11 October 2009

Chapter 190 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)

CLIC

Accepting things the way they are
Is one of life’s greatest challenges.

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Want whatever the moment calls from you.

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Don’t try to deny it.
You’re as vain as anyone else.

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“Come out,” replied the fly the spider.

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There is no time, only the illusion of time.

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The moment is the eternal wellspring of all creation.

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It is a sanity seemingly few will ever discern.

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Where is this now of which you so highly speak?

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The sea of human suffering is not yours to mend.

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Is a drop a drop?
Is an ocean an ocean?
Or is a drop an ocean?
And an ocean a drop?

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It passes, it passes,
Quickly or slowly, everything passes,
And no matter the scheme,
You cannot stop it.

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Eden, in all the noise of creation,
Was a very quiet place, as is any now
Without the tangled rush of concept.

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The mind’s ache to become
Is the ache of the bud seeking to explode
Into it’s true, unlimited fulfillment.

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Taking responsibility for your choices in a choiceless manner
Is a surrender few discern, much less master.

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You can only see what you think you know.

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Are you going to spend your time arguing about it,
Or will you give up everything to discover
That which you claim to seek?

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The world is not really concerned
Whether you hold on to it or not.

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Any concept is only as clear
As the mind in which it dwells.

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Your universe is a vaporous delusion.

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Break the pattern,
And chances are
They’ll never find you.

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Don’t expect another to live your life,
Especially if they have their own.

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To abide in this temporal realm
Is to tolerate a galaxy of vanity.

* * * *
You are not of this time or that time.
You are of all eternity, that of which
Time is merely an infinitesimal scratch
Upon which all light and shadow dances.

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Infinity’s infinity of parts
Includes the you
You truly are.

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We’re still the children of god
Because we haven’t grown up.

* * * *
Just killing time.

* * * *
The passion of youth is not easily maintained.

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Inner serenity cannot be willed.
Separation and unity are mutually exclusive,
The former a product of dualistic free will, and the latter
A surrender to the oblivion of personal identity.
How arduous to reside in the world
For those who seek union.

* * * *
Unity appears to have many levels,
But that is, of course, merely more illusion
For the active mind seeking continuity.

* * * *
Bliss is the cotton candy of nothingness.

* * * *
Do not wait for god to knock at the door.
The source is in every heartbeat
And every breath.

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If you are a student, study.
If you are a teacher, teach.
If you are both, do one
As you do the other.

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The serenity is always present.
It is only the rippling waves of passion
Which shroud the reality of unmanifest totality.

* * * *
All personal contexts
Are intertwined
In the same eternal holograph,
A matrix woven of creation and destruction.

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Our choices
Are creating a future
Few will envy.

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In the fog of time, you are born
To witness the mystery as you will.
To die and die again until you discern
There is no death but through delusion,
That you are truly that which is sovereign,
Unmanifest, impersonal and absolute
Prior to all imaginings sponsored
By the mind born of limitation.

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Enlightenment
Is born of the fever
Of resolute discrimination.

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What gold
Can be more valuable
Than that within?

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The real revolution is the one that transforms
You into the awareness that you are That I Am.
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All the distraction from what is real.
Will it ever end?

* * * *
No better way to ruin something
Than to know too much about it.

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Heaven is a little piece of nothing.

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A tranquil pond, a crashing ocean storm.
Consciousness, from heaven to hell,
Not really so different after all.

* * * *
Where are you in the theater of absolute stillness?

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In the beginning, nothing.
In the end, nothing.
And between,
The illusion of nothing
Cloaked in a dream of something.

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Do you have the courage to be truly free?
To die to your dream, and discern
That prior to all dreams.

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The fulfillment of time is its ending.

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All conflict is born of vain reasoning.

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What dream could there be without knowledge?

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Chances are that when you piss into a stream,
Eventually you will be downstream drinking it.

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Your ceaseless attempts
To cling to anything in this manifest theater,
Brings about only suffering.

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Behind the masks of every personal context
Is the ocean of eternity’s maskless nature.

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Does the ocean recall every crashing wave?
Do you cling to every passing breath?
What full lungs you must have.

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Totality,
Of which god is such a meager part.

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To those whom ambition so fill,
A mystic is just another bum.

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Aimless wandering,
To which this soul is so partial.

* * * *
When you can be offered the universe,
And feel a simple, content breath is enough,
You’ll really have all there is to have.

* * * *
Still trying to placate that god of imaginary origin.

* * * *
What pleasure is not short-lived?

* * * *
Bloated on affluence, the parasites gorge on.

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Moments of non-caring are to die for.

* * * *
Another interesting experiencing
You really weren’t all that interested in experiencing.

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Born again and again and again.
The never-ending rebirth of eternity.

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Count it however many times you will,
The answer is always the same.

* * * *
The truth of words is a melee of contradiction.

* * * *
It all boils down to nothing.

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You are the stillness in motion,
And the motion in stillness.

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Every moment awareness dawns
Into a new awakening of consciousness.

* * * *
An kaleidoscope of gray
Only playing black and white
In Technicolor and surround sound.

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Who is the doer?
And is there anything such as doership?

* * * *
There’s nothing to work on.

* * * *
You don’t choose your parents,
Nor do you choose your children.
What, pray tell, do you choose?

* * * *
Your are an enigma even to thy Self.

* * * *
And what horror will this fine day bring?

* * * *
Embrace your Self.

* * * *
It only matters that you see it now.
Deal with the so-called future
When that now comes into play.

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All the world’s a breath from death.

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Make your breath your dearest friend.

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Tarry now.

* * * *
All the world’s gold will not to even one breath matter.

* * * *
Flights of imagination are all in the head,
And can only take anyone nowhere.

* * * *
Peace comes when you are fully engage
With the process unfolding now.

* * * *
In-flow…out-flow…
In-flow…out-flow…
In-flow…out-flow…
In-flow…out-flow…
That’s all it is…in-flow…out-flow…

* * * *
The mind as identity is a fist of thoughts,
Which must be released
For freedom to reign in time.

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Pray tell, what other I am could you possibly be but
That I Am?

* * * *
Your universe is as large as your imagination.

* * * *
Where does god come from?
Imagine, if you will…

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Through individuality, the indivisible is reckoned.

* * * *
There are no intermediaries
Between you and your birthright.
All attempts are parasitic.

* * * *
Creation and evolution
Are not mutually exclusive concepts.

* * * *
So many wishing they had time,
But none really even have a moment.

* * * *
Time is in the clock hands of your imagination.

* * * *
It is quite all right to be a little bit incompetent and foolish
When self-imagery loses its self-absorbing weight.
To falter, flummox and fail, to make mistakes,
And learn what you can from them.
You may be godness, but it is
In the context of mortal limitation.

* * * *
Through our own ignorance
And the many passions it evokes,
We allow Luciferic Maya access to Eden.

* * * *
Knowledge is bound ignorance.

* * * *
What dream can bind you
But for your chosen
Undying belief?

* * * *
When you take life seriously,
It is really your identification with it
To which you are attached.

* * * *
No collusion
Of the collective consciousness
Can ever know its Self.

* * * *
Attachment to a conceptual framework
Is the foundation of all psychological misery.

* * * *
Be an angel here, and you will not need heaven.

* * * *
No, you do not have time.
Never have, never will.
It’s all make-belief.

* * * *
Encased in every neural nexus, the play of consciousness
Experiences a dreamy, individual universe,
Entirely alone.

* * * *
To see the unseen is the highest goal
In a theater full of imagined goals.

* * * *
Don’t ask this scribe
How this is all taking place.
It’s all just an enormous mystery.
Maybe the next fellow will have a clue.
For now, this will have to do.


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