25 August 2013

Chapter 113 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)


CXIII

This is what you have done with your life.

* * * *
How else would godness know itself,
But through you?

* * * *
Suffer no delusions.

* * * *
The strains of life need not mark you.

* * * *
Only in consciousness
Can duality pretend to exist.

* * * *
The pressures to become something are fierce.
What do they inspire but added misery
To an already difficult situation.

* * * *
You just got it back.

* * * *
Remember,
Despite what you read here or anywhere else,
That it doesn’t really matter.

* * * *
How can a doctor
Help heal a patient
Determined to be ill?
Patient, heal thy Self.

* * * *
Positive thinking
Tends to accept and embrace
A great deal of delusion.

* * * *
Who are you imitating now?

* * * *
No name, no concept attaches
But through the glue of your mind.

* * * *
We are a species deathly afraid of not being.

* * * *
Others can hold your hand,
But you must take the pain alone.

* * * *
This moment, too, will fall
Through the sieve of memory.

* * * *
You really only need to please yourself.

* * * *
At some point, why should you allow
Anyone to define or restrict you?

* * * *
Whoever created time was the first historian.

* * * *
What do you want to do with your life,
Your dreamtime, your sojourn, your path
Through this misty three-dimensional mystery?

* * * *
Explode into the ocean of your being,
The wind of your eternal nature,
The fire of your true Soul.

* * * *
The book that never was.

* * * *
Pass what you will to your children.
They will pay their own price for the die we have cast.
Big fucking crap game, don’t you think?

* * * *
As an infant the senses had no meaning.
Only in time’s passing did an order gradually arise
As the environmental pattern was sponged into personality
By choiceless inclinations of your genetic predisposition.
Do you really believe your personal view is any more
Than an ancillary outcome of random circumstance
And the collective delusions of consciousness?

* * * *
When it becomes obvious this world of dreams
Must eventually, as all change must, be forsaken.
How challenging it is to, in one way or another,
Participate in whatever way fate dictates.

* * * *
What is consciousness but the awareness
That every act creates a ripple which impacts others.
It is not obligation, but consideration which creates angels.

* * * *
The concept is not the thing,
But what is the thing without the concept?

* * * *
We all seems irreversibly drawn
To one passing inclination or another.
The choices involved are quite choiceless.
Were you to truly attempt changing the pattern,
It would probably prove all but impossible.
Most changes are relatively superficial
And really only amount to resistance.

* * * *
Don’t battle your Self.

* * * *
Why these aphorisms, each so unique,
Keep bubbling forth unsought is a mystery.
What impact, if any, they might have is for a time
These eyes will only view through those yet to come.

* * * *
The wings of angels tickle your soul
To awaken to eternal life.

* * * *
It is silence that is golden.

* * * *
Cast yourself adrift in the abyss of your mind.

* * * *
Root out that which causes your pain.

* * * *
The analogies may change,
But truth is ever the same.

* * * *
The eternally damned
Have nothing to fear
But their own imagination.

* * * *
We exist in collusive fantasy.
An acting of godness impervious
To our apparent mortality
Drifting in a time
Which has never existed.

* * * *
Why fear any god?
It is your own creation.

* * * *
How long will one hand support another?

* * * *
A still mind travels the moment.

* * * *
Will you embrace life,
Or that which was never born?
Or, perhaps, if you can walk the paradox,
You will manage an affair with both.

* * * *
No one leads until there are those willing to follow.

* * * *
So many have so much, yet only want more.
What did it finally take for greedy Midas
To wish away his golden touch?

* * * *
Just because everyone else is doing something
Is not a good reason.

* * * *
Imagine all that human pride has wrought.

* * * *
Through you all things come to pass.

* * * *
If you cannot be your own best friend
And lover, who else will want to be?

* * * *
Seek the diamond at the core of your beingness,
The true worth of the dream’s golden nature.

* * * *
If you think yourself invisible, you are.

* * * *
So many Christians have missed completely
What the man they profess to emulate
Was truly trying to point out.

* * * *
Have you always felt life are
Something of an alien here?

* * * *
Waves wash away all writings
Without thought or concern.
Each breath the same.

* * * *
How does anyone know anything
But through their own choosing?

* * * *
What do you hope for,
But that your delusions are real?

* * * *
How lonely one can feel
In the midst of any given crowd.
Discerning the aloneness at the source
Is both difficult to remember and easy to forget.

* * * *
What makes you think human babble
Has any more significance than
That of any other creature?

* * * *
Western industrial, technological, scientific thinking
Has infected the rest of the world to such a degree
That the result can only be disaster and mayhem.

* * * *
All you really need to be told
At any given point of your time
Is that you are That I Am.
The rest is academic.

* * * *
All your attachments boil down
To the imaginary concoctions
Of a few trillion brain cells.

* * * *
It is all the naming which creates
The you, you happen believe real.

* * * *
Whatever you think
Of anyone or anything
Is only an imaginary idea.
It can never be what is.

* * * *
Personal identity is the delusion.

* * * *
What do you finally learn from pain
But that you probably don’t need
To do whatever caused it again.

* * * *
How many faces
Have you not had?
You are the everything,
Nothing less, nothing more.
So simple, so simple.

* * * *
All pride eventually falls
For it can only be sustained
By the vain delusions of the body.

* * * *
Unless there was some other life
You would rather have lived, why
Would you do this to yourself again?

* * * *
How incredible life is.
How amazing that we endlessly
Seem to insist on creating more sorrow
Than existence already requires.

* * * *
When creation and destruction
Are each moment’s passing,
How can you ever assume
You were ever truly born?

* * * *
No person, place, thing or idea is godless.
It is impossible in the oneness of all.

* * * *
Haven’t you always been watching?

* * * *
A successful life is finding contentment in your own.

* * * *
Relax, you’ll be silent soon enough.

* * * *
Do our personalities carve our features,
Or the features shape the personality?

* * * *
How beautiful, how horrifying,
So many things are in this
Mystery world of dreams.

* * * *
Why do you continue to bind
Yourself in this field of dreams?
What entices you again and again
Into the habit you call thinking?

* * * *
Patience is a device worth cultivating.

* * * *
Your dream has always been.
What other dream could possibly be?

* * * *
Just think, none of this is really happening.
It is you own convictions which burden you.

* * * *
The dross is burned by clarity.

* * * *
A dream is a dream
No matter the dream.

* * * *
How is this happening?
A fool’s question if ever there was one.

* * * *
Am I the devil, or are you?
Perhaps we all are until
We return to the grace of godness.

* * * *
The only conclusion, no matter
When or where your origin,
Is we are all That I Am.

* * * *
This world will obviously never be perfect,
But must we flaw it so with our avarice?

* * * *
Duality requires the stream of consciousness.
When thoughts are stilled, all separations,
All polarities, all fictions of imagination
Cease to play their time-bound realities.
The drama humanity is playing, simply put,
Is the product of this straight-forward correlation,
A function of the mind-body gone astray in time’s play.

* * * *
Godness blows up the balloon, and pop!
There form goes, and where are you
But where you were all along.

* * * *
Is it a question that is the statement,
Or a statement which is a question?

* * * *
So-called evil is merely self-absorption
Ignorance, denial, greed, eternal death.

* * * *
Go forth and explore this world you have created
Until you see what there really is to be seen.

* * * *
What else but vanity
Would believe vanity
Has any continuity?

* * * *
Activists are full of self-satisfied righteousness,
Irrespective of the futility of all  result
In the ebb and tide of the changing nature.

* * * *
Time is filled by one thing or another.

* * * *
So many concoctions stewing in the same brew.

* * * *
By their nature, dreams are ever ethereal,
Like clouds, rivers and waves
Never be fooled by even those appearing solid.

* * * *
Idealists must eventually absolve themselves
Of responsibility for that which they cannot change.

* * * *
Different mountain,
Same clayness.

* * * *
Dancing with illusion.

* * * *
Is superstition an inherent feature
Locked into the genetic structure?

* * * *
What do you really have
But a mind full of memories?

* * * *
If you hadn’t been conditioned
To believe in heavens and hells,
Would you concoct them yourself?

* * * *
The depths cannot be plumbed.
They are infinitely small, infinitely large,
Beyond all mortal comprehension or conclusion.


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