CLXIII
For the part to discern the whole,
It must see its own connected wholeness.
Without a greater vision than oneself,
There is only temporal confusion.
* * * *
Only a deep discernment
Of the underlying form
Will even the keel.
* * * *
The scribe is just another messenger,
One of the many who have said over and over
In so many ways that you are truly that which is
godness.
There is no point in killing or worshipping him.
This time, just try to understand.
* * * *
You do not have to be a statistician
To know you are riding a bell curve.
* * * *
There are no followers, only groupies.
* * * *
We declared war on Mother Nature long ago,
Not realizing that we will one day find ourselves
surrounded.
Custer’s odds were much better in his last stand.
* * * *
Do you foster a busy schedule
To avoid the anguish of loneliness?
* * * *
When god is placed “out there” somewhere,
There is no shortage of middlemen
Interested in your soul
And the pocketbook attached.
* * * *
There’s no point to arguing with someone about
their limitations.
* * * *
There are always more questions,
But genuine answers
Are like shadows and rainbows.
* * * *
Sensory craving is about as satisfying
As scrambling on your belly after mirages.
Even if you conceive they offer no salvation,
You continue reaching out to each and every one
In the inane dream some ironically call a
spiritual quest.
* * * *
Do not be afraid
To let go of this temporal world.
You cannot in truth die.
The body is mulch
In the flames of illusion.
* * * *
You keep searching for gold in this world or any
other,
But again and again everything crumbles into
dust.
* * * *
What doe it all mean?
Why does it have to mean anything?
* * * *
Every living creature must act to survive,
And then deal with the ramifications as they
unfold.
* * * *
What action can any really claim as their own?
* * * *
“They” are the ones you don’t see,
The ones beyond your horizon,
Outside the zone of control.
The ones who control you
In ways disinclined
To ever heed your will.
* * * *
You are the face of the faceless nature.
* * * *
Your enjoyment of it not withstanding,
The primary point of sexuality is reproduction.
The incessant craving for its pleasure
Suits your DNA quite well.
* * * *
Higher purpose is a quaint notion.
* * * *
To and fro, the dream goes,
It never stops, and ever flows.
* * * *
What would it be to never imagine death or birth
again?
* * * *
Discern that aspect of godness
Which permeates every fiber of your being,
You are the church of beingness.
* * * *
If you are looking for a conspiracy, you will
probably find one.
Though ignorance, pride, avarice and stupidity
Are the more likely culprits.
* * * *
The pride of being a seer is the last surrender.
* * * *
It’s taking things personally
Which snares you time and time again.
* * * *
The loss of innocence is the price of
sophistication.
* * * *
As long as you suppose any of this is your doing,
You will suffer in ways only you can imagine.
All suffering is born of the identification
With the senses and the theater
In which they participate.
* * * *
Calendars and lists are means, not ends.
* * * *
Who shapes you into what you are not?
* * * *
Beloved is as beloved does.
* * * *
Look to your own way.
* * * *
The mind is a blade that cuts deeply
Until the illusion of time is mastered.
* * * *
Nothingness is the gift.
* * * *
What day is any more spiritual than any other?
* * * *
The clay jar is the space it occupies.
* * * *
No other is required to tell you that which is
truth.
* * * *
The twists and turns of fate
Are many and unpredictable.
* * * *
Either everything is sacred,
Or nothing is.
* * * *
The nada in me is the nada in you,
And despite what we think,
It’s more than a zoo.
* * * *
Death is just an energy dispersal.
* * * *
Despite what the many others tell you,
There’s nothing to prove.
* * * *
Don’t allow another’s discontent to rile you.
* * * *
So many people wanting to be
One saint, prophet, mystic or another,
Yet have no inkling what they really were.
Imitation is not the means.
* * * *
Is it what they want from you,
Or what you want from them
That is most bothersome?
* * * *
No contest.
* * * *
Not necessarily a loss,
Not necessarily a gain.
Just the gray of time.
* * * *
The mirage
Of a woman’s face
Is enticingly bittersweet.
* * * *
In life some are specialists and others are
generalists.
Others are specialists generalizing or
generalists specializing.
Who can say with any certainty at all where a
life will lead?
* * * *
What is the point of existence but existence
itself?
It needs no rhyme or reason for it is the rhyme
and reason.
It is the witnessing.
* * * *
Unfulfilled dreams are the real nightmares.
* * * *
The embodiment of narcissistic futility.
* * * *
Buddha in a power-tied three-piece suit
Is the same Buddha in a tattered loin cloth.
* * * *
Security is a concept without a reality.
* * * *
Funny how so few see the obvious.
* * * *
What’s the point of growing old
If you can’t be young?
* * * *
Most things aren’t as one-dimensional
As so many make them out to be.
* * * *
Do ripples ever end?
* * * *
How far to take own freedom,
Without impeding another’s?
* * * *
Space, the final frontier.
* * * *
Just another player in an empty theater.
* * * *
So long, asshole.
* * * *
Goals are really never-ending processes.
From the creation of a simple cup of tea
To the destruction of an entire universe,
Every part and particle plays its position.
* * * *
Self-interest rules every life form.
* * * *
Liberation is being very still, very present.
* * * *
Until it’s no longer possible,
You will always pick yourself up
Dust off the suffering, wander home,
And begin anew the next day.
* * * *
Piss poor documentation,
Don’t you think?
* * * *
Cooperation is the highest form of self-interest.
* * * *
Manifest schemes ripple into history.
* * * *
The fountainhead
Radiates all bounty,
Manifests all direction,
Sustains all unto death.
* * * *
One falls.
Another rises
From the ashes.
The progeny of terra
Will sprout long beyond
The human phenomenon.
* * * *
What humanity finds annoying, it destroys.
What it finds pleasurable, it propagates.
* * * *
The martyr cries out for meaning and purpose.
* * * *
Only you can unbind your soul
From the chains of consciousness.
* * * *
Peace is really very simple.
If the mind is open and receptive
To the reverie of the senses,
There is nothing but.
* * * *
Another copy,
Another imitation,
Another counterfeit,
Another second-hander.
Originality requires courage.
* * * *
Hell is the same old thing
Over and over and over again.
* * * *
Change is sometimes quickly, other times slowly.
Only the nothingness of the canvas remains the
same.
* * * *
Are you that weak?
* * * *
Where exactly do you end,
And the other begin?
* * * *
Life is contrasts and the blur between.
* * * *
Continuity is only real in imagination.
* * * *
Nothing to become,
Everything to be.
* * * *
Death will be the end of the universe
As you know it.
* * * *
Nothing like a full-body shit to clear the mind.
* * * *
It all boils down
To simple awareness
And good breathing.
* * * *
The trick is to enjoy life
As much as pain will allow.
* * * *
We keep looking for intelligence across the
universe
When it’s debatable how much there really is at
this end.
* * * *
Give me hell if that idiot’s going to heaven.
* * * *
Always question either/or contentions.
* * * *
Detachment isn’t easy
Because you want to believe,
To imagine, to deceive yourself it real.
* * * *
It is whole,
And the biggest challenge
Is to remember it.
* * * *
Those who fear for their soul
Don’t even know what it is.
* * * *
You cannot find what’s not there to be found.
* * * *
Who pays attention to the silence
Echoing from the corners?
* * * *
You are all that is, all that is not
The space between, the space beyond.
All ways, forever.
* * * *
A transcendent moment
Is a transcendent moment
No matter the time and space,
Or the illusion.
* * * *
There is no enduring memory,
Only undifferentiated awareness
Playing out differentiation.
The ground requires
No cover.
* * * *
One who has nothing may be far wealthier
Than one who gorges incessantly.
State of mind is all.
* * * *
Any organized religion
Is an ongoing power struggle,
Often tedious and brutal in every way.
And rarely anything to do with real spirituality.
* * * *
Do not be confused.
It is all subjective.
It is all arbitrary.
* * * *
Be
Very Still.
* * * *
When does big become small; when does small
become big?
Cold,hot, or hot, cold? Light, dark, or dark, light?
Or right become wrong, or wrong, right?
Or anything, anything else?
State of mind is all.
*
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The
Stillness Before Time (Compendium)
©
Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World
Rights Reserved