CCXXXI
If duality is real, where’s the seam?
* * * *
Each of us finds so many reasons and ways to suffer.
* * * *
Pity the future we have all aided in creating.
* * * *
Another inane catechism assaulting the mind.
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A non sequitur work if ever there was one.
And because so few will ever read more than a few lines,
It really doesn’t have to be a coherent manifesto.
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It’s the nature of the beast.
* * * *
Suffer in bliss.
* * * *
Pretty easy to be one with the sun,
Until it burns you.
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Accidents force changes.
Little ones, small changes.
Big ones, great changes.
Birth was an accident.
As will be death.
* * * *
Delusion is a product of fear.
The greater the fear, the greater the anxiety,
The more twisted the delusion.
* * * *
Love what you truly are,
And you will love it all.
* * * *
Any given system
Is only as functional
As its users are inclined.
* * * *
You do what you do
To the level that grants satisfaction.
Yet from quality to inferiority,
All is complete.
* * * *
Conclusions simmer into rigidity,
And water that does not course freely
Stagnates into poverty and waste.
* * * *
So miniscule, so infinite
As to become meaningless.
* * * *
No one else is responsible
For your happiness or sorrow.
It is up to you to ponder thoroughly.
Anything less is merely smoke and mirrors.
* * * *
The Other Side . . . the other side of what?
The other side of that wall in your mind.
* * * *
On the whole,
How much more hellish
Could this calamity possibly be?
* * * *
To usurp
All that is good
For maligned reason
Is the way of the believer.
* * * *
Who is not harbor for one delusion or another?
* * * *
It is really much less about differences
Than it is similarities.
* * * *
To live in conclusions is to be
Voluntarily walled off from reality.
* * * *
Surrender to utter vulnerability,
Completely open to the momentariness
Of the infinite stillness of eternity.
* * * *
The mind that is destined for wisdom and beyond
Is open to the study of anything and everything.
* * * *
What is it any recognize
But concept after concept fed to them
By the environmental context in which they abide?
Are any anything but disjointed perceptions
The movement of mind has encased
And habitually projects.
* * * *
It is not about opinions and assertions.
It is about nowness unfolding
In its ungraspable way.
* * * *
All you own are figments of your imagination.
A dream to which you must eventually die.
Do it ahead of time if you are so-fated,
Or claw furiously as you are drug
Into its inevitable conclusion.
* * * *
Every step you make,
Every direction you take,
Creates your future.
* * * *
So it goes.
* * * *
Memory can never be more
Than a keeper of concepts.
* * * *
Born again.
Unborn again.
Different concepts;
Same quality of mind.
* * * *
Once you understand
The nature of concept,
You see that is all it is.
* * * *
Completeness is an every moment matter.
* * * *
Each must alone gauge
His impact on the dream’s future.
No other can ever dictate another’s dream.
* * * *
Eat, drink and breathe; consume the universe,
And then piss, shit, spit and sweat back into it.
* * * *
Chew well, Great Destroyer of Worlds, chew well.
* * * *
There are prophets, sages and mystics,
But there will never be a messiah.
Nothing to save, dear boy,
Nothing to save.
* * * *
All this suffering for nothing.
Imagine that, if you will.
* * * *
Feel the poison of desire and fear.
* * * *
The Force, Luke, The Force.
* * * *
Just throwing it out there.
No idea what might happen.
Anything would be a astonishing.
* * * *
Probably far too late for remedies, anywho.
Daft to even ponder a paradigm shift possible.
A foolhardy product of idealist notion gone amok.
* * * *
Any given vocation can be pretty odd
To the many who lack clear vision.
* * * *
Boxes are handy if you’re into boxable things.
* * * *
Practice, practice, practice.
But who’s the who who’s practicing?
* * * *
The sense of freedom is something of a relative condition.
One person’s view might well be another’s chamber of horror.
Dissatisfaction and discernment are what will determine
That which breaks beyond the boundaries of time.
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How can you forget what you didn’t know in the first place?
* * * *
That which many
Are only able to discern
Upon one mountaintop or another
Permeates every particle along the journey.
* * * *
Buddhahood is when you become the space,
No longer concerned with material forms.
* * * *
Are the dreams of kings
Really that much different
Than those of a beggar?
* * * *
Imagination concocts an existence
That can never be proven
Without the a priori of memory.
* * * *
Within every pleasure is the seed of pain.
No coin has one side without the other.
Only in the contentment of beingness
Does the play of duality regroup
Into the serenity of oneness.
* * * *
The idealist suffers so for wishful thinking.
Love, care and hope are four-letter words.
* * * *
Minorities must often succumb,
At least outwardly,
To the delusions of the majority.
* * * *
The brewings of consciousness are a chemistry
Whose origin and fate are rarely deeply discerned.
* * * *
Release into the effortless reality of now’s unfolding.
* * * *
Goals come and go,
But the process is always
Here and now.
* * * *
Dwell where birth nor death,
Nor the pride between
Can ever enter.
* * * *
How awash we are in such a menagerie of meaninglessness.
* * * *
God must be very, very weary of human vanity.
* * * *
Detachment lends itself well to a full breath.
* * * *
What are you not?
Imagination is the vehicle of all creation.
Death is its destruction.
* * * *
Until the next seed bears fruit.
* * * *
There is nothing worse than a moral hypocrite.
Their judgments only magnify the vanity
Of their delusional existence.
* * * *
The world as created by consciousness
Offers a delicacy for craving.
How long
Before you are hungry no more?
* * * *
The patterning is birthed of that
Which is prior to all patterns
And the illusory divisions
They inevitably create.
* * * *
A silly, futile hobby no doubt destined
For one anonymous landfill or another.
* * * *
Such is life in the slow lane.
* * * *
Your fate awaits your arrival.
* * * *
Pity the body that
Must somehow contain the soul
Which so badly yearns to explode into infinity.
* * * *
Your brother’s best interest may be yours as well.
* * * *
The problem tomorrow
Is likely one set in motion
One today or another.
* * * *
No prison can hold a free soul.
* * * *
How easily the insight gleaned today
Will be forgotten tomorrow.
* * * *
“Better you than me,
Better yours than mine.
Me, me, me, it’s all about me.”
The common subconscious chant
Of just about every human every born.
* * * *
What merry adventures is now unfolding now?
* * * *
Live as if there were no tomorrow,
For truly there is not and never was.
Yet try to do so without bringing about
Too much havoc when it does arrive.
* * * *
It’s coming.
With statistical certainty,
It’s coming.
* * * *
Religion,
The higher form of vanity.
* * * *
How can anyone make sense of something
That is utterly, pathetically nonsensical.
* * * *
You may destroy a man’s will,
But in destroying him, what have you gained?
Only the furthered torment of your own.
Who conceives hell but you?
* * * *
On that which you can depend,
I am, I am until the journey’s end.
* * * *
You are the eternal dust
Lusting of itself again and again.
* * * *
Christ consciousness did not die on the cross,
And Buddha is not locked inside a statue.
* * * *
Wouldn’t it be so very pleasant, so very peaceful
If we could all get along for just a little while?
If we could just put aside all our bullshit
For just a couple teensy-weensy
Portions of a second?
* * * *
When the last role
Is yours, and yours alone,
Is when the long journey is done,
And your remaining time is ever home.
* * * *
For all the mystics, seers, prophets and saints yet to come.
* * * *
Do not be swayed, do not covet
The flauntings of power, fame and fortune.
They have no say over those who were born to see.
* * * *
It’s pretty hard not to get tuckered out once and awhile.
Some days are smoother and more pleasant than others, of course,
But (harrumph) only from . . . a detached view . . . that is . . .
What I mean to say is . . . life is . . . damned difficult,
For every living creature across the board,
If you know what I mean . . .
* * * *
Is what humanity doing to this garden planet
Any different than any given cancer to its host?
* * * *
It’s looking pretty darned bleak, folks.
And I’m betting all in against us making it.
I’m betting we have not got the necessary wit
To paradigm shift our conscious behavior together
Enough to bring about a cooperative dance.
That we have not got what is critical
To modify the collective will
Into a manifest theater of harmony
Founded on wisdom rather than self interest.
* * * *
An unlikely revolution,
If ever there was one.
* * * *
As if you could every forget
That it’s all about you.
* * * *
Irony rules, dude.
* * * *
Debates about whether or not there is a god
Are about as absurdly insignificant as it gets.
Of course there is . . . of course there is not.
* * * *
Mad men gather no moss,
And don’t get grass stains, neither.
* * * *
Another gift from left field.
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The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)
© Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World Rights Reserved