12 September 2009

Chapter 264 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)

CCLXIV

For all you have taken,
Give back to the garden
Whatever you have to offer.

* * * *
Beneath the innumerable
Masks and costumes of all creation,
Discern the same oneness you are and will ever be.

* * * *
A perspective too vast for imagination
To more than momentarily fathom.

* * * *
We all reside somewhere in the statistical array.

* * * *
Discern that which has no space for any division.

* * * *
Resistance is futile.

* * * *
Everyone wants to believe they are beautiful.
What makes you think you are not?

* * * *
Serve the one in all.

* * * *
The power of your light
Is limited only by your vision.

* * * *
Why do you allow leaders to unjustly dominate you?
Why do you accept visions clouded by vanity?

* * * *
Human must learn to tend the garden,
Else a barren weed patch it will become.

* * * *
Be aware of history in such a manner
As not to be weighed down by it.

* * * *
Any given history
Is often devised from
Of a very dubious collection
Of random perceptions.

* * * *
Death is the easy part.

* * * *
Your true wealth is eternal.

* * * *
If you spend your brief existence
Trapping your consciousness in conceptual boxes,
You will never recover the innocence
Eternity freely offers.

* * * *
Martyrdom
Can be a very harsh way
To get remembered in the history books.

* * * *
How amazing that so many
Are satisfied with pulpits, pews
And a lifetime of numbing sermons
When the real church is outside
Waiting for a tranquil stroll.

* * * *
Compromising your integrity
Is rarely done without consequence.

* * * *
To abide among the many,
All the while recalling you are the oneness,
Is a moment to moment challenge.

* * * *
What will you do about your insatiable lust
When your penis or vagina turn to slime?

* * * *
Those spots you sometimes see
Swimming around in your eyes
Are really holes in your universe.

* * * *
Practice surrender until there is nothing left to practice.

* * * *
Forget yourself, remember your Self.

* * * *
Same clay, a different day.

* * * *
Once you have seen this, what else is there to do?
Who is left to enjoy the drunk, but the drunkenness itself?

* * * *
Laugh at the madness and absurdity
You once believed so real and important.

* * * *
Narcissus only had a pool of water to admire his delusion.
How many human beings do not several times daily
Catch themselves in one reflection or another?
No creature ever born of any garden
Has ever with its own eyes
Directly viewed its ever-changing face.
Will you ever stop recycling your imagined reflection
And discern the faceless nature that truly resides beneath all veils?

* * * *
Madness abounds.

* * * *
Throughout the play of time, those who see
Have attempted to help others awaken to the greater reality.
Why so few do is a question without answer.

* * * *
Another unsolvable mystery
In a universe already chock-full.

* * * *
Only quantum knows..

* * * *
The same clayness, the same building blocks make up all forms.
Indivisibility is the truth of you and every other.
Any lesser view is a lie.

* * * *
What need for the triviality of vanity
On the infinite scale of your true reality?

* * * *
Is the quest for joy
Just another neurological,
Narcissistic pleasure?

* * * *
How powerfully shallow all creeds.
Discern the difference between belief,
Which is a confused blend of fear and hope,
And knowing, which is simply being fearlessly aware.

* * * *
The real you is indestructible,
So what's to save?

* * * *
Those who assert a spiritual hierarchy is the way to eternal salvation
Are plying the gullibility of fear and the desire for continuity.
They are the illusion that you must see through
To comprehend the ultimate reality
That you truly are.

* * * *
Work it, baby.

* * * *
A new context
In which to reflect
Upon all things eternal.

* * * *
Those who preach hell and damnation
Reside in their own delusionary underworld.

* * * *
Whether on mountain, in valley, by sea or in desert,
Whether in countryside or city, whether inside or outside,
Whether surrounded by silence or explosive noise,
You are whatever you are, wherever you are,
As you have ever been, and will ever be.

* * * *
Words are the conceptual tools
Consciousness employs
To survive and thrive
In its imagined sensory sea.

* * * *
But for our nimble minds,
We are really not all that different
From any other creature great or small.
We all eat, we all shit, we all struggle to survive.
But for thumbs, where would we be?

* * * *
Do those hands and feet
Really belong to you?

* * * *
You will seek out teachers and guides
Until you no longer need a helping hand.

* * * *
Awaken to your Self,
The friend and lover within.

* * * *
Without the impressions perceived by consciousness,
There would be no awareness, no time, no pleasure, no pain.
That which is reality must witness and endure whatever life is given,
Until through death's portal it returns to the oblivion from which it was born.

* * * *
The human drama
Is as meaningful to the totality
As fog is to the sun.

* * * *
There is not one portion of your existence
To which you can really hold fast
Every single memory
Is the delusion of imagination.

* * * *
Whatever you are, of your death you can be quite sure.
Perhaps, maybe, sort of, depends . . .
Who's perceiving.

* * * *
How would you ever know how alone you truly are
Without the advent of this conscious dream inspired by the senses?
The separation of birth is the origin of all suffering.
Death will mark its conclusion.

* * * *
Some have called birth the original sin.
Surely, no infant can truly be blamed
For being brought into this garden
Without any voice in the matter.

* * * *
What a insufferable load of silliness history has dealt all of us.
What would it have been like to be out alone in the wild,
Earth, wind, fire and water your only teachers.

* * * *
You are more lonely out there
Than you will ever be in here.

* * * *
It is attachment to the sensory shell,
And the innumerable thoughts about it,
That creates the suffering of identity.

* * * *
Can you want nothing from anyone or anything?

* * * *
The personality
Any other
Believes is you
Does not really exist.
As anything more than a figment
Of their imagination.

* * * *
You have temporarily aligned with the given body as an identity.
It shackles you into a time bound set of perceptions.
Clear, fearless discernment is required
If you are ever to reassert
Your true nature.

* * * *
The infinity of the womb
Is prior to all imaginings.

* * * *
It is a deep loneliness that inspires
Desire, fear, anger and sorrow.

* * * *
Superstition is a drowning weight
Cast by the mind bound in ignorance.

* * * *
Immature reasoning does not for truth make.

* * * *
We all just play out our vain little parts
In this vast theater of absurdity and delusion.
As big or small as any given role may appear to be,
Every brick is equally vital for the wall to stand.

* * * *
What madness time in mind invokes.

* * * *
Declare peace within and without,
And a momentous quietude unfolds.

* * * *
Without you,
This universe, as only you imagine it,
Will cease to exist.

* * * *
How long will they wait for Jesus to return?
Another two, three, four, ten thousand years . . .
Before they finally realize it just ain't going to happen.

* * * *
What is the body but a puddle of protoplasm
Hemmed in by an exterior of dead skin cells.

* * * *
No one can lead you
To the source of awareness at the core of your being.
Those who discern it can only point it out.
The rest is entirely up to you.

* * * *
In any given moment,
All the suffering wrought by imagination
Can be transcended forever.
Such is heaven.

* * * *
Everyone trying so hard to make their mark,
Which often ends up being an anonymous stain.

* * * *
Life is but a brief journey of mind.

* * * *
The only thing barring anyone
From union within in any given moment
Is the vain attachment to an imaginary existence.

* * * *
Check your assumptions.

* * * *
Hasn't it always been this way.

* * * *
We are all driven by a life force
Too strong for most to even comprehend,
Much less begin to overcome.

* * * *
We are all an infinitesimal piece of immortality
Playing out a brief delusion in a mortal theater.

* * * *
Whoever Jesus was, whatever he really did, really doesn't matter.
He died many moons ago, and he is not coming back.
So sorry . . . deal with it . . . move on.

* * * *
The prophet of doom
May finally be worth heeding.

* * * *
Seriously, folks.

* * * *
Mortal players,
And the immortal Soul,
Are different only in appearance.

* * * *
All this writings have bubbled onto paper
Because the scribe is prone to easily forgetting
The unseen reality in the day-to-day of work and play.
Despite the many reflections about life and the absoluteness,
He is not quite ascetic enough, at this writing, to completely surrender
To the be-in-the-world-but-not-of-it wordless god-drunk
That the silent stillness of eternity offers.
And so, the words keep coming.

* * * *
One can attempt to ignore one's calling,
But it is not the nature of destiny
To be completely dismissed.

* * * *
The five senses weave an enticing dream.
Complete liberation while conscious in the world
Is perhaps the greatest challenge life offers.

* * * *
Those who oppose you at any level
Are among your greatest teachers.

* * * *
For whatever reason,
The call of vanity and ignorance
Is strong in human beings around the world.

* * * *
Forget for a moment
What you believe you look like,
Your name, your thoughts about everything.
Discern the stillness, the abeyance of consciousness,
And tarry in that serenity for as long as the contriving mind allows.
Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out . . .
It is that simple for those who are ready.

* * * *
Be kind to your dream.

* * * *
The only moon, the only sun,
Are the ones in your mind.

* * * *
We have allowed the imbalances
Of the innumerable voices
To rule our world.

* * * *
Real discipline is natural,
Without thought or calculation.

* * * *
Enjoy for the seamless moment
The bliss prior to who, what, when, where, why, how,
In which you see what you truly are.

* * * *
Forge your own trail,
Be godness in your own way
In the return to oneness.


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