Chapter 107 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)


CVII

How will you serve with your given time?

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Thanks for your support.

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Is it conspiracy at much as mindset?

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What presumption.

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Keep your nose on your own face.

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My oh my, another day so quickly bye.

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To look at nothing in particular
Is to see the everything in all.

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How many, how few truly appropriate
The course their lives have taken?

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Look without desire, see without fear.
Learn without holding, know without grasping.

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What makes one set of moments
More important than another?

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Have you spent your short life
Worrying about way too many things?

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Got better things to do than sit around
Listening to pretend-to-know-it-all people
Who don’t really know any more than I do.

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Rather curious
How some chemical combinations are legal,
And others, often much less harmful, are not.
Tis an insane world run by vested interests.

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History will soon forget you.

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If you don’t have it in your garage,
It’s probably in your head.

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Never quite understand
Who people think they’re following.

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We all seek our own level of mediocrity.

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Consciousness roughs up everything.

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Time passes impervious to even
The most resolute challenges.

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Nothing to hide,
Nothing to pretend,
Nothing to defend,
Nothing to borrow,
Nothing to lend,
Nothing to protect,
Nothing to contend.

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All is Om.
Om is all.

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The irony is beyond measurement.

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You are as pure as the driven snow
Smashed into tire-blackened slush.

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Only the mind born of time is finite.

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Surrender to the fact.
Plug into the silence of it all.

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As long as there is an other,
There will be contention.

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Got no commitment to time
Other than surviving mine.

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Why am I with you?
Because I never met myself before.

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Life is a game, and those who play
Win by their own rules.

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The passerby saunters aimlessly along
Observing his/her image in the many windows.
What is window shopping all about, anyway?

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Churches are all about numbers.

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If you live it, you won’t have to say it.

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Creation and destruction are the same thing.

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Think about it before you jerk your knee.

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Once you’re dead, it isn’t going to matter when.

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Trying to talk others into seeing it your way...
What a joke.

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Ignorance is the winner.
Stupid people breed more.

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Fates are such strange things.

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How purifying detachment.

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Subtlety is lost upon ignorance

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There must surely be an answer in the yellow pages
In the phone booth along the Yellow Brick Road.

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If you cannot understand the ground,
How can you ever hope to win any battles,
Much less an entire campaign or war?

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Nothing can insure victory
If there is inattention, sloth or arrogance.

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Models of virtue are so easily toppled.

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What range personalities have
In their adaptive synergies.

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The seed of creation are hedged
By equally capable and determined
Flames of destruction.

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Logic is logic, no matter the route taken.

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Virtue is its own reward.

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Some things bear repeating.

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What is this doubt?

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How extraordinarily ordinary.

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So easily whispered, so easily forgotten.

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The nets of god are tattered by the knives of hell.

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Tell me it ain’t so, and I will say,
“Look again, closer, friend.”

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Consciousness is the maker of all games.

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Play till the curtain falls and the stage is struck.

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Look out into the stars
Until you can discern your own eye.

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S/he did it again.

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Pawns are blessed with little importance.
Kings, queens and their many minions
Are deluded by the echoes of history.

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Hope is the grasping straw of fear.

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Life is so predictable, but for all the changes.

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Everyone is missing the fucking pointlessness.

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From earth, wind, water and fire,
The understanding that all things
Change in their own due course.

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All over the world, lots of soap operas,
Lots of dull stories made into soap operas.

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Never shop for food when you’re hungry.
Never shop for a mattress when you’re nap-ish.

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At or with, a laugh’s a laugh.

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So many so close, yet so far
From discerning a free reality.

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Amazing what comes to pass
When you surrender your sail
To the passing wind of another.
So many experiences you would
Never have adventured otherwise.

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Sometimes you wonder when it will end.
Other times you realize you will miss it so.

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It’s all illusion, not just the parts you don’t like.

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So many way to addict to illusion.

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Pandora’s Box was opened long ago.

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To all of you who need to hear this:
Get over it.

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Ahh, again and again, the insanity of vanity.

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So many out of balance,
So many spinning in orbits
Beyond hope of recovery.

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Some see how it is to be another
And become compassionate.
Other merely intolerant and cruel.

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Death is just consciousness
Slipping back into the ground.

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What, pray tell, are you holding onto?

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How sweet the oblivion of personal experience.

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Dissipate now.

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Which catastrophe will it be today?

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A wind without a wake.

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Pride taints everything and everyone,
But for the most detached discernment.

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Is that so?

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Aladdin’s Lamp, Pandora’s Box.
What do they mean, anyway?

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You can’t measure what really counts.

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Why do you ask?

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How full the empty moment.

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So quickly it passes,
But for the traces of memory,
As if it never happened.

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This moment of peace was brought to you
By a quiet, desireless, fearless, detached mind.

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Keep the slate empty.

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This moment is brought to you by your Self.

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Humility comes cheap.

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Remind yourself how little say
You have in anything.
Real choice is an illusion.

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The “great adjustment” is an inevitable when, not if.

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Wisdom is something of a loner sport.

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The trouble with so many things
Is you just cannot start over.

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Nothing done,
Nothing left undone.

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It’s all about process.
Once you understand that clearly,
Everything unfolds into its rhyme and reason,
Whether you stream with it or resist it,
You will have to deal with it.

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Who were the first to think about such things?

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You need not take another’s fate as your own.

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All fates are comprised upon one fact.
The same moment transports all.

* * * *
Another night of aphoristic indulgence.

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Call it, call me, call anything whatever you please.
Names matter to those who do not understand.

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Wisdom comes from not needing to do it all anymore.

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What tragedy will the news bring this day?

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Eden drifts like smoke, unaware of its essential nature.
Only consciousness intuits the glimmer of the illusive truth,
And even that bit of awareness must be called fallacy.

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Discover your Self.
It doesn’t matter if anyone else does.

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What is fame but a bunch of people
Finding out a bit more about your delusion.
What’s the big deal?

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Nursing a cigar, you ponder the smoke
And wonder at its simplicity.

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There is no quest, there is no path,
There is naught but the illusion
That existence is somehow real.

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What is not vain in the human mind?

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So much to unlearn,
Instantaneous as it may be.

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Illusion is as illusion does.

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Could by expect more or less from any other way?

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Any groupthink is ultimately founded
Upon one flawed assumption or another.

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Nothing really matters.

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Remember to forget until you forget to remember.

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No need to be shy about the truth of the real you.


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