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52238Moments of High Saturation

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  • dick.richardson@rocketmail.com
    Jul 1 3:47 AM
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      Moments of High Saturation



      Whilst still on the subject of Quality. Let us liken this to ourselves
      being like a jug, a pint glass, and that a pint glass is only being
      fulfilled and fulfilling life when it is full up to a certain level
      with the stuff that goes into a pint glass. Let us say that the stuff
      which is going into the pint glass is called Wonderment. In this I do
      not mean sitting wondering about things I mean wonderful – full of
      wonder. You know what I mean well enough. What is the daily dose of
      this nectar for the average person on earth? How full is their glass
      on an average day? Nobody can know that but for themselves, for it is
      private stuff. Let us say that if the glass is half full then one is
      living a wonderful enough life.



      Let us say that perhaps on any average day the average person is
      running on one quarter full, and that is fine, OK, good enough. Let us
      say that if it runs down to one eighth full then one is thinking about
      doing something to try and brighten the day and cheer themselves up.
      What if the glass is empty? What if the glass is empty day after day
      for a long time? How do they feel then? What do they do then?



      How does one feel when the glass is three quarters full? How does one
      feel on the day when the glass is full up to the brim and cannot take
      any more? How does one feel when there is a cloud burst of this stuff
      and the glass is not only full up but it is spilling all over the top
      running down the outside and the glass itself is standing up to its neck
      in the stuff, inner and outer? I only knew that once, for about one
      hour. It was too much and I could not take any more of it, I could not
      handle it; could not cope with it. Not up to it. In the book I called
      that day the Consummatum Incarnate. You can read about it there if you
      are interested. But since that day the glass has always remained full,
      every day. Albeit not splashing all over the sides, for I cannot cope
      with that. One day maybe, if I am ever turned into a two pint glass. But
      even that would have overflowed that day. How much of this stuff is
      there? Where does it come from? Well, I found a few of the answers,
      but let us not go into that here.



      But this of course raises the question as to what if the glass has a
      lid on it, and the glass itself refuses to open that lid or let it be
      opened. Then plainly none of the stuff can get in. However, you think
      about that if the cap fits. But life cannot get in unless it is allowed
      in.



      A good measure of this stuff on an average daily basis is half full.
      Why? Because we have things to do, things which we have to get on with
      out of needs must. The grass must be cut, the hay gathered in, the kids
      fed, the dishes washed; so many things. And with the glass half full
      then one can get ones mind and concentration around other things, and
      get them done. One cannot do that yet with a full galls. Fully fledged
      Home Ensophicus could cope with that. But not Homo Sapiens.



      But despite all that, and true though it is, it must be reasonably
      common for all people to have those brief moments in life where the
      glass is more of less full up; and if only for a moment or an hour or
      two. You must have known such moments sublime amid the day. That alone,
      and without all the mystical and transcendent highlights, is enough to
      keep one going. A good many people commit suicide for this or that
      reason usually known only to themselves, and it can get black and empty
      at times for all or at least most people. Why don't they all kill
      themselves? I don't think it is really due to a fear of doing it but
      rather due to the hope that tomorrow, just around the next bend, the
      sun might be shining. For they have tasted it before. It can and does
      come back. And we can leave this world with a smile when that time
      inevitably comes of its own accord. Never fear, for the STUFF is near,
      and the river flows back to the sea.



      Dick Richardson









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