27 September 2009

Chapter 227 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)

CCXXVII

The greatest potential of consciousness
Resides in the awareness of its source.

* * * *
The tranquility of eternal stillness
Is that of a charging tiger or a just-suckled infant.
All potentials timelessly flowing in the vast ocean of manifestation.

* * * *
Attempting to take back that which was surrendered
Only seems to exacerbate a spate of hellish outcomes.
Attachment is a byway to perdition in this dreamy voyage.

* * * *
What so many consider teaching
Is merely one who has been schooled
Instructing another to perform the same tricks.
Merely handing another a basket of fish,
Or coaching them on how to fish,
Will make a great difference
In any given journey.

* * * *
Deny the lie fodder for its vain feast.
Give your life over to that which is real.

* * * *
And where exactly is this “Me, Myself and I”
To which the you that is really you
With such great tenacity
So vainly clings?

* * * *
The subtlety of the essential nature
Fools all but the most discerning.

* * * *
Those caught up in the web of wealth, fame and power
Fan the adulation of those who envy and fear them most.

* * * *
Why settle for less than you deserve?

* * * *
Ignorance fosters despair, havoc, and loss.
The freedom of recollection is cause for celebration.
Weep not for the dead, but for those who reside
In the hell of a mind lost in Self-deception.

* * * *
Believing in any mythological fabrication
Is as real and meaningful as a child’s
In Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.

* * * *
Attachment to any mythology
Is an extremely acute constraint
On the quest for the ultimate reality.

* * * *
The ultimate iconoclast . . . I Am.

* * * *
Nothing more tedious than a true believer.

* * * *
Nature and nurture, seed and setting
Are a unitary journey in the dreaming of time.
One cannot be without the other, and their intertwining
Ripples into countless futures well past their own.

* * * *
The infinite stillness of totality
Neither loves nor hates,
Grasps nor releases,
Gains nor loses, exists nor dies.
It is but a canvas upon which all forms rise and fall,
Upon which quanta and galaxies dance in whatever way they will,
Upon which all evolving creation is witnessed for all eternity.

* * * *
Surrounded by so much hogwash,
You will endure . . . somehow.

* * * *
Doubt is the key to freedom.

* * * *
Sometimes, what is said would be better left unsaid.
Other times, what is unsaid should be said
Over and over until it is heard.

* * * *
From the blank canvas,
From the uncarved block
All things are created, all things evolve.
Creation is evolution and evolution is creation.
The genesis of the nowness is eternally intertwined

* * * *
How long must we be drained by beliefs
That miss the point or have lost their way?
Move on and discern what is real for your Self.

* * * *
At least children have an excuse for all their pretending.

* * * *
The senses create the veil,
And desire the prison.

* * * *
So many vain thoughts buzzing to and fro,
Yet what is it they fly to and fro within?
The answer to the only question,
The question without answer
Is one flies have no need to ask.

* * * *
The body is but a container of godness.
You are the oneness of all eternity,
Not a persona bound in time.

* * * *
You are blessed if you truly comprehend
This kaleidoscoping dreaming is but a hiccup,
In the seamlessness of eternity’s essential nature.

* * * *
Until power, fame, wealth, or any other desire imaginable
Are less important than knowing you are That I Am,
You will not know the sweet liqueur of grace.

* * * *
You can only know who a buddha or christ truly were
When you yourself are seated in the lotus of totality.

* * * *
If you understand time,
You discern what it means
To feel your fleshless bones
Slowly crumbling into dust.

* * * *
All your fears come from falsely identifying
With the suffering of an ever-changing form.

* * * *
By being born,
You are mortally compelled
By a vast array of choiceless choices.

* * * *
Save time?
How?

* * * *
Even if you could travel in time,
It would be jus as imaginary
As any other moment.

* * * *
It is the only way.

* * * *
Imitators always miss out on being themselves.

* * * *
How obvious the uselessness of tossing pearls before swine.
True gold cannot be seen by those who lack the astuteness required.
Those content with the false gold can read words such as these,
And never even vaguely comprehend what is being said.

* * * *
Throughout human history in every geography,
Seers of truth have often been persecuted
For the mistaken, idealistic assumption
That others will be at all interested
In seeing it as clearly as they.

* * * *
Seek truth or whatever delusion pleases you.
It doesn’t really matter what you do or think,
For it is all the impartial dream of godness.

* * * *
Organized religions
And other cults
Are often so off the mark
That it’s not even worth arguing about.

* * * *
All sense of security is illusion.
All things are inevitable ground up
And recycled again and again
For as long as eternity
Plays in manifest dreamtime.

* * * *
Far too idealistic for this doubtful eye,
But minds wander where they will.

* * * *
See your Self in everything, everywhere.

* * * *
This too,
This too,
This too,
This too,
This too…
Ad infinitum
Shall pass.

* * * *
Tap into the eternal as a root does the soil.
It is your true sustenance in this mad dream.

* * * *
Like a dog gone mad
From chasing a thrown ball
Far too many times.

* * * *
Truth is a word
Repeated by many,
But understood by few.

* * * *
No importance is set upon consciousness.
It is dross to the flame; a mere shadow of reality.
The unknowable truth need not know of itself.
The essential is prior to consciousness.
You are but a momentary figment.

* * * *
How arrogant of humanity
To name that which is its source,
Much less consider any word bona fide
In any way, shape, or form.

* * * *
The you that you truly are can never be duplicated.
The oneness can never be two or more.
All duality is a play of illusion,
And the delusion it so easily fosters.

* * * *
If you must cultivate faith or nurture hope,
Let it be that you will one day die
For the last time.

* * * *
Your fear comes from continuing
To forget none of this really exists.
That it is only temporary faire,
And that it can never sate
The hunger you have
To return home.

* * * *
You want so badly to love some form or another,
Yet are denied complete union by the laws of space and time.
Merge within and you will fathom the love all are.

* * * *
To believe yourself too superior to mix it up with the masses
Is a serious wake-up call about the karma awaiting your arrival.

* * * *
All things will rise,
And all will fall.

* * * *
What is real, anyway?

* * * *
You want immortality?
Then kill yourself.

* * * *
Knowing this changes everything.

* * * *
See how the universe is imprinted in the skull,
Most often veiled by the fog of consciousness.

* * * *
For the sake of manifest survival,
You must participate, and perhaps even thrive,
In one way or another.

* * * *
Is not an infinite universal intelligence
Both obvious and unprovable
At the same time?

* * * *
The depths and heights
To which humanity will both sink and rise
Are seemingly incalculable.

* * * *
What is the state of mind that does not remember?

* * * *
It is the nature of history
For all things to be forgotten.

* * * *
Could even tyrannosaurus rex match
Humanity’s capacity for fearsome savagery?

* * * *
Why should you fear anything?
Nothing can truly kill you.

* * * *
Help children retain their innocence,
Their child minds, for as long as possible.
With that underpinning, there is the potential
For happiness, wisdom, and perhaps even love.

* * * *
Attachment to life is so biologically embedded
That it is difficult to discern the source one’s being,
And once seen, remembering to recollect it is not easy either.
So you continue stumbling and falling off the tightrope;
Keep being sliced by the blade of discernment.
It a challenge requiring great discipline
To absolutely surrender to that
Which you truly are.

* * * *
Imagine how many times
The oceans have evaporated
To erode the highest mountains,
To wash them to its greatest depths.
Why would it, how could it be any different
For each and every particle across time
In the awakening and return to Self.

* * * *
As in any given dance,
The better teachers match step for step
The many assorted capacities, limitations and interests
Of whatever students enter their realm.

* * * *
How many ways the Way
Can be painted, sculpted, and described,
Yet no matter how many attributes may cloak its essence,
It eternally remains the same indivisible one,
Indifferent to all plays of time.

* * * *
The world is burdensome
Until you discern that spaciousness
Where no burden can exist.

* * * *
You a still voice
From the infinite inner space,
Truly, the final frontier.

* * * *
When you reside in the rigid ego born of illusion,
You are like a stone slowly wearing down in the current.
But when you let go the dream that is unreal,
You rediscover the state of wonder,
The awareness from which all springs.

* * * *
It is less about a personal god
Than it is a personal quest
To discern the godness within.

* * * *
The game of organized religion is an absurd farce
Only eyes given over to godness can discern.

* * * *
Even one follower
Can bind the unwary teacher,
But genuine students are never a burden.

* * * *
The tiniest beginning can beget a tsunami of epic proportion.

* * * *
You speak of surrender
Yet do not truly begin to comprehend
The sacrifice required.

* * * *
You play cat and mouse with your Self,
A game of tag with eternity its field.

* * * *
If we cannot tame our many passions,
The conscious potential of this manifest dream,
Will be a barren birthing, like a blossom unable to flower.

* * * *
You are but one infinitesimal particle of eternity’s witnessing.

* * * *
Martyrdom is just another form of vanity.

* * * *
Nothing matters but what imagination dictates.

* * * *
Different frames of reference,
Different capacities and limitations,
Differences of every sort,
Are that by which
All life forms live and die.

* * * *
Given a choice between a lie and a truth,
It is a curious, rather staggering fact
That many seem to prefer the lie.

* * * *
In the maze
Of any given life,
Some doors open,
Some doors are locked.
Some open now, some later.
Some that once opened no longer do.
And most doors have never opened, and never will.
Though many may well merit a better shake,
The truth of it is that life is not fair,
And not all fates are just.


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The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)
© Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World Rights Reserved