23 September 2009

Chapter 245 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)

CCXLV

We are all very present in the ever-unfolding moment.
The same awareness abides in an unimaginable number of forms.
Each feels distinct, yet all are ever the same indivisibility.

* * * *
Martyrdom is just another dead end
In vanity’s smoke and mirror maze.

* * * *
What can be imagined can be experienced.

* * * *
Any steaming pile of shit
Can believe itself a mountain,
Or a puddle of piss, a lake.

* * * *
Peering out from your sensory quantum dream,
The universe is created of an infinite data bank
Sparked by the nuclear reaction of imagination.

* * * *
Learning to discern reasonably clearly
Who you can trust, and who you cannot,
Can be, indeed, a repetitive dilemma.

* * * *
Some patterns are challenging to decipher.
There are times you must stare at something in the face
For a long while before you finally see it clearly.

* * * *
How far will science meander
Before consciousness tumbles
Upon the blade of its own creation.

* * * *
What a fine mess we’re drifting into, methinks.

* * * *
Endurance.

* * * *
A lone comma offered up
To history’s latest pages.

* * * *
Whooh-hooh.

* * * *
When the mind is still, each moment passes timelessly.
The more complicated one’s existence, the more tethered one is
By time, desire, fear, anger or any other passing passion.

* * * *
The Way is indefinable simplicity,
And to flow effortlessly in any given moment,
One must inwardly cease all ambition to become anything.
Literally.

* * * *
Why is it so hard for so many
To believe this may be
All there is?

* * * *
Wake up, wake up,
Wherever you are.

* * * *
Preaching to the choir
Is a diddly-squat waste
Of good walking time.

* * * *
Is fear ever inspiring?

* * * *
Recollection is the challenge.
It is so easy to forget again and again,
To fall into the abyss of delusion.
And yet, does it really matter?

* * * *
Naaahhh!

* * * *
I Am . . . the Way . . . the Truth . . . the Life . . .

* * * *
The best walk, the best sit, the best breath . . .
Really, the best anything . . .
Is done without intention.

* * * *
Nothing remarkable.
Nothing . . . remarkable.

* * * *
Observe the infinity about and within you
Without interference from any outside influence,
And you will clearly discern for your Self
What is true and what is not.

* * * *
It is a question of perception.

* * * *
Tick . . . tock . . . tick . . . tock . . .

* * * *
When you have seen whatever it is you have needed to see,
When you have been whatever you have needed to be,
Then you will, perhaps, be prepared to die to it all.

* * * *
Who can say if or when,
Or if not or when not?

* * * *
Many hold on to their early conditioning,
Never expanding into a broader,
Less parochial vision.
The confines of ignorance
Are bliss for some, torture for others.

* * * *
There’s nothing to see, nothing to do,
So much nothing until the day is through.

* * * *
The path to end all paths journey . . .
To be continued.

* * * *
The mind naturally seeks to solve problems,
Even the impenetrable, insoluble ones.
The result is an endless pack of lies
Filed under belief, faith and hope.

* * * *
Scientific procedures have enabled
A more complete examination of the mystery.
It is far less likely that natural physical laws were suspended
Than cultural groupings throughout the world in ancient times were unable
To discern clearly the seemingly random events about them.
Instead, most developed paranormal explanations
To deal with the many inexplicable hardships
With which they were forced to contend.
A completely logical way of coping with things,
But more often that not an incomplete set of assumptions
That deny, often with great passion, more sustainable conclusions.

* * * *
So much struggle, and for what, really?
Savor what time you have as best you may.
A brief dream, none ever the same in every way.

* * * *
Pink: The color of blood-stained panties.

* * * *
The god of time hath no fury but the mind.

* * * *
Idolatry is the worship of tacky, second hand figurines.

* * * *
Another mediocre, dubious mind-made creation.

* * * *
Stuff your head as much as you pleas.
See how much it hurts when goes pop.

* * * *
Conditioning blinds all who lack the spirit to question.

* * * *
You do not require permission from any other to wake up.

* * * *
The Grand Nada.

* * * *
Just going through the motions at this point.

* * * *
The fruit of Eden was self-absorption.

* * * *
A log full of termites doesn’t last long.

* * * *
This is the book for my future Self.

* * * *
Why follow an agenda dictated tens,
Hundreds or thousands of years ago?
Odds are they were as demented as we,
Perhaps even more so.

* * * *
Why are so many afraid to declare independence
From those who would chain their soul?

* * * *
Travel as far and wide as you will,
Eventually you realize your own back yard
Was the same infinity.

* * * *
Just another Easter Island,
This round on a global scale.
A bit longer timetable, to be sure,
But all too predictable nonetheless.
Be happy you won’t have to endure it.

* * * *
Everyone does what interests them,
And most will consider it all-important.
But in the end, it is only their imagination
Which fuels their self-absorbed path to glory.

* * * *
A mind in which every assumption is questioned.
Is a mind less and less burdened by the day to day.

* * * *
In the end, it will be as it was from the beginning.

* * * *
We created god,
And he in all his divine mercy and wisdom,
Chose us in return.
How convenient.

* * * *
Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit . . .
So much bullshit.

* * * *
The last desire is craving nothing
So badly you can no longer taste it.

* * * *
The pond unruffled by wind or ripple
Is a solitary, placid dream, indeed.

* * * *
When given a variety of interesting choices,
The true hedonist does them all.

* * * *
In inner death, there is eternal life.

* * * *
All that craving, where doe it take you?

* * * *
Romantic notions are challenging to maintain for long.

* * * *
Michael of Hughson.
American Krishna.

* * * *
Isn’t everyone their own unique eccentric blend?

* * * *
Almost every problem that faces
This human calamity in the making
Is about: Too . . . many . . . people.

* * * *
Would a kilo by any other name weigh the same?

* * * *
Rush . . . rush . . . rush . . . to the next stop sign.
And the next . . . and the next . . . and so many well beyond that . . .
Tortoise and Hare again and again and again.

* * * *
Well done, minion.
You serve my purpose well.

* * * *
Another unfolding tragedy.

* * * *
One end of the tube is connected to the other,
With a biological meandering septic system between.
You might say even shit wanders aimlessly.

* * * *
It is so simple
That anyone ensnared in semantics and rhetoric
Will miss it entirely.

* * * *
If you are asked to conform,
It is dogma, not truth.

* * * *
Another non-issue given much ado.

* * * *
The Apocalypse is the ongoing battle
Over which illusion will dominate
The arid plain we are creating.

* * * *
Give yourself over to doubt.
It is the fulcrum to immortality.

* * * *
What discussion can there be
With someone who has not
Done the assigned homework.

* * * *
The madness that is divine.

* * * *
A mind in which every assumption is questioned
Is a mind that discerns all limits are imagined.

* * * *
Sugar, flour, caffeine, alcohol, drugs
And other pleasures of the senses and mind
Weave into enticing temptations in ever so many ways.

* * * *
Your mortal container
Cannot be embalmed forever.
Dust is as dust does.

* * * *
What dreams are yet to come in this grand play?

* * * *
Another futile attempt to reign in the madness.

* * * *
No matter how you say it,
It is all you.

* * * *
So sorry.

* * * *
Few hear the mystery’s call.

* * * *
Without great doubt,
You will never be free.

* * * *
Mine the earth to its core,
Inevitably, it only has so much to give.
You are offered only so much before the bell tolls.

* * * *
Nothingness ever abides
In the illusion of somethingness.

* * * *
Crack the shell of your mind.
Fly free.

* * * *
Grasp what is between the lines
Of any religion or philosophy
In any geography throughout history
And discern for your Self the truth and lie in all.

* * * *
Attachment to idolatry runs deep in the human psyche.

* * * *
Perception is all.

* * * *
Debating over which religion or philosophy is supreme
Is akin to a quibble over which curtain best covers the window.

* * * *
We are not as important
To the universe or god
As we deign believe.

* * * *
Curious how women love babies and glitter,
And men, sharp blades and dreams of pussy.

* * * *
Cling, baby, cling,
Until your mind slips away.

* * * *
We are only as important to the theater
As we have wit and savvy to survive
Our seemingly relentless absurdity.

* * * *
It is the deepest jungle,
The emptiest desert,
The swiftest river,
The farthest shore,
The highest mountain.
There is no corner of the infinity
From which it does witness the unfolding.

* * * *
We all seem to be channels
To one destiny or another.

* * * *
You play out the restlessness of desire,
Endure the accompanying shadow of pain and fear,
And yet, are they truly any different but through the drift of imagination.

* * * *
Come now, is any of it really worth taking so seriously?

* * * *
Consciousness is viable only for as long
As life’s dreamy epoch is allowed to carry on.

* * * *
You are an unfolding function
Of that mystery which is prior
To all form and consciousness.

* * * *
Sodoms and Gomorrahs
Are inevitably, irrevocably consumed
In the flames of their own depravity and corruption.


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