27 September 2009

Chapter 233 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)

CCXXXIII

The drop is in the ocean,
And the ocean, in the drop.
All division is imagined.

* * * *
You are in reality merely the in and out of a momentary breath
Now you are this breath . . . and now you are this breath . . .
Now you are this breath . . . now you are this breath . . .
And when the last one someday slowly wheezes out,
You will again dissolve into the great formlessness
You have ever been, ever are, and ever will be.

* * * *
And all the while
The source containing all
Remains steadfast and absolute,
Untouched, unconcerned about any or all.

* * * *
Swallow your pride
For it hath no reality
In the ultimate nature.

* * * *
Old soul, young soul
All the same Soul
Just the same.

* * * *
These outrageous thoughts
Are for those who have
Outrageous potential.

* * * *
Given a childhood, a child will putter and play,
Oblivious to the thoughts surrounding him.
Childhood’s end is when she becomes
Concerned about what others think.
Few ever find again the wonder
Of a small mound of sand.

* * * *
Belief is more often than not a synonym for delusion.

* * * *
Jester redux.

* * * *
There is always balance in the play of forms.
But balance changes in every moment,
And the changing may or may not
Be favorable to the survival
Of any given life form.

* * * *
Peace begins with peace.
At some point the revenge must cease
If there is to be an end to any given cycle of violence.

* * * *
How will you ever attain heaven
If you cannot discern it now?

* * * *
Wings singe when they touch the sun.
Fly close enough to discern what is real,
But not so near as to fall back to earth
Twisted by the fog of clouded vision.

* * * *
The salve for the pain of existence
Is to surrender to that which all truly is,
To disappear into the harmony of absoluteness,
Unutterably complete, irrevocably pure, undeniably real.

* * * *
Where is the individual drop
In the vastness of an ocean?

* * * *
Imagine yourself whatever you will,
At the end of any given day,
It was only a notion.

* * * *
Imagination brews every possible distraction,
A vast hydra whose willful nature can only be stilled
By a mind able to discern beyond the veil of its own making.

* * * *
Imagine that you are already dead, long forgotten,
And bask in the still aloneness of your true nature.

* * * *
No matter which moment you choose,
They all boil down to the same now.

* * * *
Is it true, or merely wishful thinking?

* * * *
Overriding doubt is a prerequisite.

* * * *
When you are ready to be free,
You will find me in one form or another.

* * * *
Life n. a lucid dream.

* * * *
Waiting for nothing.

* * * *
It is very challenging to be mindful every moment.
Consciousness has an unfailing tendency
To seek out the highest vanity.

* * * *
We’re all working our way towards the grave
In every conceivable manner possible.

* * * *
To settle for less than truth is to miss out
On the fullest potential existence offers.

* * * *
How randomly, arbitrarily, serendipitous any given fate.

* * * *
The free mind is an empire,
A fiefdom of consciousness
Witnessed by original nature.

* * * *
Everything falls into statistical relativity,
The universal theorem
Which science so vainly seeks.

* * * *
How predatory the eyes of a beautiful woman can be.

* * * *
When you do finally wake up,
You will wonder that it took so long.

* * * *
It is all the silence of now
Crowded with the seemingly
Endless chatter of imagination.

* * * *
The only point to all these thoughts,
The aspiration that you may or may not share,
Is to point out with absolute certainty
That you are the whole,
Not a part.
That you are truly That
Which is called by countless names,
Yet is prior to all light and sound in the eyes and ears
Of those who discern the eternal nature
In each and every moment.

* * * *
How much greater a revelation do you need
To ignite the timeless doubt required
To die to all the false limitations
Concocted by a world lost in delusion.

* * * *
What is there to save
When nothing can be lost.

* * * *
Each of us has a genetic lineage of fathers and mothers
Who have contributed to the weaving of this vast passing moment.
Their existence was really not all that dissimilar to your own.
Consciousness, with all its imagined variations,
Has never really been any different.

* * * *
What is the universe but a sandbox made of stardust.

* * * *
Knowledge is the bittersweet fruit of the garden,
Poisonous to many until they through doubt discern
The only antidote is beyond the conceptual veil.

* * * *
Truth is so absurdly simple, as basic as a breath.
Sidestep the countless semantic smokescreens
That distract and delude so many in every way.

* * * *
God may have created this vain drama,
But who or what created this omniscient being?
It all had to start somewhere, somehow,
But can any claim really be more
Than idle speculation?

* * * *
It’s strange, so strange, so very, very strange.

* * * *
By definition,
What is unknown
Can never be known.

* * * *
So breathe, kiddo, breathe.
That is really all any of us ever has.

* * * *
It’s all or nothing.

* * * *
The latest delusion.

* * * *
Aging is about learning to let go,
To discern how little you really know,
To realize you are separate from nothing.

* * * *
What an incredible thing this mystery truly is.
But what is truly even more incredible
Is how thoughtless we are
With the gift of it.

* * * *
More infinite than the farthest star.
As near as the most innermost you.
The temple of totality is naught else
But this now here forever now.

* * * *
Mindsets arguing mindlessly.

* * * *
You have taken everything personally,
Else why would you still be imagining you?

* * * *
Suicide is merely imagination weary of its own game.

* * * *
If you are mad, it is the world that has made it so.

* * * *
Pretty good for a bunch of neo-monkeys.

* * * *
Imagination is full of limitation.

* * * *
The universe does not owe any of us a fair shake.

* * * *
You might be one of the forms
I’d like to be if I weren’t me.

* * * *
Driven, so driven.
What the heck for?
And where the heck to?
Here now, kiddo, it’s all here now.

* * * *
Let those who insist stir in their own juices.

* * * *
All the world’s a stage,
And each and every one
Is at the center of theirs.

* * * *
What is there to justify?
If you did it, you did it.
Don’t devise excuses.
Just admit, and move on.

* * * *
You think you exist,
But can that which was never born ever cease?

* * * *
The youthful delusion of immortal entitlement
Is inevitably eroded by the harshness of time.

* * * *
Before you judge another, ask yourself, honestly,
“Have I not done or thought that before?”

* * * *
All I know is that I am,
But what that is,
I’m most certainly not sure.

* * * *
All identities are fabricated reflections of the other.

* * * *
The only true prize is within.

* * * *
So this is what a civilized world looks like.

* * * *
The emptiness is very tall,
Very wide, very deep.

* * * *
What is a mind free of worry?
Bliss.

* * * *
Another good day to die.
Live it well.

* * * *
Is god dead? Or just irretrievably jaded?
Can you imagine having to witness all the absurdity
Humanity ceaselessly comes up with over and over again?
If he does exist, he most likely wishes he was dead,
But, alas, is trapped by his own immortality.

* * * *
Consciousness is a drunk from which few recover.

* * * *
Pride’s snowballing synergy in the human theater
Is like lemmings rushing toward the edge
Of their own deluded free will.

* * * *
Whether you like your part or not,
Somebody has to star as you,
And even if it wasn’t you,
It would still by you.

* * * *
Expect nothing to continue.

* * * *
The entire universe
Is created and destroyed
In the blink of an eye.

* * * *
No worries, mate.

* * * *
What would you do
If there was no one else?
If you would never see or talk
To another human being ever again?

* * * *
Christhood is not a matter of mystical powers.
Making wine, healing the sick and raising the dead
Are merely distractions for those who only have capacity
For soap operas, carnivals and other self-indulgent spectacles.

* * * *
Martyrdom has proven to be an effective way
To get interest focused on any message,
But so many have failed to realize
What Jesus was likely saying.
The documentation is very poor,
And would probably have little chance
Of getting attention in this world’s marketplace.

* * * *
And why did he choose a group of fishermen?
Perhaps because they were the only ones
Who had the space from which to listen.

* * * *
Despite what many neo-Christians seem to believe,
It is highly unlikely Jesus’ weapon of choice
Would be either an M-16 or an AK-47.
He would no doubt choose
A Barret .50 Caliber.

* * * *
In an eye-for-an-eye world,
Everyone goes a little blind.

* * * *
It is a curiously absurd and paradoxical irony
That all this knowledge you have absorbed
Becomes ineffectual, and only impedes
Your quest for the ultimate freedom.

* * * *
You think that you’re burdened in life?
Geez lueez, you have no idea
How many cups of coffee
Have gone into this boil and bubble.
Where did the Tin Man get that oil, anyway?

* * * *
What deity, what belief system might you create
If the theater of time had never presented one?

* * * *
No one can truly rival the companionship of a seer.
But not to worry, the madness is catching to few,
And only in the most tentative, fleeting of ways.

* * * *
Any given mindset will mesmerize all born into its fold.
Few can step back far enough to see the relativity of all.

* * * *
There is no black and white
In the manifest mirage of dreamtime.
Only the immeasurable, panoramic rainbow
Of every achievable shade of gray.

* * * *
Wade into any given pain.
Shine the inner light of attention upon it.
See its true nature clearly, without distraction or desire.
Become your own physician.
Heal thy Self.

* * * *
Death is at both the beginning and end
Of the journey of mortal existence.
And, paradoxically, so is birth.

* * * *
You are truly the sovereign of your universe.
Play the game the world about you requires,
But be inwardly free from beginning to end.


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