CXVIII
More of
the same.
* * * *
How we
love to beat dead horses.
* * * *
He had
something to say
But too
few were interested.
* * * *
What a
relief to release the obligation to care.
* * * *
What is
good, what is not good?
Eyes of
the beholders all see
What
they choose to see,
And in
that reality they often
Find so
many ways to disagree.
* * * *
So many
charging fees for that
Which
is free to all for all time.
* * * *
Isn’t
life scary enough for you
Without
the countless contrivances
Concocted
by unreigned imagination?
* * * *
Even if
you could have
Everything,
anything
You
needed, wanted,
Would
you be happy?
Would
you be content?
* * * *
What is
done even well will ever be undone.
The
changing is the ever-reflecting nature,
The
ever-changing truth of this reality.
* * * *
The
peace you idealize
Comes
when you reject that
Which
worldly existence conjures.
It is
the heaven-sent repast
To
which all are invited
But few
truly seek.
* * * *
For the
lack of better wording,
We call
it common sense,
But in
this world’s confusion,
It does
not seem all that common.
* * * *
There
are no stairways to heaven,
But
there is a deep elevator to hell.
* * * *
What a
challenge not to tell another
What to
say, think or do.
* * * *
Slaving
for the man,
You
wonder why.
* * * *
To own
godness you must release the concept of god.
The god
you project will ever be a product of limitation.
* * * *
It is
much easier to condemn than it is to understand.
* * * *
Use
your pain to question deeply.
* * * *
A drop
can never be an ocean,
Yet the
ocean cannot exist
Without
every single drop.
It is
the mystery of all mystery.
* * * *
Mystics
are aimless wanderers
Without
origin or conclusion.
* * * *
How
many ways will we argue it
Before
we see it is all the same?
* * * *
In this
mystic seeing,
All are
rich and impoverished
Within
the same breath.
* * * *
Any
other can only perceive
Your
mask and its projected behavior.
You are
probably only rarely what others think.
* * * *
What’s
the difference
Between
possessing
And being
possessed?
* * * *
The
Stillness Before Time
Brought
to you by you.
* * * *
How can
you win an argument
With
someone caught in ignorance?
* * * *
Does
god really strike bargains,
Play
favorites, or answer prayers?
You get
what you perceive.
It’s all
or nothing.
* * * *
To
observe attentively without wanting,
Without
collecting or pursuing,
That is
the groove.
* * * *
It is
the mother of all mothers,
The
father of all fathers,
Giver
and taker of all creation.
* * * *
How
many different faces each of us display
In the
many circumstances of our daily living.
* * * *
Sometimes
you don’t even know what you mean.
* * * *
Consciousness
can only exist in time.
* * * *
Too
hot, too cold … whine, whine, whine.
A world
of pea-under-the-mattress whiners.
* * * *
You
play in the sandbox
Until
you decide it’s time to go home.
* * * *
Balance
is.
What’s
your worry.
* * * *
Every
creature dreams a different dream.
Why
should you be attached to any?
Including,
of course, your own.
* * * *
Anyone
who is anti the Christ
Created
by western religions
Is the
antichrist they dread.
And
there are many of us.
* * * *
True
words have always seemed the opposite
To the
literal-minded bound in ignorance.
* * * *
You are
not I, you are you.
Break
the boundaries.
Discern
the chaos of all.
.
* * * *
Solve a
problem before it becomes one.
* * * *
The
bottom feeders
Feed
upon whatever drifts down.
The
take what the winners of the game choose.
* * * *
The
cycles of anger can only be broken
Through
detached determination.
Its
ceaseless feeding frenzy
Will
otherwise never be resolved.
Co-existence
is a paradigm beyond self.
* * * *
All
speculations, all reasonings, all vain notions
Are
fanciful dusty fabrications without real meaning.
You
are, and when that is viewed clearly, it is enough.
* * * *
By the
chances of genetic lottery,
You
partake the existence of this particular form.
How to
play it is full of choices played out
On the
field of choiceless design.
* * * *
The end
of the story will have no readership.
It is
the irony of the author’s joke upon its Self.
* * * *
What
would you do if, suddenly,
You
could not remember?
* * * *
You
tell me you value life,
And I
wonder how many types of poison
Are
under your kitchen sink.
* * * *
The
mind in its linear nature ever seeks a truth which is tangible.
The
irony is that that which is immeasurable, infinitely timeless,
Cannot
be encapsulated within the meager boundaries of time.
The
intangible will never, can never be more than it already is.
* * * *
If your
truth is tangible,
It is
the delusion of idolatry.
* * * *
It may
seem hardcore and resolute
But
that’s the way this umpire is calling it.
If I’m
wrong, oh well and no big deal.
* * * *
Mindsets
and universes come and go,
Founded
upon one delusion or another,
Dreams
all within the context of oneness.
* * * *
Miscellaneous
thoughts for miscellaneous minds
Delving
into oneness in so many ways the same.
* * * *
Patterns
run deep.
* * * *
Even
the humble screw is necessary
To keep
the most vital machine afloat.
* * * *
Dust is
dust no matter its form,
No
matter the pointless reasonings
Of
finite nature rationalizing its context.
There
is naught but one for those perceiving
The
indivisible reality beyond all the appearances
Of the
time-bound kaleidoscoping play of light and shadow.
* * * *
World
weariness is born of the gradual realization
That
you cannot really change anything or anybody,
That
you have no real choice in the matter, whatsoever.
It’s a
stage you can muddle past if it is your destiny to see.
* * * *
Why are
you doing this?
The
sunny river rock beckons.
* * * *
You are
omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient.
* * * *
The
craving for recognition is is shallow fodder.
* * * *
How
many decisions does a lifetime entail?
* * * *
Life
imitates concept.
* * * *
Ethical
codes are easy to assert,
But
challenging to maintain.
* * * *
All
that individualized self-hood
Is the
unending fiction of imagination.
It is
an island on which each suffers alone.
* * * *
The
rules of the game are not negotiable.
* * * *
Cuteness
wears thin
If it’s
not got substance
To keep
it funded.
* * * *
All
things arise from obscurity
With
the utterance of the first word.
* * * *
Self-imagery
is as ever-changing as the wind.
* * * *
Even
moderation can be an extreme.
* * * *
There
is still time.
* * * *
Sweetness
can quickly sour,
And
sourness is perhaps sweet
To that
you have yet to consider.
* * * *
It will
always be now sometime.
* * * *
The
river meanders from the spring trickle
To the
ocean’s great pulsing depths.
The
drop, caught in the sweeping
Currents
far beyond its control,
Is
beckoned by clouds yet to come.
All
ever now at every point of the journey.
* * * *
From
each moment flowers a new reckoning,
Ever
fresh until soiled by mind’s conceptions.
* * * *
Without
your traditions you are nothing.
With
them you are nothing deluded.
* * * *
It is
your resistance and craving which creates time.
* * * *
The
mirage molds dust into time,
Into
the you imagination breeds.
* * * *
Your
craving casts your suffering.
* * * *
You’ve
perceived the world through your own eyes.
But how
would it be to view yourself through
All the
eyes that have seen you?
* * * *
It
finally boils down to there being
Little
need to think about it at all.
* * * *
Eternal
salvation is simply having the fate
To
discern that time does not exist as the mind insists,
That
this delusion is no more than an illusion,
Touchy-feely-real
as it may appear.
* * * *
To end
all your problems, you must perceive clearly
That
your craving creates them again and again.
Discerning
and returning to inner stillness
Is the
discipline of the adamant seeker.
* * * *
All
your life others have reflected: do this,
Don’t
do that, believe one thing or another.
How
challenging to discern reality for oneself
Amid the
roaring waves of cause and effect.
* * * *
How far
will we as a species take it?
Have we
really even seen anything yet?
* * * *
So many
saying it’s this or that.
All you
need reply is, “Is that so?”
* * * *
All
your dualities are unreal delusion
Concocted
in imagination’s
Dream
of time.
* * * *
God’s
theater is an infinite repertoire,
All one
none the less.
* * * *
Declare
yourself to be one thing,
How
often you find it to be another.
To be
nothing inwardly, undeclared
In that
private space most eternal,
Is the
freedom at journey’s end.
* * * *
So many
demons to ignore.
* * * *
Death
negates all pride.
* * * *
Why
should you ever fear that which you are?
* * * *
A
declaration of independence.
* * * *
It is
the inward journey which envisions
The
infinity beyond the farthest shores.
* * * *
Fairness
garners many visions.
* * * *
Perhaps
the end has already passed,
And the
beginning never began.
* * * *
The
shortest views are of identity,
The
longest are of the indivisible infinity
Which
comes to rest clearly within.
One
cannot truly know Self.
One can
only be it.
* * * *
The
river is you.
* * * *
Your
resistance is the level
Of
attachment to your delusion.
* * * *
It is
the death worth seeking.
* * * *
Buddhas
and christs are passe
To the narcissistic
pleasure seekers.
* * * *
What’s
never born yet is forever?
That
which is inconceivable?
* * * *
These
many thoughts would not be written
If it
were not the truth as these eyes discern it.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)
© Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World Rights Reserved