A Time When Nothing is Sacred

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We are at in time when nothing is sacred,
Where no holds are barred,
Where no rules stand,
Where no law goes unbroken,
Where no experience is chained by constraint,
Where the infinity of imagination is bound only by its own limits.

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And what will come of it?

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Though you may regurgitate
What someone wants to hear,
They cannot change your mind.

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You cannot stop stupid people from doing stupid things.

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Give yourself the peace
You so eloquently encourage
Others to seek.

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Do not be blinded by your memory.
It counts for little.

* * * *
The days and nights pass so quickly slow.
You can feel death wandering the horizon.

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Godness is oneness,
And oneness includes youness.

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War brings peace, and peace, war.

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When did the beginning begin?
When will the ending end?
When nothing begins, nothing ends.

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How can anyone or anything be more or less divine?

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What a clever little monkey you are.

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Time is growing short.

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Even Satan is born of the eternal one.

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Whatever it is, whatever it is not,
To be content with everything you witness
Is challenge enough for any mortal.

A God Eat God World

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It’s a god eat god world.

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A mystery too vast for any explanation.

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A mystery solved in a moment of unconditioned insight.

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Another turn of a page in the same book.

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So much ado about nothing.

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When you were very young,
Every moment was timelessly effortless.
To be born again is to embrace the essential nature,
To be the eternity of awareness without harbor for want or concern,
To resume being the utter simplicity of absoluteness
Which we all equally once upon a time
So very innocently were.

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A culture with no vision is a culture in decline.

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It does not matter who wrote this.
What matters is that it was written.

* * * *
Our self-absorbed hedonistic greed
Will be the poverty of those to come.

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But through your own choosing,
You are not bound today
To repeat what was done yesterday.
Nor tomorrow, repeat whatever will be done today.

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You have never really done anything wrong.
The threats of heaven and hell are groupthink mantras,
Concepts to bend fearful minds to one limited mythos or another.

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Questions of a thousand dreams,
What to do with what you see.

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The transcendent mind trumps all.

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Suffering is the taproot of hell.

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A mystery theater brought to you by the unknown.

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All your wanting this or that is imagined,
And all it brings is temporary respite
From the suffering and confusion.

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Why feel sorrow that this world no longer appeals to you?
Why anguish that what it offers only parches the soul?
Enjoy the joyful wander of your eternal solitude.

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How do we play it?
One for all and all for one?
Or none for all and all for none?

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What obligation can a madman have?

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Guides can only point the way.
The journey is for each to make alone
With all the joy and suffering the trail entails.

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The beginner sees nothing and thinks it something.
The master sees something and thinks it nothing.

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Pain is the teaching that leads the student home.

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Awareness of one’s foolishness
Can bring it to a very abrupt halt.

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What is lust but a projection of one’s own vanity?

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All divisions are concocted by the mind,
The grand weaver of the matrix of time.

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You are all the experiences
Your seed line in time offers.

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All are one.

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Only the great keeper of time knows
Where such thoughts as these eventually lead.
Yet, whatever function it may someday play, it will only be
But another dreamy page in the epoch of man.

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Consciousness,
Great or humble, strong or weak,
Is, despite all assertions,
Only consciousness.

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Cotton candy,
Despite all the fluff,
Is ever the same sugar.

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His story, her story,
Whoever’s narrative it may be,
All accounts are merely projected perceptions.
Subjective in every imaginable way.
We are all flawed witnesses.

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A different body, a different character, a different fate,
Would only inspire a different illusion, a different delusion.

* * * *
This work is an invasion upon time’s mischievous shore.

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What need for an imaginary friend
If you are your own best companion?

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What do you find irresistible in another
But the reflection you most favor?

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Same clay,
Just a different day.

* * * *
You are but a sensory play of godness
Waxing and waning in eternity’s dreaming.

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When it comes to religion,
Why feel at all obliged to choose
Between imperfect options?

* * * *
What we call growing up
Is really the sculpting of infinite potential
Into one inflexible rut or another.

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Satan is an imaginary enemy.
God is an imaginary friend.
Narcissistic tomfoolery.

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Saving souls from imaginary futures
Is surely an incomprehensible mystery.

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Such a twisted species we are, we are.

* * * *
So many reading the scriptures
End up have no insight whatsoever
Into what the scribes of old truly meant.
What an ironic mystery that so many seek
What so few are prepared to find.

* * * *
You have been taught to read,
But you must also learn how.

* * * *
What is a so-called cynic but an idealist
Whose capacity for observation
Is not yet well-honed.

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Any system is only as efficient as those who use it.

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A man without enemies may well be a fool.

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When any given physical entity ceases to exist,
That version of the universes evaporates forever.

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What an amazing thing, imagination.

* * * *
Apologies for not being able to offer more than words.
We all must each alone pan for our own gold.

* * * *
Everything has its pluses and minuses
In the relativity of timebound manifestation.

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Sometimes self-absorbed.
Sometimes Self-absorbed.
Hard to be one all the time.

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The eyes have many faces.

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The wind is indifferent to nook or cranny.

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It is not always easy to accept
That everything breaks, disappears or dies,
And, at some point, so will you.

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Be alert to the probability that you
Have likely only fabricated another prison.

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You don’t have to own something
To perceive its essential nature.

* * * *
Within every seed
There is an architectural plan.
A birth, a role, a play, a destiny, a death.
Every seed spawns a witnessing.
Without it, you are nothing.

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Vanity and pride,
The avarice of the mind,
Knows no limits.

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If you’re still following,
You’ve missed the point.

* * * *
The suspension of reason
Is the ground for all confusion and delusion.
The surest course to coherent thinking
Requires unrelenting doubt.

* * * *
We are all just recordings,
Echoes etched in mind.

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The unending timeless moments
Of which all in stillness are capable.

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The things about which
You are only partially concerned
Inevitably descend into great disrepair.

* * * *
Every garden must be pruned and weeded now and again.
Some will call it Armageddon or some such thing,
But that is only delusion and ignorance.
The rules of the game are clear
To all who see clearly.

* * * *
Few crave freedom to its ultimate end.

* * * *
A healthy body is one that is not yet distracting you
With the countless forms of pain of which it is capable.

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Dogma is created by those who lack the vision
To clearly comprehend that they are really
The original architect of their own law,
Even if they adopt another’s.

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Science deals only with what can be measured in space and time.
It cannot fully acknowledge intuition because its foundation
Disintegrates when the unknown is acknowledged.

* * * *
All traditions are born of geographic assumption.
Like the seven blind men believing the elephant
Is one part or another, all conclusions are limited.

* * * *
No experience bears the winds of time.
Only in the timeless awareness
Is experiencing real.

* * * *
Anyone thinking they can possess truth
Is waving around a bag of empty concepts.

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That which is prior to knowing
Is the eternal life you seek.

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The web of wanting
Crisscrossing the limited mind
Offers no serenity.

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Unattached breathing
Is the manifest ebb and flow
Of the ocean within.

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Depending on its level of entropy,
Every successful adaptation
Must eventually face its demise.

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The buddhas, christs and other mystics
Feel so acutely the suffering of existence
That they travel within the ends of the world
To discern the eternal causeless nature,
Which is the origin of all dreaming.

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How we would laugh at other creatures
If they named themselves and their worlds,
Yet we delude our fabrications so real, so true.

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Irony, irony, all is irony.

* * * *
What are these thoughts
But another useless distraction
Brought to you by a mind of our kind.

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Discerning the eternal
Is not about becoming something.
It is about complete surrender to the beingness,
Of all manifestation, the matrix of totality.

* * * *
The keepers of any given religion have no interest
In your really discerning the source within.
It would compel them to get a job,
And maybe, just maybe,
Even come up with a real life.

* * * *
The boulder is but a speck of dust in your eye.

* * * *
Your true aura is so huge
That it cannot be conceived,
Much less perceived.

* * * *
How many forms godness attires itself in
In its timeless, illusionary sojourn
Are beyond counting.

* * * *
It is consciousness,
With all its attachments
To mind and body,
That suffers so,
Not the you
You really are.

* * * *
The foolish jester wanders where he pleases
In whatever manner intuitive spontaneity allows.
As dazzling as the sun, as anonymous as the breeze,
As still as a mountain, as unknown as the ocean’s depths.
As articulate as any creation, as dumb as any rock.
Blind to space and time, yet caught in its web,
Waiting for the spider’s hungry will
To feast upon the lifeblood
Of vain existence.

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After all is said and done,
What difference to an atom,
The building block of all illusion.

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Why does life strive so to survive in so many ways?
Because that is the way it is.

* * * *
In one form or another,
What have you not experienced
In this dreamy exposition of consciousness?

* * * *
If you haven’t already realized it,
This is one of those serendipitous works
In which you often seem to come upon a reflection
That you in time are most primed to mull.

* * * *
Some might deposit this scribe in a shallow grave
If they were to realize these writings are analogous to the story
Of the lone stonecutter bit by bit chipping away
In the bowels of the mountain.

* * * *
A stream of consciousness,
And though many may often seem alike,
You will likely never discover
Any given aphorism
Written exactly the same.

* * * *
Do with this exertion what you will, but be advised,
Do not WWMD: “What Would Michael Do?”
Never imitate nor attempt to play out
Any space-time but your own.

* * * *
All questions, all concerns,
Find serene closure in the singularity
Beneath the expansive brow.

You Are the Universe

* * * *
You are the universe that is uncreated
Intractable, invisible, inexplicable,
Unknowable and indivisible.
But to the inner eye.

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You are closer to it than you think.

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The Soul is not an individual, personified thing.

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So many causes founded
Upon that which is causeless.

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Imagination’s manifestation.

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You cannot perceive any movement
But through the relativity of stillness.

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All the theatrics of light
Are merely the play of refraction
As perceived by the eye of the perceiver.

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Be here now.
Tomorrow will give you the opportunity
To be here now then.

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The wealth valued by the idolatrous mind
Only creates more insecurity and suffering.

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It means whatever you believe it means.
Maybe.

* * * *
Regrets are only another means
For the mind to dally in distraction.

* * * *
Religions are merely parasitic institutions
Which more often than not disable
Those they claim to serve.

* * * *
The known born of the garden
Has blinded humankind
To its eternal reality.

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A free mind is not bound by any experience.

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Who will ever read this?
The nowhere folk, of course.

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The body is the vessel,
The mind the tiller,
The heart the sail,
The world the sea,
And the soul the wind.

* * * *
Just another metaphor to grasp and release.

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How many children
Are not born merely of lust,
Frivolous whim, or familial obligation?

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At what point do you let go of

Prejudice and hate can only dissipate
When intelligence sees through
The myriad differences.

* * * *
Form and function must be in balance,
Else the teetering mix will inevitably create
Unreconcilable confusion and havoc.

* * * *
Your trials are your own,
But they are not so different
From anyone else’s as you might
Mistakenly wish to believe.

* * * *
A philosopher is a lawyer
Trying to recover his soul.

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Sounded good at the time, anyway.

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It’s old, new, and the future, too.

* * * *
Biology in time being what it is,
You must become more disciplined, not less.
The secret to good health that has never really been a secret,
Ever remains: Eat right, eat less, walk more.
You got given what you got given.
Take care, or pay a price.

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Set your sights only on differences,
And that is all you will see.
Set them on unity,
And you will be all that is.

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In an unbound mind,
The flower of the eternal
Blossoms unrestrained.

* * * *
To claim god exists
Is to utterly misunderstand
The nature of eternity.

* * * *
Joy is unity with the quantum hum.

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Another imaginary soul.

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To drift without meaning or purpose
Is the purest state of awareness.

* * * *
Imagination’s wispy dream materializes yet again.

* * * *
Damnation realized.

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Very challenging to be honest with your Self
When caught up in the web of self imagery.

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Aren’t there enough stories for us to see
How they are all fundamentally the same?

* * * *
There is no novelty that does not eventually lose its sheen.

* * * *
Nothing means nothing.

* * * *
Cute does not necessarily equal good.

* * * *
Forewarned does not necessarily mean forearmed.

* * * *
Lacking vision,
We totter through a hell
Of our own making.

* * * *
It’s not the good who die young,
It’s the lucky.

* * * *
New age, old age,
What age is any age
But another now.

* * * *
Even it you never once discern the truth of it,
You are it, have ever been it, will ever be it.

* * * *
Despite all its assertions,
Humankind is not the be all,
End all of the universe.

* * * *
How bored the absentee landlord
Must be with our endless babble.

* * * *
Born of a quantum universe,
The mind is an ongoing nuclear genesis.
Conception is the big bang, death the big crunch.
And life is a mysterious dream for as long as biology allows.

* * * *
Watch your delusions.

* * * *
What does history teach us
But that we are very forgetful.

* * * *
You cannot fill the emptiness,
You can only witness it.

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From dust to dust,
With a splash of mud between.

* * * *
Rushing from one experience, one goal to another,
What time is there to savor the momentary awareness?

* * * *
Nothing really matters.

* * * *
Curious how it is so challenging for humanity
To discern and embrace the quantum layers of physics,
Chemistry and biology, together creating and evolving the dream
In which all forms across space-time equally contribute.

* * * *
If all this gibberish seem rather legalistic,
It is only a vain attempt to impart
A clear vision of reality.

* * * *
Breed on.

* * * *
If you really want the state of mind
Described by the words like serenity,
Happiness, joy, contentment and peace,
You will not rest until you find it.

* * * *
Did you choose to be you,
Or are you a spontaneous outcome
Of the holographic changing

* * * *
All that pride won’t do much for you six feet under.

* * * *
To even label it a universe
Is to quantify and limit
Its eternal reality.

* * * *
The light of the truly righteous shines as no other.

* * * *
The mind is a maze of its own imagination.
To step back and discern that from which all dreams spring
Is an eternal journey for which few are cast.

* * * *
Where is the fear? Where is the desire?
Where is the thought of this or that.
Examine it very closely, and you will discern
It does not exist except in the weavings of imagination.

* * * *
Just what is it we are always
So adamantly projecting and protecting?
To take anything personally is the ruse of imagination
To which all humankind repeatedly succumbs.

* * * *
To be reborn, you must die.

* * * *
With every particle of your beingness,
Become that which is godness.
Surrender every form of resistance
Until you are consumed by the only reality.

* * * *
You have only dreamed this universe real
The joke is on your Self, you forgetful fool.

* * * *
Eternity is birth, preservation, death.
All in the same instantaneous now.

* * * *
Personality is merely the reaction
To the individual blend of desire and fear
With which all minds must contend.

* * * *
We are all born ignorant of our ignorance.
For whatever reason, most seem
To live out their lives
Lolling around in its muck.

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All that restlessness of mind and body
Casts you into so many adventures.

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There would be no light without your reflection.

* * * *
Curious how all possibilities seem to be allowed.
Doesn’t seem to imply there is really much judgment going on
Except in the willy-nilly minds of the human unkind.

* * * *
If we collectively wanted it
To be anything other than it is,
It would be.

* * * *
Another enticing breeder
Tugs at ye old delusion.

* * * *
The mind is a creature of habit.

* * * *
You must enjoy your mix of desire and fear,
Else it would not hold such sway
Over your sojourn in time.

* * * *
Consciousness gives consciousness value,
Yet from whence it comes has nothing to say.

* * * *
Whether as clear as a cloudless dawn,
Or as murky as the muddiest water,
Consciousness is consciousness,
Differentiated only by thoughts
Born of its timeless content.

* * * *
Who now knows with any certainty
What contortions future generations will take
To abide the dreamtime we have all aided in shaping.

* * * *
Passion can be an intoxicating addiction.

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Observe the stillness before and after
“I Am” ripples forth in thought.

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Only an open, clear mind
Can solve any given problem.

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What time creates, it also destroys.

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No thought can ever more than point out
The subtlety of this mystery of existence.

* * * *
Most merely repeat what others repeat to them.

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It’s all about vanity, baby, it’s all about vanity.

* * * *
Curious how so many would trade
The wonder of Eden for a pile of gold.

* * * *
The harvest of judgment is hell.

* * * *
Though you may have been someplace
Ten thousand times or many more before,
This is the only time in this particular here-now.

* * * *
Any attempt to organize the spiritual nature
Into a religion, into the idolatry of form or concept,
Is blasphemy.

* * * *
Any given instant, a new universe spontaneously unfolds.

* * * *
Here we all are in or very near a fine mess,
Clinging to all our individual and collective dreams.
Very curious, indeed, how the world turns.

Each breath is a new opportunity to divine the mystery.

* * * *
Are you dreaming god,
Or is god dreaming you?
Or, perhaps, a bit of each.

* * * *
History is yet another form of idolatry.

* * * *
Why are you so attached to a pile of dust?

* * * *
What this now?

* * * *
Whatever it is you crave or fear
Is really of your own mind’s imaginary devising.
It is all just sensation of nuclear creation.

* * * *
So many mirages.

* * * *
Set down the many means to violence and war,
And ascertain the inner peace in what you truly are.
To battle outwardly is to miss the greatest opportunity
To merge inwardly into the absoluteness of totality.

* * * *
Can you change your mind?

* * * *
Die content.

* * * *
Scholarly efforts are vaporous absorptions.

* * * *
Your mind is your creation.
However it may have come to pass,
Ultimately, you must bear all responsibility for it.


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For more, go to the original work by Michael Holshouser

The Stillness Before Time
http://www.thestillnessbeforetime.com/

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There is really only one Way.
It is without division or boundary.
It is without name or theology.
Awareness is its scripture,
Here now its venue,
You its witness,
Your life the journey.

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