04 October 2009

Chapter 211 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)

CCXI

By its very nature,
Imagination can never be anything
But the play of time.

* * * *
Your beingness
Is no more or less
Than that of a midge.

* * * *
Gold’s gold no matter
The form born of time.

* * * *
Without desire,
The mind as you know it,
Would not exist.

* * * *
Free will is born of the magic.
It is the maze of an imagined reign,
A delusion birthed of light and shadow,
And the play of choice it inspires.

* * * *
Harsh times ahead, you say?
Ahh, but truly they always have been,
Have they not?

* * * *
Until you are the burning bush,
It is all the arrogance of delusion.

* * * *
All the wealth, power and fame known to mankind
Cannot for a moment attain even an iota of eternity.

* * * *
Discern the bliss of no other.

* * * *
Language is both the prison
And the key to the unlocking
Of you your ultimate nature.

* * * *
The mind suspended in awareness.
Is one with the infinity prior to all creation.

* * * *
You are your worst enemy
Until you become your best friend.

* * * *
Respect.
So easily given, so easily lost.

* * * *
If you believe calling yourself a Christian
Makes you a Christ, guess again.

* * * *
The young are so easily mislead.

* * * *
The challenge of any given life
Is comprehending the world
Without succumbing to it.

* * * *
Now is the only time you will have
To make peace with your soul.

* * * *
Until you are timelessly at ease
With the beingness of nothingness,
Consciousness will entice you
Back into the winds of time.

* * * *
What can spaciousness be identified with?
Where can duality reside in its timeless nature?
All exists only when there is the movement of imagination.

* * * *
Why should anyone be compelled
By another’s shoulds and shouldn’ts?

* * * *
What remembers who you are?
Is it real?

* * * *
Of consciousness, it can be said,
There is truly nothing to be saved.

* * * *
You will never witness your own face and body,
Only the reflections others cast back
Into your imagination.

* * * *
The snobbish pay a dear price for their caste creation.

* * * *
Magical exercises are no more than parlor games.
Maya is maya no matter the distracting dream.

* * * *
You are the ultimate extrapolation
Prior to all concept.

* * * *
Are we even more blind to the garden than our ancestors?

* * * *
Our loins compel us so surely
That we have lost all sense
Of where it must surely lead.
Do lemmings see any less clearly?

* * * *
Those who discern the seed
Discern its immaculate origin.

* * * *
It is astounding how a harmless statement
Can be misconstrued into a dogmatic assertion.

* * * *
Like the reed bending to the force of the wind,
Relinquish the imaginary self to the eternal nature.

* * * *
The only difference
Between youth and age
Is the amount of baggage.

* * * *
It’s about freedom,
Not new forms of bondage.

* * * *
From stillness, everything.

* * * *
Who would not prefer to have a body
That knew only the passions and pleasures
Of a clear mind, perfect health, and idyllic vibrancy,
Without the stormy clouds of injury or illness.
That, fortunately or unfortunately, is not
What this little play of time is about.

* * * *
The meek inherit
Only death and rebirth
Within their time-bound vision.

* * * *
Each of us seems driven to play out life in one way or another.
All questions as to why can never be answered adequately.
Wonder is the only state of mind to which any inquiry can lead.

* * * *
To discern the stillness within
Is to know the essential nature
Of all things great and small.

* * * *
New paradigms arise from the ashes
Of those whose play in time is done.

* * * *
Practice is an “any given moment” kind of thing.

* * * *
You are a patterned set of particles interacting in such a way
As to incarnate into a conscious, ever-changing, exclusive form.
But in truth, all the while you are the eternal, infinite nature.
Individuality is the illusion born of sensory awareness
Creating the resulting dream of time and space.
And as to why these inexplicable particles
Have come to be, is a timeless query
Far too finite for any answer.

* * * *
Death is merely the evaporation of apparent individuality,
The restoration to the eternal indivisibility of all origins.

* * * *
Become one, become all.

* * * *
Acceptance is born of the mind’s desire for continuity,
Doubt, the discernment of the absurdity of the notion.

* * * *
How little room we have left ourselves to maneuver gracefully.
We have created all these problems, all these horrors,
And the only way at all feasible to solve them
Is to discern, and shift, into a paradigm
In which all history and personal want is set aside.

* * * *
An unlikely proposition, at best.

* * * *
The content of persona changes throughout life.
Its parameters are bounded only by the inner vision.
The most expansive context imaginable in any dimension
Is the union beyond all thought of a personal nature,
The transformation into that which is absolute.

* * * *
All notions of good and evil
Will always be merely notions.

* * * *
The dream of godness is you.

* * * *
Eternal life means timeless living.
A deathless experiencing of beingness
Wandering about in manifest form.

* * * *
Challenging to discern,
Much less do in the daily now.

* * * *
How blessed are those whose parents
Do not burden them with false beginnings.

* * * *
These words are a snowball in time
Written by one who discerned
He need not remain
A fallen angel.

* * * *
If humanity is ever to tack into the Way,
It must happen of its own free will,
Of the volition without motive.

* * * *
Ha, ha, good joke, boy.
You make me laugh plenty.

* * * *
Discern it
In whatever manner you will,
It all rounds out into one.

* * * *
Limited thoughts limit the impact
Of even the most profound nature.

* * * *
Forget yourself,
Remember your Self.
Then forget that, too.

* * * *
Few see this,
Fewer still act upon it,
Fewer still act upon it no more.

* * * *
Is there anything more vexing
Than a friendly, loyal opponent.

* * * *
What a shifting wind human love can be.

* * * *
No problem is insoluble
Once it is understood
All are imagined.

* * * *
Say to yourself,
“I am the Way, the Truth, and the Light,”
Until it becomes obvious.

* * * *
The aimless ones know what words cannot tell.

* * * *
Mammon is a pacifier
For those satisfied with suckling,
Undistracted by doubt.

* * * *
Contentment is not a commodity.
It is not product of time or circumstance.
It is easily lost when treated as one.

* * * *
If your contentment requires approval
From any imagined other,
You are not.

* * * *
You will play a part until the whole fills it.

* * * *
You imagine all your obligations, giving them weight
Based on the complex interweaving of desire and fear.

* * * *
All identification begins with the conditioning
Of the geography in which you have been raised.
Few move beyond the parochial nature of their origin,
Much less discern they were never truly born.

* * * *
You never know who will wake up,
Or what will precipitate the awakening.
But, rest assured, you are not the only one.

* * * *
We are all pretending.

* * * *
The many others will be only too happy
To tell you what you should do,
But what do you,
Without them, really want?

* * * *
The vast conspiracy, unconscious and rather droll,
Seems to be about keeping the masses from awakening
To a greater revelation of beingness and meaning.

* * * *
All the world’s a stage,
And you are but witness
To one version of the play.

* * * *
These writings are for those who long for a freedom
Seemingly so difficult to attain, and in yet in the same moment
As eternally simple and present as the next breath.

* * * *
You are so incessantly busy,
But what are you really doing?

* * * *
How impossible to describe sight to the blind.

* * * *
There can be an arrogance in humility,
And a humility in arrogance.

* * * *
Leave it to irony to discern every absurdity.

* * * *
Eden lies souly within your own vision.

* * * *
Enlightenment is not bound by imagined timelines.

* * * *
Any given life is conditioned
In the mix of ignorance and wisdom
By which it is surrounded.

* * * *
You are the instrument through which the void manifests.

* * * *
The senses are the temporal gates
Through which light’s illusion filters.

* * * *
There have been many seers come before you,
And many more shall no doubt follow after,
But all have wandered the pathless
In the same solitary manner.
An immortal brotherhood,
Discerning the same eternal vision.

* * * *
No one can lead you to this but your Self.
Others at best can only point to the way they discern,
Yet language alone is incapable of igniting any other’s awakening.
The quest within is for each seeker to reckon alone.

* * * *
Those who are not prepared
May well go mad.

* * * *
Every limitation to which you cling
Is your own imagined creation.

* * * *
Even the so-called masters,
Familiar as they are with the mystical territory,
Must sustain the exacting attention
Of any beginner.

* * * *
To have eternal life is not
An after physical death experience.
It is the timeless, passing now as experienced
By the mind divested of inner limits.

* * * *
For want of equals,
Genius often stands alone.

* * * *
Do not to burden your mind
With all you may or may not have done.
History is intellectually and emotionally absorbing,
But ultimately does not really matter.

* * * *
Suffer, baby, suffer.
It hones the blade.

* * * *
Any thought of separations but one
Of the near infinite faces of vanity.

* * * *
Standing before the raging bull,
It’s not easy to resist waving the red cape.
Calculating the harsher consequences of any given action
Can mean the difference between life and death.

* * * *
No one really knows you
Unless they know Self.


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