Chapter 215 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)

CCXV

Everybody believing their universe so real.

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The pleasure button calleth.

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It is the idea of it you really crave.

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So, what does this vain
Omnipresent, potent, all-seeing god
(That you have created) really want from you?

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Why should you feel obligated
To play along with anyone's silliness?
(Including this wandering scribe’s).

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Having a quiet mind does not mean you are free.

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There is no need for religious identity
When you have recovered your original nature.

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No one has any right
To infringe upon your quest for sovereignty.

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Identity camouflages your essential nature.

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Maya will spin anything it can
To delude you into playing on its web.

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As a drunk is to drink,
You are addicted to the mind-body.

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You are an individual in mind only.

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When you are it, there is no center,
Only five senses functioning.
That there is a center is completely imagined.

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As much as older men
May want the younger babes,
There’s gonna be back trouble to pay.

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Whose idea of right and wrong
Do you subscribe to?

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If all your spirituality is based
On fear of punishment or craving for reward,
What you reap from all your ambitions
Will confound you even further.

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Nothing fulfills the puzzle.

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Can anyone or anything make you truly happy,
Or do they only distract you till they’re gone?

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Within every youthful stud
Is a withered, farting old geezer.
In every beauty, a dried-up crone of a hag.

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Prayer is just a self-absorbed excuse
To talk to yourself in a higher sense.

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To whom it concerns,
It’s all yours.

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Memory can be a great inconvenience.

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You walk among many ghosts.

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Depends on the day.

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Everywhere humanity seeks its original nature.
That so few find it is ignorance and misinformation.

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Get beyond the trap of words.
They and vivid imagination are the root of the problem.

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Imagination can be either blessing or curse.
A misdirected, undiscerning mind is a sojourn through hell.

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The unburdened are unconcerned with birth, life and death
They tread beyond the limits of concept.

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Serenity does not imply complacency.

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Who is born? Who dies?
The answer decries the suffering.

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Manifestation may ponder isness,
But isness tarries for nothing.

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"Why", you ask?
The impossible question.
Discern, instead, who has asked it.

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It takes a great deal of courage
To not want anything.

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Always return to the stillpoint.

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Who are you? What are you?
Where are you? When are you?
Why are you? How are you?
Amness answers all the above.

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Field notes from an observer.

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What most call love
Is merely clinging to comfort and security.

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What a prison self-imagery.

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A free ride dulls anyone.

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You are defined by your resistance.

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Relax and enjoy the day, the night.
There’s nothing to carpe.

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Moral of the story: Never record your crimes.

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All manifestation is sovereign, absolute.
Whatever you may do with it, respect its passing.

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Even if you sit regularly in meditation,
Without the edge of discernment
You will never be free.

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As long as there is a separate observer,
Objectivity is a meaningless concept.
The play of Maya is ever subjective.

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Denying any soul its process.
Only denies your own.

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When used to its potential, the mind becomes a flowering.
Most must practice discernment a great deal
To own the freedom implied.

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There is a mixture of audacity and humility
In surrender to the unmanifest.

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When the mind ceases to have limits,
That is liberation.

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How seriously you take yourself.
All that vanity for naught.

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The emperor had no clothes,
And neither, really, do you.

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As long as there is an observer,
Everything is subjective.

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Perhaps one of these days the faucet will turn off,
But one wonders if the mystery will allow it.

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Demanding or sweet as sugar,
Still they manipulate
As surely
As is their nature.

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A wolf amidst a flock
Tends to unnerve the sheep.

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Damage control often can’t.

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Why should you ever require
Another’s sanction?

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What a state of mind given no recourse.

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Your individual unity is indivisible.

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Your resistance, the walls to reality,
Is a hell of your own making.

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Allow the timeless
To melt like butter into your fabric.

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The gold you are cannot die.

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Love your Self.

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Love may participate in lust,
But lust alone is merely gratification
Of the mind's sensory cravings.

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Give over your desire and fear.
Allow the unmanifested the reigns of your being.

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Go into your imagination.
Turn it inside out and outside in.

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Why so many want to believe it all wonderful is a mystery.
Even an ostrich cannot plant its head as deeply in the sand.

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The undifferentiated state is not bound by manifestation.

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Your life is shaped
By whatever desires motivate your actions.

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We are all observers witnessing
Imagination’s countless concoctions.

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Funny how so many need others to masturbate them.

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What to do when life wanders into this mystical sense,
When just being is enough, and accumulation
Is less a factor than understanding.
And even that fades in time
Into an unconcern.

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Is it my imagination,
Or do salesmen all seem
To have the same predatorial smile?

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Passion.
She comes, she goes.
All in a dream, all in a dream.

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Such a thin band we reside in.

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Your urgency
Is in direct proportion
To your attachment.

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The desire for liberation at the core of your being
Burns away the dross of what is not.

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Every moment is pregnant with the song of godness.

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Duality creates illusionary choices.
When separation dissolves, choiceless awareness is.

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The trade-off for birth is death,
Ultimately illusions, but often painful nonetheless.

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All is perfection,
But you must vanquish fear of your own.

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Do not be a mindless sheep
Except in the highest sense.

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Do what you love to do
Until what you love to do is.

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Tolerate no ignorance within,
But practice patience without.

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What part do you most want to play?
Are you?

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Entertain doubts if you choose.
That is the continuing price of duality's delusion.

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Those not used to thinking get headaches
Or fall asleep when they ponder too much too long.

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The I Am is the essence that fulfills
The attributes of every container.

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Image is power, at least in this theater.

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I think I am
But am I a little I Am
Or a big I Am?

* * * *
Imagine yourself
Into the peace of godness.

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You want to be important,
Yet how can you ever really be
More important than anything else.

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What torture thought can inflict.

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Is the infant stillness either happy or sad?

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Self has woken to itself
In many ways since time immemorial.
This is just a current issue.

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Spread good karma.
What goes around gets around.

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Do not compromise your Self.

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If manifest time really existed,
We might be in real trouble.

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Inwardly strip yourself of everything.

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Merging into oneness
Is like being on a merry lifetime drunk.

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Why identify with time?

* * * *
What a sham, a lie you are.

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You see him practically every day in the media.
Why would you ever want to meet him?

* * * *
Where are we leading each other?

* * * *
One little ditty,
Two little ditties,
Three little ditties,
And more.

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Take care . . .
Wherever she takes you.

* * * *
Futile as all this is
Makes it kind of look like
You love a good beating.

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Nothing can touch you
But through your complicity.

* * * *
Unless you have great intellectual capacity and thirst,
The best way to read this sort of thing
Is a few at a time.

* * * *
Take early retirement.

* * * *
The dust swirls the senses
And leads you into every temptation.
God is such a rascal.


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