27 September 2009

Chapter 229 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)

CCXXIX

A missive from eternity.

* * * *
Return to the womb of eternal spacelessness.

* * * *
Don’t confuse psychedelic with spiritual.
Something that seems extraordinary
Is really no different than the most
Mundane, everyday experience.

* * * *
A rock
Is really as much you
As you are.

* * * *
Another mind locked
In a box of its own making.

* * * *
It’s all about patterns and one’s attachment to them.
Only through direct, detached attention
Can any change come about.
And even then,
It’s easier said than done.

* * * *
It might get better,
It might just sort of carry on,
But this brief moment in time may be
As good as it gets ever again.

* * * *
The clarity of Soul.

* * * *
A rolling stone gathers no moss.
One that sits is layered with dust.

* * * *
Cynicism hath no bounds.

* * * *
What dull, grinding lives the masses lead.

* * * *
Intolerance builds walls.
Acceptance dissolves them.

* * * *
The true seeker leaves no stone unturned.

* * * *
Wander nearby, wander afield.
The universe is your pearl,
Every hearth your home.

* * * *
To have friends, or enemies, you must be one.

* * * *
The high cost
Of experimentation
Is that it may well kill you.
At least as well as doing nothing.

* * * *
Even beyond the pale,
The mystery remains you.

* * * *
Mothballed again.

* * * *
The detective studies everything
Until there is only one conclusion.

* * * *
Cheers to the herd.
They will abide the savageries of time.

* * * *
We each witness whatever the moment offers.

* * * *
We’re all just hamburger waiting
For McDonald’s to come up with
Its own version of Soylent Green.

* * * *
The greatest show on Earth
Still has much ground to cover.

* * * *
Make death your best friend,
And there will be no fear
When it does arrive.

* * * *
Dusty beginnings, dusty ends.

* * * *
No remorse allowed.

* * * *
Curiosity is handy
To discover new worlds,
But it kills cats.

* * * *
Hunger and thirst
Are not life-threatening.
Oxygen deprivation will kill you.

* * * *
Born to witness.

* * * *
Maestros all.

* * * *
Drift nonchalant
And you will see all
For the one it is.

* * * *
What better way to spend a day.

* * * *
From chaos
To pretended order
To chaos again.

* * * *
Patterns have a way of melting away
Into the primal, seedless nature
From which they formed.

* * * *
It’s a god thing.

* * * *
Justice for all,
For the revenge it is.

* * * *
Godness gave us hallucinogens
To help us discern its presence.

* * * *
Time is much like smoke,
It seems so real, but quickly wafts
Into the selective formlessness of memory.

* * * *
What is history but selective, vague memories.

* * * *
Given an infinite set of possibilities,
What is it exactly that we are creating?

* * * *
How quickly the fear in one’s own eye
Can be the cause of an ocean of sorrow.

* * * *
Attachment to the senses, to their birth or death,
Is the source of all this imagined separation.

* * * *
A vast game of making up everything physics will allow.

* * * *
So much time it took to knead this moment in consciousness.
How quickly adept we are at destroying the diversity
Caught in the headlights of our making.

* * * *
When you were an infant, a product of seed union,
The senses were totally functioning without interference,
Without the burden of thought, without the sense of persona.
What will it take to return to that sense of innocence.

* * * *
Fall into the silence without bubbling back up.

* * * *
A top-heavy roof collapses upon its foundation.

* * * *
Across the vastness
Beyond what any eye will ever see,
You are.

* * * *
Life may be less valued
If you manage not to be overly attached
To the play of consciousness.

* * * *
When you see what education has deprived you,
You do what you need to do to get it back.

* * * *
Who fools who calling human beings civilized.
Living in cities has not necessarily
Made us less barbaric.

* * * *
The universe is like a blossoming flower.
You are the flowering and the flowering is you.

* * * *
The eternal silence
Is your most constant
Acquaintance, friend, lover.

* * * *
The hurts others hurl in words
Have no real power
But what you give them.
Your reactions are their might.

* * * *
It is the play of light that creates the vast diversity.
Find that from which all light pours forth
Within you own eye.

* * * *
Try not to expect others to value what you do.

* * * *
The slate is slateness whether full or empty.

* * * *
To think you are,
To think you are not,
No real difference.
The awareness
Is still there
No matter
What you do

* * * *
To blame suffering
On one thought or another
Misses the real creator of the problem,
The identification of the awareness of consciousness
With the thought itself.

* * * *
There comes a day
When even all you tokens of wisdom
Are given to the fire.

* * * *
The mind’s incessant craving for purpose,
For pleasure, for any moment of hedonistic desire,
Can be the source of an infinity of unresolvable problems.

* * * *
You are that from which all concept is born.

* * * *
There you go again
Trying so hard to become
That which you have ever been.

* * * *
Everything you declare,
Spiritual or so-called non-spiritual,
Is continued sustenance of the ego-center
And its dance with all the vanities.

* * * *
Let the ignorant ridicule you.
It is only their loss
To have only seen the fool.

* * * *
What better place to hide than smack-dab
In the mythological center itself.

* * * *
Preach to the choir,
And they’ll either toss you out,
Kill you, or, worse yet, just ignore you.

* * * *
Too scary for words.

* * * *
Nothing you need to witness this day.

* * * *
What is/are the god(s) of your time?

* * * *
All pedestals crumble, eventually.

* * * *
All manifestation operates
In cycles of creation and destruction
At every level imaginable.

* * * *
Does time unfold through you
Or you through it?

* * * *
Our inclination to fashion time,
And with it the muddle of dualistic notion,
Has left us bereft of the virtue of our garden origin.

* * * *
Once you have discerned the biggest picture,
The many parts commingle as they will
More and more effortlessly, still.

* * * *
If you believe some conceptual god
Cares whether or not humanity survives,
It might do you well to examine more closely
Your relationship to the relationship.

* * * *
Passion fogs clear thinking.

* * * *
As you peruse this brief aphorism, imagine all the relationships
Consciousness is playing out across this garden sphere.
Then ponder all the dreams that have already been,
And how many more there are yet to come.
And know it is but a momentary sliver
Of the dreaming of eternity’s infinite nature.

* * * *
A circus is a circus no matter
The tent’s shape, size or color.

* * * *
Be as carefree as your courage will allow.

* * * *
Consciousness as manifested by the human species
Is a cancerous struggle with the garden of its origin.

* * * *
Who can ever master that which
Has neither beginning nor end?

* * * *
Real freedom is priceless.
Freedom from fear, freedom from want,
Freedom from the myriad engagements born of time.
It is the divinity of complete, utter aloneness,
Oneness with all, pure and simple.

* * * *
All is clay despite comparison.

* * * *
How dreadfully wearing it can be to daily witness
The seemingly endless suffering both within and without.
So much of it is so unnecessary, so pointless,
Yet this is the reality of consciousness
And its ceaseless desire for more.
It is the burden of time and separation.
How arduous it is to discern beyond the veil,
To perceive clearly, with absolute, fearless surety,
That all existence is really nothing more
Than a relatively brief dream.

* * * *
As dictated by the sun.

* * * *
Abide or die.

* * * *
The quest for quality is the greatest pursuit.

* * * *
It is challenging to be centered in Self
When the physical body is in great pain.
When the sourness of the sensory creation
Weaves itself into so many thoughts.
Only the greatest detachment
Can reassert the point of reckoning
Which you truly are, and have ever been.

* * * *
How grueling the separation from the mother’s womb.
And so few ever discerning they never left the home.

* * * *
Your universe is your own creation,
Your own truth, your own light, your own way,
And eventually, your own destruction.

* * * *
There is really no viable solution
To the dilemma fabricated by humanity.
Unless enough of us discern that it is the colluded
Sense of identification that is the source of all divisiveness,
The garden, in order to survive, will be forced to end,
Or at least severely diminish, our presence.

* * * *
Life is a privilege, not a right.

* * * *
Civilized implies civility,
And how many of us truly are?
Our actions belie so many of our words.

* * * *
How easily your emotions, thoughts and actions
Are manipulated in so many subtle and not so subtle ways.
Are you any more than a puppet talking the talk and walking the walk
Dictated by the many puppeteers surrounding you?

* * * *
That we operate believing war brings peace
Is Orwellian doublespeak over and over again.

* * * *
How is it a very great number of atoms
Have come together to create this vast universe?
Impossible question, impossible answer,
But here we are, nonetheless.

* * * *
Given the inanity of possible outcomes,
You were inevitable.


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