CLXIX
What point to creating a big pile of gold
If you’re not going to spend some of it?
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Retire young while you’ve got the body to do something.
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Could an entity so many call god every really be truth,
Or would it be just another limitation to move beyond?
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Anything can be said many ways.
The trick is finding an optimum point.
Sometimes easy, sometimes not.
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What’s really worth getting angry about?
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Seeking outward approval from any form,
Even from a conceptualized god,
Is a vain dead end.
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Each of us attempts to figure out something
That will gratify our inner yearning for happiness.
Only a few are so dissatisfied with mortal fare
That they seek total reunion to the point
Of complete and utter annihilation.
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It is all merely the ever-changing of consciousness
Playing its Self out before the many senses.
But you, the actual you, the witness,
The essence prior all attributes,
Every thing and no thing,
Is ever untouched.
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A personal collection of observations,
To which you inherit only empty words.
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As long as you participate on the stage of time,
You will ever be tempted by the lightshow’s
Unending onslaught upon the senses.
But it is a steadfast determination
To abide in the essential aspect
Which will keep you balanced
Upon the tightrope which you stride.
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It has never really been your personal show.
It is not really you as an individual identity
Who has made any of this come about.
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Who do you truly care about but your own self-image?
How much compassion have you conferred on
The crippled alien upon the distant Eden
Going round the farthest star?
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Birth, death, and the so-called life between
Are all temporary figments of imagination.
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A wave rolls in and crashes into oblivion.
What exactly is there to attach to?
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The ignorance of fanaticism is a thick fog
Through which no morning sun can burn.
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Just beginning…again.
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How’s that for change?
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Your god is as temporary as you,
And will, in fact, die the same death.
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It seemed real at the time.
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Don’t buy it.
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Who decides right and wrong?
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Have yet to meet a label that doesn’t fit,
Including devil and god.
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Pshaww!
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Go to where knowledge cannot.
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You … We … are all That I Am.
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You have been mesmerized by a lot of pap.
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Your are simply the continuity
Of a long line of seeds.
None are inviolable.
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Discern Self, the eye of god.
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Another fine mess god has gotten us into.
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One for all and all for one.
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All this is happening to consciousness, not you.
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You will not comprehend the meaning of these words
Until you are ready to examine consciousness itself.
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Just because you can
Doesn’t mean you should.
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It is a dream you can never really touch.
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How much havoc your desire to be alive creates.
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When there is no other,
Yet appear to be so many,
Is an issue not easily resolved.
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Suffering cannot end
As long as there is any expectation
From this temporal, foolish play of consciousness.
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You cannot stop hate with hate,
But then again,
Love isn’t always the answer, either.
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Any organization is the synergy of its parts.
Management sets the tone,
And its people create the process.
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Consciousness is about chasing its own tail.
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To see clearly that you are but a figment of imagination
Requires a detachment few have the irony to attain.
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Science is an incomplete god.
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The innocent cannot fathom evil
Until they attain it for themselves.
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You cannot lead what won’t follow.
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At some point you must get up and wander on.
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A very simple message
Repeated again and again
To a crowd unwilling to listen.
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Do nine things right,
And the tenth wrong…
Which one will they remember?
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The solution is somewhere between love and hate.
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History has a way of making things happen quickly.
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History is a very personal relationship with illusion.
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If you see it, you see it.
If you can’t, you can’t.
There’s no persuasion between.
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Every moment is very simple,
And responding to each simply
Is an amazingly simple irony.
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Time has a way of passing
No matter where you are
Or what you’re doing.
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You can’t find what isn’t there to find.
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A personal god is the creation of imagination.
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How attached we are to geography.
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Another night at the movies.
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Outside or inside,
It is the same.
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Making claims of sole knowledge is rather absurd.
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About god, many know much.
About truth, many know very little.
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The field of relativity is absolute.
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Nothing is as nothing does.
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Realize that no one will ever
See the universe the same as you,
And in that epiphany, discern the tolerance
To respect the countless differences.
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The best thing since toilet paper.
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You can’t measure nothing.
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It doesn’t have to make sense.
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Through the eyes of madmen and jesters,
Truth is discerned.
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Who is it who quests freedom?
It is when the questioner evaporates.
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A rather curious, unresolvable play.
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Knowledge is the lie born of ignorance.
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Consciousness is movement,
The result of the desire to become.
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If you cannot question everything,
You will never see everything.
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Mind is creation.
Mind is destruction.
Mind is everything.
Mind is nothing.
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If not for the patternings of desire,
What would continue?
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Your longing for completion
Cannot be touched by consciousness.
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Will you read into these words your own projection?
Or will you discern that which is truly meant?
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Sandcastles all.
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How much of your inner balance
Hinges upon your projection
Of what others think?
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You are the stillness of the absolute unicity
Witnessing an illusory light show.
* * * *
You have unwittingly created this prison
And only you can discern the key
To the freedom you are.
* * * *
The reality of self-made knowledge
Is a zero-sum proposition.
* * * *
You are the fallen angel returning home.
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Despite what any given followers say,
Their game is not the way to salvation.
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All that you think you know
Is of so little consequence
Outside this manifest theater.
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Take no credit for this spontaneous surreal dream.
Its eternal nature is both prior and beyond
Any willful time-bound delusions.
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Without you to describe it,
Could any of it have ever been?
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You have confused your Self with the word.
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You, the seeker, are that which you seek,
But must penetrate Maya with insight
To discern your ultimate non-identity.
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Smoke can looks so busy.
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Each of us is a universe.
Bubbles in a jacuzzi.
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There’s always nothing to think about.
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Delusion is blindly believing
Imagination supercedes reality.
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In god we jest.
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All religion is vanity.
* * * *
How can anyone imagine a god
Of which they are not a part?
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The warrior conquers,
The gardener tames.
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How can one ever be free
If the senses dominate the mind?
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It’s all so laughable.
A sense of mirth is the best tonic
For life’s suffering.
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If you can’t laugh at god,
Where’s the freedom?
* * * *
You have confused your Self with all the words.
* * * *
You, the seeker, are that which you seek,
But must penetrate Maya with insight
To discern your ultimate identity.
* * * *
In this manifest theater,
Perfection is consciously attained
Through one’s inner vision.
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No matter
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Your true vocation
Is whatever interests you most
Right now.
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Awaken, eat, talk, walk, run, work and sleep
In oneness.
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Watch how you revere your creation.
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If this eternal insight
Is dynamic in even just one,
It is potential in all.
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To the farthest reaches of infinity,
You are.
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Your life is an opportunity
To merge consciously
Into eternal union.
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How many concepts are just mental masturbation.
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You will do whatever life calls you to do.
Fate is a rather strange play of illusion.
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The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)
© Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World Rights Reserved