Chapter 219 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)

CCXIX

You do not really know who or what you are.
Any explanation chokes on its own limitation.

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Freedom is the last choice.

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Value is created through attachment to experience,
And the imagined identity that experiences.

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Token remedies will not appease or avert
The inevitable clash of mind and nature.

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Comprehend what is said here.
Do not tailor these words or their scribe
To your own vain self-serving ends.

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It is so simple.
The christs and buddhas
Could be a part of the everyday scene,
You among them.

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If a garden comes from you it is one thing.
But if it is out of obligation or vanity,
Recognize it meaninglessness.

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If you cannot trust your Self,
Who can you trust?

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Notice how so many insist
Their attachments real and true.
Then try examining your own inanities.

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What do you judge but your own creation?

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Do not allow your mythos to so badly intimidate you
That you cannot even look through your fear.

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The bubble of this dream
Is of such tenuous making.

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Your mind is a nuclear reactor,
Imagination the fusion.

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Merging into your spirit is not a competition.
Who is there, really, to compete against?

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Be alone amid the many.

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How can you not grow weary of hell?

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You are the only one.

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You think you need sight to see,
Sound to hear, taste to savor,
Scent to smell, and touch to feel,
But does the you you really are need anything?

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If we wish to change the world,
Everyone must change.
Impossible?
Only because we choose not to.
Every action or inaction is born of choice.

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In untrammeled awareness all conditioning is dissolved
Until the desire for conscious movement reawakens,
Time begins, and you once again sit, walk or run
Within the habitual ruts of your personal world.

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Conscious awareness of awareness in time
Transcends the bestial nature of manifest existence.
A statement not of morality, but of non-dualistic fact.

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Space expands into one form or another.
And there you are.
Try not to take it too personal.

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How difficult for each of us
To release the many investments
We have manufactured in this dreamtime.
For most only physical death
Will pull them from the clutches
Of the mind’s infinite pool of delusion.

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Personality is an outcome of separation
Birthed of imagination, nothing more, nothing less.
Is any wave ever separate from the vast ocean
Or the shore upon which it vainly crashes?

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Civilization, culture, is cultivated
By those who cannot face their aloneness.

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The self-made knowledge of humanity
Is the key to both bondage and liberation.

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When seen for what it is,
This manifest world of time and space
Offers nothing but a mirage of false hope and vain glory,
Impoverishing riches, meaningless knowledge and inevitable suffering.
Only in the momentary realization of one’s ultimate nature
Does it have any real meaning whatsoever,
And even that is as insignificant
As anything else.

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Your perfection is
Without any effort on your part.

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From the beginning your essential state
Has never been any different than a fleck of dust

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All that learning takes only an instant to unlearn.

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More than enough, perhaps too much,
Has been said of the spiritual quest through the ages.
The delusional divisive vanity surrounding and permeating it,
The dogmas, temples, money-changers and pharisees,
Are vain burdens you must eventually shrug off
To discover and walk freely in the garden.

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Over and over, much the same thing is said here and elsewhere:
Oneness is waiting for you, the earnest seeker,
To find your Self and be free.

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Time rules now with such thought-filled passion.

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The wealthy, famous and powerful
Still lose everything despite all their clinging.

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Your ideas of god are only ideas
Until reality beyond concept
Is discerned to be you
As it has ever been.

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Putter with no goal in mind.

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Whatever I am, you are as well.

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Life migrates in every direction
Exploring every imaginable diversity,
Yet to humans they are merely annoying pests
Or sacrifices to the worship of mammon.

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Where is the wonder, the awe, the reverence
For this mystery unfolding within you beingness?

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To the confused these are more words
Which only confound them further.

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You cannot help those hell bent,
Nor stop those seeking heaven.

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Within the human sea of delusion,
There will always be the rare few
Who awaken to their eternal nature
As spring flowers do the morning sun.

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It is human nature to battle over nothing.

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To the same fate so many ways.

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Wisdom is merely the predictability of the unpredictable.

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You get what you get.
Make the best of it.

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For words we destroy Eden.

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Jesus, what now?

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Be as dust.

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It is the nothing in us
Which longs so
For existence to be real.

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What you have to teach,
Not many are willing to hear.

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Wishful thinking does not for solutions make.

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The beast will fall of its own greed.

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Everything grows old ever young.

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Try caring.
Try not caring.

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We often suffer for our limitations.
Some call them lessons or trials.
They are a bother nonetheless.

* * * *
To think there is only one son of god
Denies your own role, and that of every other.

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Aimless wandering is not correlated to boredom.

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Every mask and costume ever worn
Has fallen off again and again,
The mind reincarnating each,
Ever remembering and forgetting
Within the vast cycles of time and space.
It changes timelessly even as you are reading this,
Never even attempting to be anything but whatever it ever is,
Except in a mind you continuously fool yourself into calling your own.

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Science has proved
The more concepts we create,
The more confined by logic we become.

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Do you think about the food you eat
Once it is sliding quietly down the throat,
Soon to transform into your consciousness?

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Imagine every form possible
And each individuated awareness
Of this indisputably indivisible moment.
Unfathomable.

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Honor your parents and ancestors.
They are the gateway to knowing
Your indivisible spontaneous origin.

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What a blessing to discern the surrender
Required to be born again into your eternal nature.

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All those magical mystical experiences
Only distract you with their enticing light shows.

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The real you is all form in formlessness.
You have been birthed times beyond number,
Yet all birth and death have ever been only imagined
By the playful mystery of the dreamy patterns.
The real you is prior to all consciousness,
Prior to all suffering, all concoctions,
All the creations ever fathomed in time.

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Humanity’s territorial needs
Do not match its breeding practices.

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Is there a morality that is not self-righteous?

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The king you seek to check and mate
Is your Self.

* * * *
These words are pregnant with subtle implication.

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Disbelieve everything
You have ever been told or told yourself.
Nothing invented by any form caught in the bounds of time
Stands through more than a blink of eternity.

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Eternity casts no claims upon you.
That is your own choosing.

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The coldness of the universe
Longs for the warmth of your bones.

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Everything has its time and place.
The trick is finding it without to much effort.

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The academic scholarly pursuit of this intuitive realization
Often ends up being like voluntarily putting on a straight-jacket.

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A teacher’s role is to add a little water and fertilizer,
And make sure none are getting deprived of sunlight by the others.
Then to practice non-interference while the garden grows.

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These words are for those
Who have the courage to be free.

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In its own special way,
Gravity is pulling you home.

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All the world can ever offer is a temporary show.
It will never give that which your being truly longs for,
That which you have ever been, yet can never see or know.

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You need not wait to own what these incomplete words imply.
It is not be as difficult as so many would have you believe.

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Let go your many attachments.
Your name and fame, your power and gold,
Your piles of possessions, your nearest and dearest,
The countless claims of the mind and body.
In detachment you may then discern
A freedom prior to all dreams.

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We are all just echoes in each others’ heads.

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Whether you consciously discern it or not,
All your promises and commitments made in time
Eventually fall the way of eternity’s timeless sovereignty.

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Herein you are shown the way
As envisioned by one whose vision
Has gradually unfolded into the unmanifest
That he might share the insight with the many others
Who would also be free in the spirit of oneness.

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Why would you create a god
Which does not include you?

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How responsible is anyone
To the reflections of other lives?

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What would you do with your life
If you were without human companionship
For the rest of your days?

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Long after the human species goes extinct,
The diverse inertia of the life force of Eden
Will play out the changing nature of illusion
As it did long before this brief history of time.

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Religions are the outcome of great loneliness.

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It was all created to be destroyed.
One cannot be without the other.
Only you in the most eternal sense
Will ever be as you have ever been.

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Again and again and again you are reborn in every form
With no memory of the countless dreams arisen before.
Ever you struggle to remember that nature most true,
Yet the paradox of time’s illusion is that you forget
That which you sought the moment it is found.

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Each rides a wheel of suffering spun of a limited mindscape.
To halt the rolling requires a discerning surrender
To that which reside at the wheel’s center,
That which is the causeless cause prior to all attributes.

* * * *
As long as you keep seeking happiness,
You will find only the suffering duality brings.
How many insist upon it their entire life.

* * * *
The fires of passion
Slowly burn out.
And then what is left?
Is it anything more than dust
Playing out one vanity or another?

* * * *
Mastery of life is learning
How to let go of it.


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