Chapter 199 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)

CXCIX Open your Self To the near infinity Of possibilities. * * * * You never know when it will be time. * * * * Why would you waste this day In another’s movie? * * * * You are your interests. * * * * Reality is a grand holograph Prior to any sensory reading. * * * * So absolutely lonely That only the aloneness Of nothingness Can fill it. * * * * Is the dreaming Between waking and sleeping All that different? * * * * The order of time veils the chaos of reality. * * * * Even the applause of the entire universe Would not sate a lonely, incomplete soul. * * * * A lot of tollbooths Using little neon signs of Jesus At the collection plate. * * * * Look what havoc five senses hooked into imagination can create. What if there were seven or thirty-seven, or one hundred seven? * * * * Way too many distractions for one lifetime. * * * * Consciousness is merely a thin veneer cloaking the abyss. * * * * Is death an ending, a beginning, Or just a transition to another show. It’s all conjecture until show time arrives. * * * * A snowball in time. What more will the journey bring? * * * * What a bitter aftertaste so many pleasures bring. * * * * The nothingness nobody sees. * * * * The wafting smoke, No direction known. * * * * The leash of time. * * * * Not all that complicated, really. * * * * It is the drama queens That make so many things miserable. * * * * Very challenging to be free Of all the things To which one clings. * * * * So hard not to fall asleep again and again. Becoming Buddha 24/7/365 until death do you part Is a road few have the capacity to journey. * * * * Such a mix to sort through and move beyond. * * * * Anonymous like a shadow. * * * * Across infinity, every conceivable experiencing Happening in one here-now or another. * * * * To not care one iota. How freeing. * * * * Doing nothing ranks high on the things-to-do list. * * * * Awakening is a lost and found exercise. * * * * How many scientists truly have no agenda? Is it even possible? * * * * You have all the tools you need To go all the way to where your now stand. It is a discerning determination that will set you free. * * * * Will the masses ever really comprehend How many mystics amble among them? * * * * The paradox of being a true human being Is that you really no longer are one. * * * * If not this form, then another. * * * * Key historical moments are like punctuation. They demark endings and beginnings In the affairs of consciousness. Time, of course, carries on With nary a shrug. * * * * The advent of self-imagery and knowledge Gradually erodes the innocence of childhood. To rediscover and reclaim the inherent simplicity, One must allow all concern born of time to drop away. * * * * Taking it at all so seriously is the root of the absurdity. * * * * We certainly enjoy all our naming. * * * * In all our connecting, so much disconnectedness. * * * * You only get so many wake-up calls. * * * * Locked within every seed Is the potential for destiny. * * * * The trouble with dissatisfaction Is that it has no remedy. * * * * Natural selection creates Every sort of mutation Upon this mysterious garden. Why, how, the scientists try to discern, But knowledge ever disguises its own limitations, And true ignorance is layered with endless coats of vanity. * * * * Craving does not hold a candle to bliss. * * * * Your awareness is the infinite ocean And the senses are the waves crashing Upon the bounded shores of time’s illusion. * * * * How wrapped up we are in our space-time dreams. As if their duration and scope were eternally significant. As if a brief swirl of silt is any more important than any other. * * * * Girls become their mothers And boys their fathers Often enough to applaud the exceptions. * * * * The moonlight upon the water Is as genuine a reflection As the moon itself. * * * * Your responsibility To this world or any other Is entirely up to you. * * * * The words of oracles Are the inner voice To which each has access If they pay close enough attention. * * * * Rules in philosophical questing? As ridiculous as any in a knife fight. * * * * Let time iron out the details. * * * * In cyberspace they may be great warriors. But in life they are often slothful, fat and lazy. * * * * Men hypnotically stare In desire-ridden genetic lust, While the objects of their attention, With practiced nonchalance, Pretend not to notice. * * * * Dream bubbles press against one another, Interacting, witnessing each other’s dream states, Yet every calculation is ever a projection Of one’s conceptual equation. All are imagined reveries And all ultimately pop Into the oblivion Of eternity’s Timeless reality. * * * * Sexual fantasies play such a role In all we have created. Our lives are truly orchestrated By the ebb and flow of the genetic structure. * * * * Dream the cave, or dream outside it To discern the dreamer is the commonality To which few have the fated capacity to explore. * * * * So many attaching so much importance To their individual and collective dreaming That they cannot grasp losing the investment. * * * * To climb any hill Requires coming down it. With every rise, a fall is inevitable. * * * * It is an ever-changing dream Of an elemental functioning Prior to any conscious perception. * * * * Taking nothing personally Is an error of perception To which we all succumb. * * * * Waves or particles. Both or neither? * * * * Nor mirage can sustain a reckoning point for long. * * * * You allowed the world to bind you in its illusory prison, And it is you who must discern the key To unlocking eternity within. * * * * A watery mirage Beckons your thirst, Yet never gives you more Than the desolate sands Of unquenchable time. * * * * Only a fool would try so hard To explain the inexplicable. * * * * In true peace, you no longer exist. * * * * You will conduct yourself in accordance With the internal rules of your own making, But what of those rare few whose beliefs Have dissipated into the eternal mists? Who be they who reside lightly within? * * * * What a lie the sense of identity is. We all deceive ourselves So completely. * * * * Where is a mind free of passion? * * * * Questions of a thousand dreams, Answers never what it seems. * * * * Pure mind, pure heart. The thunder of no-mind, no-heart. * * * * Odds are you cannot recall your birth, And you know as little of your death. Abide in the stillpoint of ignorance. * * * * How simple it all was When you never worried About losing everything. * * * * What makes one thing sacred, and another not? All judgment is arbitrary. * * * * The essential is nothing to take personally. * * * * Each day builds itself. * * * * The play of words is all so meaningless, don’t you think? Absurd echoes drifting through this silly little play of time. * * * * Infinitely absurd, that’s surely what it is, it is, But it’s better than being alone, One supposes. In a very dark room With no furniture, that is. Nor even a floor for that matter. After all, what is the majestic abyss, But the eternal nada, forever and a day. * * * * A good sense of ironic humor is the best salvation. * * * * Close the book of law, And there is no point From which to judge * * * * May be better not to be out in public today. May be a bit beastly. * * * * The only real solution to all your worries Is death. Either literally or figuratively. * * * * Your choice. * * * * Make it a transcending day, eh what. * * * * You may care, But does the universe? Does your imaginary little friend, God, Truly care? * * * * The majesty of the infinite absoluteness Is well beyond your most galactic premise. * * * * It does not matter Why How When Where These words were written, Or by whom. That they were written Is the unceasing order of the day. * * * * A manifesto of divine origin. * * * * Babblewocky. * * * * No order known. * * * * Transcend your murky, plebian, parochial little world, And see the infinite, pounding pulse of each and every moment. You are the witness born to envision the totality Of what you really are. * * * * To cloak your Self is paramount, For there are but few Who will jointly comprehend The chameleon nature all forms play. * * * * The blind see only the dazzling play of changing light, Missing entirely the clarity of awareness Behind their deluded eye. * * * * You have co-created this spontaneous dream, Yet have so little influence in how it unfolds As to say you have virtually none at all. * * * * The course is set, And none may reconvene the crew To chart another. * * * * Your world is truly a private affair. * * * * Herein is given to that which has no name, But to which the course of all time sings. The song of godness knows no other. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Stillness Before Time (Compendium) © Michael J. Holshouser 2009 World Rights Reserved