20 September 2009

Chapter 251 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)

CCLI

Your body and persona are doomed.
You are but a slab of meat on another’s table.
It is only the Soul that inhabits all things that perseveres.
The other is merely theater, an array of distracting bells and whistles.
You are the groundness from which all things spring,
That upon which all stages are built,
That in which all plays
Are played.

* * * *
Any given point of this dreaming of awareness you call your life
Is only connected by the reincarnation of imagination.
The neuron trail of the brain deceives us all.
Every moment is a new beginning
If you are able and willing
To let go of those many memories.

* * * *
To be content, to be serene, to free one’s Self
From the endless wavering of the mind
Is a moment-to-moment challenge.

* * * *
History only seems
To confuse, bother or bore
The restless masses.

* * * *
Imagine the unfathomable universe
With those countless galaxies, dwarf stars,
Nebulas, quasars and black holes
Orbiting in your brain.

* * * *
Are they still huddled about their little piles of books and tapes
Waiting for the masses to come follow their appointed savior?

* * * *
Truth reflects though the paradox of time.

* * * *
The agricultural, industrial and technological revolutions
Have built the winding stairway to the great fall
Humankind must inevitably make
If it is ever to discern
Its humble role
In this eternal mystery.

* * * *
Meditation is the means through which sovereignty is recovered.
Immersed in innumerable gimmicks and complexities
The essential point remains the same:
In abeyance, tread softly.

* * * *
Despite all pretensions
Of being something greater,
Nothing in the entire human drama
Has been anything more than imagination
Playing out one drama after another.

* * * *
What a foolish game we play.

* * * *
No matter how much we may revile each other,
The reality is that we are all cousins
Cloaked in diversity.

* * * *
The less you believe,
The less you attach,
The less the world
Impacts your day.

* * * *
Anything can be usurped.

* * * *
So many horrors we inflict upon ourselves,
And all the blameless creatures
Of this amazing world.

* * * *
Claim nothing.

* * * *
No matter how you cloak it
No matter how you perfume it,
Shit stinks.

* * * *
Death is the easiest piece in all this hubbub.

* * * *
For a raging fire, a backburn is set.
With the raging insanity of ignorance,
The strategic principle remains the same.
Such is the role of mystics and philosophers.

* * * *
Another day residing in the mind's fountain,
Pen and paper ever within reach,
Waiting nonchalantly
For the words
That inevitably come.

* * * *
A philosopher!
What a useless calling.
What would your mother say?
Oops, she did . . .
Oh, sorry.

* * * *
Hell is a harsh marketplace.

* * * *
Not too many people
Want to hear that this may be
All there is.

* * * *
Playing all our little parts
As if they are so significant,
As dulling as it eventually gets,
Makes for endless absurdity.

* * * *
More grist for the money-changers.

*
Only those caught in the web of imagination’s delusion
Would ever assert that they are the same persona their entire life.
None of those memories have ever been the real you.
The eternal awareness may seem the same,
But that’s about it for continuity.

* * * *
To see this clearly is to become as a child, blamelessly innocent.
All regret, all guilt, all dread, all concern for karma drop away,
And only very real clarity of momentary awareness remains.

* * * *
Your real resume is much more
Than a couple of pages,
And among many other things
Includes the title, “galactic engineer.”

* * * *
Anonymity within
Is the clearest order
Consciousness can attain.

* * * *
Originally spoken and transcribed in Aramaic
Then to Greek to Latin to English . . .
A tricky thing, translation.
Never quite the same
As originally said or written,
No matter how well-scholared the intention.

* * * *
So was it love one another,
Or love one in another?

* * * *
Travel across the world, or over to a nearby field,
From beginning to end, it is really all the same.

* * * *
A prescription for what ails you.

* * * *
The human drama
Is in reality nothing more
Than a collusion of imagination.

* * * *
A garden without a gardener attending it
Quickly falls into disrepair and dysfunction.

* * * *
Even a so-called Supreme Being,
If there is such a noble piece of work,
Is but a part of the same oneness as you.

* * * *
The butterfly wing casts a small ripple into the wind.
The stonemason’s pick vibrates through the mountain.
History is given the slightest nudge by a sage’s whisper.

* * * *
Drink and be merry while ye may, my friends,
For the night will, indeed, grow much darker.

* * * *
What is this absorbing craving
That so many human beings have
To be noticed and accepted by others?

* * * *
We are all the only one there really is.
Nothing to be arrogant about.
Quite humbling, actually.

* * * *
Think for yourself,
Or else someone else
Will surely be quite happy
To do it for you.

* * * *
Good and evil are imaginary concepts of consciousness.
Gods and devils are convenient means for ignorance
To avoid the ultimate reality that it is really all you.
Truth requires a capacity relatively few harbor.

* * * *
It is a never-ending irony
How reason can be so easily suspended
In the unambiguous illumination of new and improved information.
The twists and turns of which delusion is capable
Seem well beyond number.

* * * *
We are all mutts of the same origin.

* * * *
Whether or not you see
The gist of what’s written here,
Will, in large part, depend how attached you are
To any given mindset.

* * * *
Resolve easily garnered
Is as easily misplaced.

* * * *
Another crest-jewel of human idolatry.

* * * *
The great equalizer is bound to no form or concept.

* * * *
All religions are cults
Until enough are sufficiently deluded
To grant them legitimacy.

* * * *
These are reflections, not commandments.

* * * *
Perhaps what we as a species are to blind to today
Will be blatantly obvious in some distant morrow.

* * * *
The Way,
By any other name,
Ever remains the same.

* * * *
Hypocrisy is a trait seemingly common to all.

* * * *
Forget who you think you are.
Become what you really are.

* * * *
All minds are bent and twisted in the prelude to time.
The original nature, which is empty and pure,
Is shaped by nature and nurture
Into an imaginary role.
All you, by so many names.

* * * *
Idolatry is such a comfortable, mesmerizing delusion.
How much easier it is for ignorance to wrap itself around
Superstition and platitude than the effort of perpetual inquiry.

* * * *
So obvious as to be cleverly hidden
To all but the most discerning.

* * * *
Without all your imaginary assumptions,
What would you be?

* * * *
Forever moot, the mystery dreamily unfolds.

* * * *
All is relative.
The source of all,
Whatever it is named,
Is absolute.

* * * *
Memory is such an unlikely thing.
A collection of perceptions, vaguer by the year,
All inevitably forgotten as the synapses one by one collapse,
And dreamtime evaporates into eternity’s vastness.

* * * *
The Soul is just one big nada.

* * * *
Humanity's fall
It will most likely be a long,
Drawn out, agonizingly painful whimper.

* * * *
It would be easy
To laugh at the absurdity
If the tears didn't get in the way.

* * * *
Give up all that swirling, vexing passion
For deep, overriding, unassailable inner peace.
The bliss and joy of contentment is well worth the trade.

* * * *
Martyrdom is the ultimate vanity,
Self-absorption to the nth degree.

* * * *
Dang, you lost track of your Self again.
Wake up . . . go to sleep . . . wake up . . .

* * * *
Ever-present, we doggedly burden ourselves
Through all our imaginary attachments to time and space.
How little effort it takes to be a rock, tree or cloud.

* * * *
All that pain, nothing gained.

* * * *
True religion cannot be organized.
Anyone attempting to do so
Should be ignored.

* * * *
Just another middleman begging for quarters.

* * * *
Losing sight of nature’s guiding hand
Is a sure road to perdition.

* * * *
War is glorious
Until you see the face of the guy next to you
Turn into goo.

* * * *
Every moment an opportunity
For momentous reflection.

* * * *
When the vein dries up,
Where do all the ticks go.

* * * *
Peace is the avenue to joy.

* * * *
Cloud Nine is in the no-man’s land
Between the heart and mind.

* * * *
Another transcendent moment
Drifting into memory.
Life goes on.
Time to clean your bowl,
Do your laundry, blow your nose, wipe your ass . . .
The moments just keep flowing.

* * * *
Different perceptions of the same thing
Doesn't mean it isn’t the same thing.

* * * *
God is quanta, god is cosmos.
God is nothing, god is everything.
Amazing grace.

* * * *
Wanting nothing from any other,
Including that which is godness,
Is a sure avenue to inner peace,
A perception of divinity prior
To all dualistic notions.

* * * *
Funny how existence changes
When you discover that which
More you did not really want.

* * * *
Looking back, it was all one long, dreamy sameness.
The play of consciousness, what a wondrous illusion.

* * * *
None of us can have it entirely our way all the time.
If only . . . is a prelude as vast as any universe.

* * * *
The difference
Between here and there
Is but a perception.

* * * *
Sublime and absurd
Wander hand-in-hand.

* * * *
The mind is as vast and immutable
As the universe in which it contains.

* * * *
Must be someone else’s fantasy.
Maybe the next guy.

* * * *
The pitter-patter
Of yet another thought
Rains onto paper.

* * * *
From in to out, and out to in.
The immutability of Soul
Is eternally indivisible.

* * * *
What is so obvious now
Could not have been back then,
As will like likely be true someday again.


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