14 April 2013

Chapter 155 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)


CLV

You are truly that which was never born,
Born again and again and again,
In every form imaginable.

* * * *
The chance of an eye blink.

* * * *
Time is like that.

* * * *
You are Creator … Preserver … Destroyer.

* * * *
Any given name will do.

* * * *
Driven by a force
You can only dimly comprehend,
You dance on throughout the muddy playground.

* * * *
What a luxury to sit fearless.

* * * *
Without history we might be what we really are.

* * * *
You already have so much.
Why do you always need more?

* * * *
They are watching back.

* * * *
A lesson long forgotten.

* * * *
We all need at least two or three vices.

* * * *
The nice thing about sports versus war
Is that most of the bodies walk off the field.

* * * *
The good die young.
The bad die old.

* * * *
Born to play that role,
Your were, you were.

* * * *
What be your Sisyphean stone?

* * * *
Was that fifteen minutes really worth it?

* * * *
The simple life ain’t.

* * * *
2Duzing away.

* * * *
Another day of spam.

* * * *
What a strange thing is to reside in a mind.

* * * *
Just another temporarily absorbing anthropological event.

* * * *
Death passes as does every other twinkling.
Whether or not there’s anything more
After the body’s in the field,
Only time knows.

* * * *
Why be concerned?

* * * *
In stillness, all seams blend into the fabric.

* * * *
Funny how we call revenge justice.

* * * *
Why be concerned
About imagined past lives
Or the future of any to come?
This moment, born of awareness,
Is the point of reckoning of all hence.
This one is where the wheel of suffering
Touches the way upon which all travel.

* * * *
You have been trained to fear so that you perform better
For those who enslave you in whatever way you allow.

* * * *
Once you doubt, there is no going back.

* * * *
The aptitude to prioritize in a balanced whole-view manner
Requires a discipline, an organizational capacity.
So many operate like leaves in a wind.

* * * *
You are the nameless functioning.

* * * *
All the eyes ever manifested
Have been the same witness.

* * * *
To really understand who Christ or Buddha were
Is to know they were you in a different form.

* * * *
No edifice can withstand the termites
Who patiently gnaw at its foundation.

* * * *
Each container perceives its own universe.
All are compatible because all are illusions.

* * * *
Of the few who think about these things,
Many torture themselves on fabricated ideals.

* * * *
Though the trinkets and adornments
May be cast and re-cast again and again,
The gold ever remains the same.

* * * *
Whoops.

* * * *
Sorry about that.

* * * *
In a sideways, inside-out, sort of convoluted
Backwards, upside-down, topsy-turvy way.

* * * *
Can you really prove you even exist?

* * * *
Consciousness
Is merely the crashing waves
And the surface swells.
The true journey
Is into that
In which
All separation ends.

* * * *
The fools laugh, the proud mock,
And the humble grow very still.

* * * *
Can you hear
The gnashing of the worms
Thirsting for your soil?

* * * *
What can anyone do
But what consciousness allows?

* * * *
Do not allow life’s many options to stymie you.
There is just enough time for you to finish your brief fate.
And what you don’t complete, what you don’t experience, someone else will.
No one can more than sample a small morsel of the potential.
Be content that you had any role to play at all.

* * * *
What authority does any have
But what you give them?

* * * *
None can hear what they are not ready to hear.
None can see what they are not ready to see.

* * * *
Meditation is allowing the field to lie fallow.

* * * *
Though the whole world
May acclaim you, laugh at you, or scorn you,
What does any of it truly matter?

* * * *
Wash away the lines of time
Until only clarity remains.

* * * *
To the universal mind
Are drawn those most rare
Who are without choice.

* * * *
What some call way out there is home.

* * * *
To even see your arrogance
Is the first step toward humility.

* * * *
Godness is not a concept.

* * * *
To truly be at peace with others,
You must be so with your Self.

* * * *
All seams are sewn of delusion.

* * * *
Where did you go now?

* * * *
Forget who you think you are.

* * * *
It only seems real
Because we agree it so.

* * * *
When time stops existing within,
Where are you?

* * * *
Look closely at any division,
And you will find the line
Resides only in your mind.

* * * *
Few of the many
Have the capacity
To discern the one.

* * * *
Call it whatever you will,
There is only the dynamic process,
The infinite functioning of a mystery far too vast
To ever be more than joined in mind.

* * * *
You will never be
Any closer to godness
Than you already are.

* * * *
The theater is the space.
The actor is the time.

* * * *
It’s all a state of mind.

* * * *
The busy mind is a full teacup
With no room for emptiness.

* * * *
You are this that.

* * * *
The boundary between me and you,
Is only flesh and bones.

* * * *
Be Self
Untaught, unformed, unclaimed,
Un everything.

* * * *
You are a child of the “I Am.”

* * * *
Of what use is any thing
Without the space
Which creates its form?

* * * *
A full head is no match for a clear one.

* * * *
Who are you?
Who asks?
Who says?

* * * *
Some arrive home
Through singular intent,
Others through eclectic odyssey.
Some without any rhyme or reason whatsoever.
So many ways to discern the unfathomable.

* * * *
Wear the inside of your face for awhile.

* * * *
The I Am is the black hole of all concept.

* * * *
Keep your feet on the ground
And your mind in totality.

* * * *
It is a mystery of which you are part.

* * * *
The fountain of youth,
The gold at the rainbow’s end,
Or the attempt to attain godlike powers,
All are the vanity of consciousness
Dreaming continuity real.

* * * *
What an interesting thing
That you would expect another
To do what you cannot
Or will not do.

* * * *
All logic, all rational thinking,
Must eventually be overwhelmed
By its mysterious, incomprehensible origin.

* * * *
What is the point
Of all this spiritual wordplay
If you do not heal the schism within.

* * * *
Walk, run, stand, lie, sit or dance in whatever manner you will,
Your eternal nature is untouched, unburdened by the play of light.
All the pains and pleasures concocted of thought are transient
No matter how zealously you wish them true or permanent.

* * * *
Cause and effect are the intertwining of time and space,
Of the ironic perception that there is truly something happening
In the ephemeral here and now of every moment’s unknowable passing.

* * * *
All children are innocent of any wrongdoing
Because good and evil do not exist
In the untarnished state.

* * * *
No parent can ever provide a completely safe haven for any child.
Any given life experiences the bittersweetness of existence
Once a seed of this mystery is unleashed into fate.

* * * *
Passion unleashes the Pandora’s Box of consciousness.

* * * *
Attachment to concepts
Is at the root of the matter.
None have any ultimate nature,
Yet the great significance given them
Is the unceasing cause and effect
Of the mind’s vanity in time.

* * * *
You are the one.

* * * *
There’s not much scarier
Than someone with charisma
And an agenda.

* * * *
Be sure to learn the difference
Between love and lust, romance and reality,
And idealism and fact.

* * * *
The novelty eventually wears off anything.

* * * *
Watch the changing.
Your are the changing.

* * * *
As long as there is any life anywhere, anytime,
You will exist.

* * * *
Part of luck is being ready
To take advantage of a good wind.

* * * *
Another memory just out of reach.

* * * *
An aimless way.

* * * *
It’s not your problem
That most people
Don’t want to hear truth
Unless they make it a problem.

* * * *
It’s a one-time thing.

* * * *
No matter how you judge them,
They were all innocent at one time.

* * * *
Consciousness is the movement
And original nature the stillness.

* * * *
Find the one within the other
And within the other no other.

* * * *
Those who see they are godness create heaven.
Those who seek to become god create hell.

* * * *
Will humanity ever discern its Self?
An experiment not yet complete.

* * * *
To call it good, to call it bad,
Is to have pretty much overlooked
The reality of the reality to be discerned.


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