CCLX
The sense of separation created by the senses – sight, sound, smell, taste, touch –
Has been the underpinning of languages across the world, across time.
The subject-object attributes of me, of you, of we, of they, of it,
Have fashioned a dualistic dynamic of every imaginable reckoning.
The indelible indivisibility from which this three-dimensional dream has risen
Is a fact few minds are capable of discerning, and even they must abide the day-to-day.
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Take all those science classes current education offers
– Biology, chemistry, physics, and all their coherently rational brethren –
View them collectively, and see how clearly they point to the same quantum indivisibility.
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One of the more challenging things to overcome is a deep prejudice toward ignorance.
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The innocence of childhood
Is a mind not yet tossed to and fro
By the innumerable travails of the world.
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What is consciousness
But a thunderstorm given order.
By a quantum-gone-neural confabulation.
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Can you live with not knowing?
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Just more human bullshit.
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Humanity’s endless positioning for God's compassion is absurd.
What deity is anyone beseeching for eternal mercy
But one contrived by limited vision.
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When you hear someone declare God is omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient,
Is not there the realization that the infinite ocean also includes you?
All sense of separation is the deception of imagination.
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As soon as any human being is born into this world,
The given environment begins imprinting its ceaseless demands.
It is the original separation, the sensory division that few
Ever even begin to discern, much less fathom.
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Through the senses, the world daily meanders the labyrinth of your imagination.
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Any given personal nature will inevitably be rubbed out.
That which is the impersonal source of all forms
Ever remains eternally untouched.
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A seamless reverie of imaginary junctures.
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Until you identify souly with the whole, you will suffer in imagination's separation.
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How easily the mind can become its own worst enemy.
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If you think yourself imperfect,
It is because you maintain an ideal of perfection
An imaginary notion that can never be attained in dualistic perception.
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Far easier to be caught up in wave after wave
Of suffocating self pity, oppressive guilt or violent rage
Than it is to examine the source of all passion
As a scientist would a grain of sand.
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When you are ready to discern the greatest vision, somehow it will happen.
The play unfolds in its own, spontaneous, mysterious way.
To what end, only time can tell.
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Humanity's time-bound expedition
Is laden with far more conceit than insight,
A reality weighing heavily in its unfolding destiny.
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Breathe in the universe, breathe out the universe.
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What exactly is it about your imaginary personality
That you would if you could have continue forever?
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If you believe in god and the devil,
It is challenging to accept the reality
That it is you who have fashioned both.
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That you would for even a moment
Believe yourself separate from anything
Is the measure of the lie you have conceived.
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The worship of any person, any place, any thing, any idea, is idolatry.
The reality is that obsequious adulation is completely gratuitous, utterly absurd,
Once you discern that which you imagine, that which you exalt, has ever been your Self.
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Contrary to the countless machinations born of self-absorbed imagination,
Humanity's presence in this manifest dreamtime is not guaranteed.
Our kind’s continued existence is based entirely on the ability
To abide by natural law, the dynamic of all creation.
Unspoken, unwritten, yet more than evident
To those who lend the world about them their attention.
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Truth is neither a he, nor a she, nor an it.
That which so many frame god with one sound or another,
Is a faceless quantum dynamic, an indelible, indivisible, impersonal mystery,
Prior to all manifestation, prior to all idolatries of the mortal mind.
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What is the point, what good does it really do,
To credit or debit your lot in this life on the world about you?
Fate is as fate does; every mortal creation has one.
Ultimately, all begin, all end, the same.
Only the stories change.
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Amazing how many have sculpted their god of gold.
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God is a conceptual phantasm born of imagination.
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Look back at any recollection of your perceived existence,
And you will discern the same witness you have ever been.
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The sheath of knowledge is but a temporal covering.
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How can you be finished with this world or any other
Until you can witness any aspect of any dream
With complete and absolute detachment?
What draws you in holds you for as long as you cling.
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The culture into which you were born
Molded the mind and body long before
You even had a smidgen of will to resist.
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The world, the universe, would not exist but for the eyes to see it,
The tongue to taste it, the nose to smell it, the ears to hear it,
The skin to touch it, and the mind to imagine it all so.
The five senses can perceive only exteriors,
And the mind must be transformed
To intuit the depths of manifest beingness.
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But for the vaguest memories, it is as if it never happened at all.
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Someone has an indescribable mystical vision,
Which s/he proceeds to in detail describe.
Others, caught in the web of words,
Scramble for a piece of the pie,
Never remotely grasping the vision
Which they enviously promote and defend.
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Anything will mean to someone whatever the given awareness allows.
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All that is, is born of the same ground,
Merely different geographical assumptions,
All equally molded of the same mystery.
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A dramatic revolution in consciousness
Is required to turn the sharp corner racing humanity's way.
Literally, a quantum paradigm shift.
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You are that to which you pray.
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Stillness is the benchmark of awareness.
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You are the nexus of your universe.
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It is every form's disposable nature
That exhibits the same eternal source
In each and every part and particle.
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Beware those who resolutely question,
Else you might be compelled to examine
The bubble of an imaginary universe
Your mind every moment sustains.
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Truth cannot be dictated by time.
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Too predictable to be worthy of much notice.
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Interesting how we all wander about tagging ourselves with this label or that.
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The hold ignorance has on humankind requires a reckoning few dare fathom.
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Belief, being merely speculation, can never touch true knowing.
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Every culture fashions norms with which free spirits are only outwardly compatible.
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The mind that seeks order has again and again mistakenly attempted
To capture and fashion truth into concepts and symbols and equations.
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You are not required to hold onto the universe whirling about your monkey-mind.
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No one but you can ever really validate you.
Depending on anyone else for sanction
Is a well-worn road to perdition.
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Symbols and rituals are the indolent seeker's rendition of the quest for truth.
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Expectation is a root of disharmony.
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Maya renders so many sensory enticements, so many pleasures.
How challenging it is for anyone to be completely free of any desire.
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What long-winded parable or explanation does a truth-seeker require
That an aphorism cannot, with much less effort,
Make perfectly clear?
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Try holding on to anyone, try holding on to anything, without some degree of suffering.
Attempts to create a kinder world are so often idealistic notions without real intent.
We are far too bound to our covetous greed, and its inevitable diminishment.
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Fruit flies sealed in the laboratory bell jar
Assure the honey's inevitable depletion
As the mindless population desperately vies
For that which once seemed so infinitely plentiful.
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There are tourists, and there are travelers.
Practically two different species, two different genres.
Often mutually exclusive in their motivations.
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How about mooning each other daily,
So that we are reminded what assholes
So many of us so often unmistakably are.
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Divinity resounds in hearts where the no-mind resides.
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A great sense of humor may well be the only remedy for the absurdity that ails us all.
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The human paradigm will never change unless a great many realize we are all faking it,
And make an across-the-board determination to manifest much more equitable behavior
Towards all creatures in the web of life, and this mindboggling garden world in general.
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The challenge is to assume responsibility
For your innumerable thoughts and actions,
No matter how beneficial or reprehensible.
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Best not be holding your breath for that idyllic notion.
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Technology cannot forever sustain
This calamity in the making.
No concept will ever dominate nature.
Only delusion deceives us into such inane pretenses.
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Until a sense of divine nature is invoked in the everyday momentary mundane,
The ultimate unmanifest reality of existence cannot achieve its manifest potential.
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You have to do something, even if it is nothing.
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The agape you solicit from another can only equal that which you impart.
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You are the impersonal personified.
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To have friends, you must be a friend.
To have lovers, you must be a lover.
To have enemies, you must be an enemy.
The world you project is the world in which you exist.
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Those claiming they are Jesus or Buddha or Elvis are obviously delusional.
However, whoever any historical or anonymous personas were or will be,
All are all seeds playing out different nows of the same quantum origin.
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Humankind has proven itself more than capable
Of conjuring every imaginable stratum of hell and heaven.
From the eternal perspective, it really matters not even one scintilla,
But what an epilogue it would be in this absurd little manifest play,
If the species were to somehow evolve into its greatest potential.
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Now springs eternal.
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Mountains rise and fall countless times in the infinite geography of eternity.
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Nature has so many ways of bringing attention back into focus.
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For there to be heaven, all must agree to abide there.
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Very complicated, and very simple, all in the same each and every moment.
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Even supreme beings probably get constipated every once and awhile.
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Through natural law, the chaos of the eternal origin is given manifest order.
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Tyranny sculpts both cowards and martyrs.
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Curious how the masses prefer
Tradition and superstition and ignorance
To their own direct and lucid and rational observation.
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Let us not confuse humanity with humanity.
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Too hot, too cold, whiners all.
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How can creator and creation not be the same?
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Pretty amazing the different universes our bodies play out.
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The quest for peace is a solitary trek.
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Morality is a convenient distraction.
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There is no other, never was, will never be.
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The ultimate irony and paradox is always speaking of time as if it were real.
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The joy of the long stroll is without compare.
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What a burden it is to be made responsible for someone else’s happiness.
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The body is going to die someday, so why not my its own hand?
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Close encounters of the third kind playing out daily.
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Give me anonymity, or give me death.
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Science is only as potent as eye and technology allow.
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Only in the absoluteness of pure awareness is there an end to relativity.
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The seed of tomorrow is in today, and yesterday but an imaginary tale.
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What a burden it is to be responsible for someone else's happiness.
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History is everywhere and nowhere.
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The body lives, the body dies, and imagination imagines between.
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The real you in a nut shell.
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History is relative to every eye that discerns it.
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You are a conditioned recording, nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.
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Truth does not exist because the eternal moment it is, is not.
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What are sight and sound and taste and smell and feeling,
But vibration interpreted by the mind steeped in illusion.
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The deadly cancer began in Africa,
And spread relatively quickly across the world.
Although the garden's potential was relatively unaffected,
Its surface was scarred for many eons to come,
And its many inhabitants great and small
Suffered in every way imaginable,
Many to the point of extinction
Long before their time.
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The Return to Wonder
Field Notes from the Unknown
© Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World Rights Reserved