have opened an investigation into this allegation and we would have found out the truth about this lady, but you see, our angel brothers and sisters are overworked. We haven't been able to keep track of all activities of every human. So what has been recorded, stays. When we recorded her thoughts and deeds, she was fifteen years old and did everything expected of her. That was a long time ago, but that is the last record we have of her thoughts and deeds."
"But I thought God knew everything and recorded each and everything...."
"Brother, are you questioning God's judgement?"
"I dare not, but the injustice, the sheer injustice, it makes my life seem pointless"
"Nay, my brother, stop. Enjoy the fruits of the garden and your life here. Love all, since you are all God's children."
Having spoken thus, Machaiela disappeared from the scene, leaving the warrior alone with the lady.
At the first given opportunity, he lunged at her and tried to strangle her, but he was unable to. They had retained their thoughts, somewhat magically, but did not retain the matter of their bodies. She smiled at him and just continued to walk.
She was disappointed, of course, since she had been sure that there was no such thing as heaven, but she was happy that the prayers she had said thirty years ago were useful eventually.
The warrior sunk to the ground, helpless. In the distance, beyond an ethereal lake he could see his neighbor, a Kiskotist, seemingly enjoying himself, playing in the celestial waters. The warrior began to weep.