11 October 2009

Chapter 196 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)

CLICVI

Those neurons sure are deft little magicians.
What difference could exist without them?

* * * *
Consciousness had to evolve
In order for the mystery to witness its Self
In all its imaginary splendor.

* * * *
Bold are the silent ones.

* * * *
So many grand project never begun.

* * * *
Missive to no one,
No who, no what,
No where, No when,
No why, no how, no way,

* * * *
You are the first, always.

* * * *
So many ways to carry the albatross.

* * * *
No wall stands forever.
Time ravages all defenses.

* * * *
There is no method to being free,
For it is in the being that is freeing.

* * * *
There are no followers in this game.

* * * *
Guns and violence do not discerning the matrix make.

* * * *
What a cruel dream the senses weave.

* * * *
Do you really want a truthful answer?

* * * *
Sometimes you just have to take a hit.
It’s the aftermath that tests mettle.

* * * *
What difference does anything truly make?

* * * *
Imagine all the people, living for today.

* * * *
Personality is the response
To the surrounding voices.

* * * *
You may know the drama,
And the set upon which you stand,
But you can never even begin to fathom
The ground from which it springs.

* * * *
All the ideas with which you have built yourself
Are only released through unutterable simplicity.

* * * *
Be devoutly agnostic.

* * * *
Creating a hell for others
Is a twisted, macabre way
To feel good about yourself.

* * * *
People who sign the paychecks tend to receive a lot of tolerance,
Even approbation, for their eccentricities and abusive behaviors.

* * * *
Every life form requires at least one predator to keep it in check.

* * * *
History is only as accurate
As the vision, and intent,
Of those who chronicle.

* * * *
How bored god must be
With our unending foolishness.
No wonder he vacations so frequently.

* * * *
Science is the current exertion of ignorance.

* * * *
Personality is the mind’s effort to survive psychologically.

* * * *
Reason and accountability are in such short supply.

* * * *
When you are completely attentive,
Thoughtless to the nowness and its unfolding,
The press of past and future withdraw to the sidelines.
There is a resting ease, a cessation of hunger, a contentment,
The description of which is impossible, and unnecessary.

* * * *
Passion is the mind’s unquenchable thirst for more.
The timeless is, without the sweeping dramas of desire.

* * * *
Sometimes you embrace this vain existence;
At other times it cannot end soon enough.
Yet through all the pendulum swings,
You are ever exactly the same.

* * * *
So challenging to be detached all the time.

* * * *
Those who weigh life only in loss or gain,
Miss out on the real opportunity
Of this dusty dream.

* * * *
Does it really matter
That every point and particle
Awaken to its ultimate mystical reality?
If you do, it is enough.

* * * *
How can you be responsible
For a universe over which
You have absolutely no control?

* * * *
Despite so many assertions to the contrary,
There are no hard and fast rules in the game of life.
We are all individually responsible for our countless choices.

* * * *
What an amazingly foolish fallacy
That another can make you happy.

* * * *
If you live for what others think of you,
You are but a puppet strung along
In one voice-over or another.

* * * *
The excess of options for so many in these current times
Is staggering when contrasted with the weight
Of all preceding human experience.

* * * *
How many ways the mind finds to imprison itself.

* * * *
The wealthy, powerful and famous
Have always been caught up
In the wave of pretense.

* * * *
Some are enamored with the creative force;
Others with that which is destructive.
The end sum is ever balanced,
All accounts paid in full.

* * * *
Every flowering is completely unique,
Yet absolutely, unequivocally the same.

* * * *
What do you know?
Whatever needs knowing.

* * * *
Whether of your sweat, or of your blood,
Those who run the game get their cut.

* * * *
Technique holds no candle to intuition.

* * * *
You want so badly for time to be permanent,
But, alas, it never can be more than a thought.

* * * *
What a fiendish persecutor time can be.

* * * *
No matter how real it may seem,
It has the illusive consistency
Of an ethereal dust storm.

* * * *
In making decisions,
You must set aside the fear
Of stumbling, fumbling, striking out,
Falling short, or even of dying.

* * * *
In strategic and tactical affairs,
Be predictable and unpredictable.
Do not always throw right or run left.
Sometimes charge madly into their midst.
Sometimes wait, feint, or even pretend retreat.
Maneuver at whatever tempo dominates the field.

* * * *
Too much caution accomplishes nothing.
Too much impatience throws away balance.

* * * *
The mighty fear assassination,
The eminent dread being forgotten,
And the rich worry over losing everything.
Power, fame, and fortune can be a dark journey.
A moderate, anonymous, serene existence
Is more enviable than many realize.

* * * *
How to live a richly spiritual existence
Without the wrappings of dogmatic assertion
Is the journey of humble moderation.

* * * *
Resolving conflict runs the gamut
From compromise to war.
It is vain attachment
To one conclusion or another
Which orchestrates the probable outcome.

* * * *
Who is the who
Who selects and correlates
The sensory data?

* * * *
When choice fades into the oblivion of choiceless nature,
How can karma’s volitional accumulation continue?

* * * *
Few are prepared to be done with it.

* * * *
The dream of separation
Continues spiraling in space-time.
Because of consciousness’s identification
With the body-mind’s sensory dream.

* * * *
The world is as attached to you as you are to it.
It has many ways to keep you wandering
Along your Yellow Brick Road.

* * * *
Do you every really have any choice?

* * * *
Wherever you go, the universe unfolds.

* * * *
There is no good and evil,
Just the ever-changing collusions
Between what is liked and what is not liked.
One man’s good is another’s evil,
And visa-versa.

* * * *
History’s ceaseless vain attempts
To create a lasting set of rules
Illustrates again and again
There are really none.

* * * *
The power sought by mortals is meaningless.
Real power is beyond imagination
And any need for it.

* * * *
Life is a vast smorgasbord.
The sum total of which
Means nothing.

* * * *
Now is the spontaneous outcome
Of an energetic die role made long ago.

* * * *
Any dream can transform
Into a hellish nightmare
At the twist of a thought.

* * * *
The passionate mind is like
A scalding cup of coffee
Sloshing from side to side.
It may take many burned fingers
To understand how to drink it carefully.

* * * *
It is the attachment to passion
That generates the passion.

* * * *
Some containers cloak reality better than others.

* * * *
The vast diversity combines and recombines
In an infinite array of synergistic sets
For every reason imaginable.

* * * *
We are all the same eternal essence,
Each inventing and delineating
A unique imaginary way.

* * * *
You operate within the limits of your fabrication.

* * * *
Boys, boys, boys.
Girls, girls, girls.
An endless play.

* * * *
You awaken into another day of desire’s sport.
How many ways to be enticed by existence
Into one passionate reaction or another.
What difference, really, but subtlety?

* * * *
Look into your own mind
And discern why our many creations
Are enchanting our souls.

* * * *
We certainly have enough population,
Enough idols, enough leaders, enough religion,
Enough technological wonders, enough differentiation,
Enough of just about everything imaginable,
To make a very fine kettle of fish.

* * * *
How much of the world humanity has conjured,
Of artificial knowledge and experience,
To continue accumulating?

* * * *
All you life you have believed so many things matter.
Only to you, and the many others.

* * * *
Every brick in a wall,
Every drop in a cloud,
Every snowflake in a drift,
Every grain of sand in a beach,
Every part and particle in every where,
Is individually, essentially, absolutely indivisible.

* * * *
No matter how enlightened you are,
You will still play it out according
To your personal narrative.

* * * *
How can anyone
Become something
When there is really
No time but to be?

* * * *
Political correctness is nothing new.
It is the force behind any inquisition.

* * * *
What vanity to think god favors any form,
Costume, tradition, ritual, symbol or dogma.
Surely, the great mystery has never been bound
By the idiosyncrasies of human collusion.

* * * *
The entropy of the way
Consumes all forms
Back into the formless reality.

* * * *
Humanity is drowning in the ignorance of its ignorance.

* * * *
How can you know
What none can ever know?
Mu, baby, mu.

* * * *
Imagine current events through the veil
Of what will be written about it in time.

* * * *
Any corporate body
Will be only too happy
To accept your sacrifice
For its laudable cause.

* * * *
Do you awaken into dreaming,
Or drift into dreaming
You are awake?

* * * *
Whatever way you choose,
It is all the dream of Oz
In one Kansas or another.

* * * *
Respect your Self enough to stop the inner torture.

* * * *
Did the Jesus or Buddha
Or whoever you might imagine,
Ever really exist?

* * * *
To be godness in the flesh,
What a challenging tightrope.

* * * *
Drift nonchalant,
Or drift hectic and distracted,
It is all the same.


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