04 October 2009

Chapter 204 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)

CCIV

The sea of consciousness drowns many souls.

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So many stages in a life well-lived.

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The nothing in everything.

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Woe unto the actor who believes the part real.

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The earth is but a sphere of imagination.

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Hard to shake a perception once the rut is set.

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Only the lonely feel sorry
For those who aren’t.

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Follow where words lead
Only if they match
Your intuitive rightness.

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Be wary of those
Asking too much of you.
There are many ways the demons
Leash unsuspecting souls
In this vain world.

* * * *
It is not these many words
That will take you to heaven or hell,
But your understanding,
Or lack of it.

* * * *
To go completely mad, you need no other.

* * * *
So many, some intentionally, some in ignorance,
Seek to create one conspiracy or another
To confound those who truly seek to know godness.
Do not be swayed into the denial of your intuitive intelligence.

* * * *
No outer infringement
Can keep you from being free inwardly
Without your volition.

* * * *
So many insist on suffering for reasons beyond counting.
Blame it on karma or spontaneous ignorance,
Pain is ever imagined again and again.
Unnecessarily, inattentively so.

* * * *
So many praise god for their blessings,
Or blame the devil for their troubles,
Yet never seem to comprehend
It is the witnessing within
Whom they thank or curse.

* * * *
To give any word sacred weight
Is the vain road of spiritual correctness,
The lever with which parasitic forces
Gain entry with dogmatic virtue.
The truly sacred requires
No false reverence.

* * * *
That’s easy.
The answer is there is no answer.

* * * *
To call it the unborn
Implies the reader’s understanding
Of physics, chemistry, and the sciences in general,
Wherein the building blocks upon which all creation is founded
Are the vapor of eternity playing out ceaseless formation.
Science is ultimately a mystical inquiry into reality.

* * * *
Originators would never get very far
If they waited for the masses to catch on.

* * * *
Once death no longer intimidates,
What is there to hold any one back?

* * * *
A life blindfolded
By the veil of illusion
Is a hellish journey.

* * * *
Doubt is the lever that binds all.

* * * *
Life as it is known becomes a surreal show
To those awakened to that prior to all veils.

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If ever there is to be an age of virtue in the human unfolding,
It will not be without a great and passionate struggle
Between what is true and what is false.

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There is no fury like pride unfurled.

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Do not assume all human beings
Will ever discern the ultimate reality.
As the chaff is not the kernel,
True beingness may not
Be the destiny of all.

* * * *
What most call religion sounds much like children
Exclaiming “It’s mine!” or “I’m right!”
There are no exclusions,
Despite the fact
That few are born to see.

* * * *
There is but one way,
But its interpretations are as many
As the minds within which consciousness dwells.

* * * *
The separation is strong in many.

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The abyss is a wanderful state.

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Making problems where there need be none.

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The therapy of Self.

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Do what you feel called to do,
But try to be relatively harmless,
If possible.

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Balance can be challenging.

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What is true,
And what is not true,
Who but you can discern it?

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Eternal salvation is the outcome
Of a personal inquiry
Into the impersonal nature.

* * * *
The deaf will never hear
What you are truly saying.

* * * *
Just passing through another daying.

* * * *
A child has no concept of time
Because it has not invented it yet.

* * * *
The turmoil of this world
Is the synergistic reflection
Of the human psyche.

* * * *
Why we idealize peace
With so little real interest in manifesting it
Is the irony of ironies.

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If your seed survives
At the expense of others,
What is the point?

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The only thing making a day good or bad
Is that willy-nilly gauge called comfort.

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What other creature on this planet,
Or possibly even the entire universe,
Creates time to play out their existence?

* * * *
God is a comfortable invention,
An imaginary friend created
To avoid feeling alone.

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The evolution of the human mind,
Though founded upon instinctual drives,
Has increasingly lost the connection with Eden
That all other creature unconsciously know.

* * * *
Life is a marathon best played out
Through the ebb and flow of moderation,
There are times to sprint, times to sit,
And an even saunter will get you
Wherever you need to be.

* * * *
Most do not understand
That the hell of which scriptures speak
Is this world as we continue to synergistically create it.
How simple it would be to change everything.

* * * *
Belief systems, myths, traditions, rituals, mores, and folklore
Are a group’s means of maintaining a common dream,
It is the way of the mind in its ceaseless quest
For security, comfort and pleasure.

* * * *
The form in which you abide
Has never been the same,
And will eventually fall off.
The real you prior to any cover
Was never born, and will never die.

* * * *
Nothing need come of any of these thoughts.
It is an amusing, pleasurable, therapeutic means
To meander through space-time’s imaginary weaving.

* * * *
Not all who wander are lost.

* * * *
Lucifer is really god’s most trusted ally.

* * * *
What will you do for money?
What won’t you do for money?

* * * *
What is the difference between a cult,
And an established organized religion?
Time.

* * * *
The big bang is just dust
Being swept every which way
Within the ever-expanding theater
Of the great spirit’s infinite imagination.

* * * *
You are privy to nothingness.

* * * *
We all come from the same smoky heritage.

* * * *
Corporations so mighty
As to make empires of old
Seem as paupers.

* * * *
Profanity is a common excuse
To never open a dictionary.

* * * *
The body is the shrine of the Soul’s existence.

* * * *
How much easier to submit
To an organized point of view
Than to think for your Self.

* * * *
Any maxim is only as powerful
As the insight into its subtlety.

* * * *
The essential you, the oneness that pervades all,
Has been, and will ever be the eternal source of every potential.
The personal you, however, is an imaginary concoction,
Destined to the ever-changing dissolution
To which all form must surrender.

* * * *
What were you
Before the spin of the universe
Knitted you into being?

* * * *
Is it not rather eerie to exist in a world
That writers and directors once upon a time
Projected from their imagination?

* * * *
What can consciousness ever possess
But of dream of its own complexion?

* * * *
The mystery is a blatantly obvious reality
To which almost all are deaf, dumb and blind.

* * * *
You are defined by the limits
Of what you know,
What you do not know,
And what you can never know.

* * * *
Stare death in the eye.
It is in every now
You have every known.

* * * *
You seek out the dream you value most.

* * * *
Few wander far from their comfort zone.

* * * *
Mausoleums are full of heroic figures
Whose ambitious dust mingles formlessly
With those who fought their vain wars,
Built their self-absorbed monuments,
And supported their temporal empires.

* * * *
What ecstasy does not eventually beget agony,
And what agony does not strive for ecstasy?

* * * *
The mind is a waving flag.

* * * *
Those who can stand alone
Don’t create imaginary friends.

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So full of imagination,
Few can see clearly now.

* * * *
Try to forget for a few moments,
At least occasionally,
Who you think you are.

* * * *
Believing in anything is more than a little silly.

* * * *
A concept beyond the horizon today
Is often adopted by the masses tomorrow.

* * * *
When you are empty of yourself,
There is room for transcendence.

* * * *
Good parenting is protecting a child
Until they can be responsible for themselves.

* * * *
Life is too ephemeral to believe anything for long.

* * * *
Organized religion is a prison
Wherein unenlightened middlemen
Quench your hunger and thirst for truth
With idolatry and limited thinking.

* * * *
Another day to which arbitrary names and numbers are ascribed.

* * * *
So many allow middlemen sway over their lives
Because they dare not fathom the depths alone.

* * * *
Just about guaranteed
It isn’t any thing
You imagine it to be.

* * * *
The madness you own
Is the one you alone have sewn,
A dreaming no one else has ever known.

* * * *
A glimpse of the future
Is but a projection
Of an imagined past.

* * * *
How inane to bother about that
Over which you have no choice whatsoever.

* * * *
The advantage
Any given generation
Has over history
Is anonymity.

* * * *
Rejoice all the things you will never know
That would cloud the mind even more so.

* * * *
Thief, rogue, demon, saint, samaritan, angel,
What difference, really?

* * * *
To follow any one path forever
Is like climbing a ladder
Never really intending to arrive.

* * * *
Most recognize only the mask and costume,
Never discerning the essence is the same for all.

* * * *
Why is it you want another to desire you?
Does their want somehow magnify
What you could at any point
Create for your Self?


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