CCXL
The limits of consciousness are the limits we define.
* * * *
Imagination takes itself so seriously.
* * * *
Absurd is the word.
* * * *
Another case of smotherly love.
* * * *
Death is merely a sleep
From which you in this container
Shall never again awaken.
* * * *
In complete surrender,
Could one be more free,
And still be conscious?
* * * *
You kill time until it kills you.
* * * *
Personal prejudice weaves its way into every thought.
* * * *
In the day to day of existence,
You must often pretend to care,
But in ultimate reality, you cannot.
* * * *
There are many plays and many endings.
In this play, there is only one.
* * * *
Your entire existence is wiped out
With a pause in consciousness.
* * * *
This is the book I wish I’d had
When it began so many years ago.
* * * *
Does it not all make sense?
* * * *
All complexities are imagined.
Reality is as simple as it gets.
* * * *
How many times have you been so lucky?
How many times has it all worked out?
* * * *
Pride is a harsh master.
* * * *
It is the game we play
Over and over again.
* * * *
What do you want from this mirage?
Your life’s story is the telling.
* * * *
You cannot discern the eternal nature
If the storms of thought blowing about the mind
Are of more interest than the stillness.
* * * *
We are but a snag of consciousness.
* * * *
The greatest story ever told
Is really about you
In the most eternal sense.
* * * *
May as well relax.
It’s all going to happen
With or without your consent.
* * * *
Air is just another form of earth, water and fire,
And the space from whence they are formed.
* * * *
The true unbeliever is agnostic.
* * * *
When it’s kill or be killed,
What choice will you make.
* * * *
Attachment to the passage of time
Accentuates the suffering of consciousness.
* * * *
Play it again.
* * * *
A crashing wave
Is consumed by the shore,
And must withdraw to regain its potency.
* * * *
A fixed point is hard to attack,
And hard to defend, as well.
* * * *
How bound so many are to one geography or another.
Strange that we do not see the entire world,
The entire universe, as our home.
* * * *
And you were fashioned into one
Of the infinite likenesses of godness.
* * * *
To which graven image are you most bound?
* * * *
Regardless whether it is positive or negative,
The level of passion set the tone of the day.
* * * *
What part of now don’t you understand?
* * * *
Too austere for minds relying on sensory devices.
* * * *
The continued survival of our species is only of concern to us.
The mystery doesn’t give a diddly-squat what comes and goes.
* * * *
Your dream is whatever you think it is.
Nothing more, nothing less.
* * * *
It is to a dream you are speaking.
* * * *
Forget every day.
Remember every day.
* * * *
It is only vanity that deprives you
Of a direct relationship with godness.
* * * *
Humanity races madly toward an extinction
Born of its own synergistic choices.
* * * *
We are all cycles within cycles, patterns within patterns.
Why have we lost sight of this fundamental, undeniable fact?
* * * *
Godness has walked upon the earth many times in many places
Witnessing the evolving creation in countless guises.
If you have the insight and courage,
You will be one of them.
* * * *
Treat yourself at least as well
As you would a friend or lover.
* * * *
There are an infinity of experiences
Which point to the true home within all.
No life is lived without opportunity to awaken.
* * * *
You do not need another to define the indefinable you.
* * * *
If you spend you life
Preoccupied with the many others,
You will never access your given original birthright.
* * * *
What solution can there ever be
If the problem is first not fully grasped.
* * * *
No matter the form allotted in time,
It is all you.
* * * *
Once you are lost to divine madness,
You cannot die again.
* * * *
You cannot become a sage
But through the minds of he other.
* * * *
Your fear of the other costs you eternal life.
* * * *
When you are soully the senses functioning,
The other vanishes.
* * * *
Those who judge harshly
Need a harsh god.
* * * *
Die again today.
* * * *
Who am I?
Maybe you can tell me.
* * * *
The other is a mold with dubious claim.
* * * *
And then there are those out of time moments
Which memory cannot explain or contain.
* * * *
How meaningless to judge another
When it is you who has created them.
* * * *
Passion tends to create divisions that time
Sooner or later fashions into great divides.
* * * *
Try to remember this time.
* * * *
Why is it so difficult for the many to comprehend
They are of the divinity their presence implies.
* * * *
Every form has a unique capacity and inclination.
It is vanity that fashions caste systems
That arbitrarily bind all.
* * * *
You desire the creation,
And fear it, as well.
* * * *
The demons are among your greatest teachers.
* * * *
Time being what it is,
The eighth day has yet to begin.
* * * *
All you will ever be is already all you are.
* * * *
What will become of the human species
When civilization falls of its own conscious weight.
* * * *
The stream of consciousness
Is all the same ceaseless chatter
Echoing in the stillness prior to Om.
* * * *
There really is no mastery once you discern
All there is begins anew in each and every now.
The beginner’s mind is really the only mind.
* * * *
‘Tis a mystery, nothing more, nothing less.
* * * *
Put all duality behind you.
Wander the only ground there is,
Peacefully solitary and free.
* * * *
You shield yourself in concepts,
And the pain of separation
Is like an open wound
You are too numb to feel.
* * * *
Discern what you are not,
And you will discover
What you truly are.
* * * *
If the other could truly offer you anything,
You would not be reading this twaddle.
* * * *
Until you are pure of mind,
The pain will each day continue
In all the many ways you have chosen.
* * * *
Where there is birth, there must inevitably be death.
All beginnings must succumb to one end or another.
Destruction is required for this creation to continue.
* * * *
It is no longer a statistic when it happens to you.
* * * *
No wind blows, no river roars, no fire rages
Forever.
* * * *
Where once a crossing or view was free,
Rest assured, a tollbooth will find its way.
* * * *
War is not a chess game.
Pieces do not die.
* * * *
To see.
What a blessing.
What a curse.
* * * *
Whether you are mind-numbingly aware,
Or blissfully ignorant,
It will all happen as it always has,
Right now.
* * * *
No matter how great you think you are,
You’re probably still wiping your own rear.
* * * *
Curiously inevitable that one man’s up
Is so often another’s down.
* * * *
Eternity is now.
Eternal life is simply setting aside fabricated identity,
And living in the momentary awareness
Prior to consciousness.
* * * *
Watching everything.
Recording nothing.
* * * *
If humanity is not interested or capable
Of perceiving reality clearly, then so be it.
Whether the water is tainted or pure,
We have no choice but to drink it
If we wish to continue living.
* * * *
You may judge another harshly,
But what makes any of their choices
Any different than the many made by you?
* * * *
Brand new.
Again.
* * * *
Here to witness and participate
In whatever way the moment calls.
* * * *
It is the nature of life to adapt
To whatever circumstances prevail.
* * * *
How far you have come.
How much farther to go.
* * * *
If you think only Jesus or Buddha or Lao Tzu
Or anyone else has god’s ear,
You see so little.
* * * *
Many decisions to reach this point in time.
Regrets are useless distractions.
Learn from the mistakes,
Then let them go.
* * * *
Cut out the middleman.
Find the Way for your Self.
* * * *
Without a sense of history,
Culture declines, chaos ensues
Until a new order coalesces,
And a new history unfurls.
* * * *
Go anywhere where people mill to and fro.
And you will see what a witness
You have become.
* * * *
How pointless all idealism regarding the human theater.
And yet, through it all, the thread of oneness is the source.
Irony and paradox, paradox and irony, again, ever again.
* * * *
Pause to remember what it was like
Before you began waking up,
And you will understand
Where all but a few
Will ever reside.
* * * *
There is no top or bottom to the food chain.
Everything consumes, everything is consumed.
Time never dies, the circle is not round.
* * * *
The webs woven by spiders,
And those even more complex by men,
Are really only different in form, scale and means.
* * * *
The higher you go, the less you care.
* * * *
In the end,
Life is little more
Than a blink of the eye,
Or the in and out of a breath.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)
© Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World Rights Reserved