CXXII
These
thoughts are aimed at the heart of the matter.
Attached
to no tradition, no frame of reference,
They
are free of all time-bound assumptions.
* * * *
What
kind of god would god be
If you
were not witnessing it first hand?
* * * *
You are
a holograph.
* * * *
Does
godness have anything to do
With
the vanity of consciousness,
The
idolatry of vain personality,
The
many pretenses of free will,
Or is
it merely the grand witness
To the
mystery of all beingness?
Your
ignorance is ever confounding.
* * * *
No
matter how enlightened someone may be,
They
are still caught up in the quandary of living,
And
what to do about that annoying mosquito.
* * * *
Anything
less than all is idolatry.
* * * *
There
is a counter to every move,
And a
move to every counter.
Which
is effect and which is cause?
Both,
yet neither as you see it.
* * * *
How
tortured we can make the eternal passing of time.
One
moment is truly no different than any other,
Yet the
flux of the mind clings and resists
With
such passionate reasoning.
* * * *
You
deceive yourself in so many vain ways.
* * * *
One’s
creation is another’s destruction.
Every
frame of reference has its persuasion.
* * * *
Until
they let it all go, seers are burdened
Not
only with a personal view,
But
with the workings of total functioning.
* * * *
Be kind
to yourself.
There’s
no point to a mind
Imagining
so many vivid tortures.
* * * *
Approval
or disapproval,
Who
needs either?
* * * *
Inequality
is entirely the creation of the human mind.
* * * *
How far
past yourself can you see?
* * * *
Pretending
the emperor has new clothes
Is a
lie children need no play.
* * * *
How
difficult to see and move
Beyond
the habit of self-abuse.
* * * *
When
you meet the moment fully,
Your
destiny unfolds gracefully.
* * * *
So many
choices in any life,
And
which ones are embraced
Are the
seeds of the obituary.
* * * *
How can
you, why should you,
Save
what was never spent?
* * * *
You
suffer for your passion.
* * * *
There
are no followers
But
they who reside in Self.
* * * *
All
identity is a ruse of limited origin.
* * * *
Freedom
is the delusion of madness.
* * * *
There
is no serene harbor in the many differences.
* * * *
What
fare will the mortal stage today offer?
An
empty page, an empty canvas full of possibilities
On
which the drama of existence slowly unfolds.
* * * *
Logic?
Pray
tell, who’s logic?
* * * *
Godness,
in the infinite wisdom that godness is,
Decided
to experience infinite stupidity as well.
Such a harsh
joke the cosmos plays on its Self.
* * * *
How can
the faceless be attached to any mask
But
through the vain delusions of consciousness?
* * * *
What
would it be like to have an original thought?
* * * *
A
faceless by any other nameless
Would
be just as blameless
In all
the sameness.
* * * *
Muddy
minds do not wash pure instantly
But
through the greatest detachment.
* * * *
The
original sin is the belief
That
such a concept is real.
* * * *
If no
one notices you,
You
must be doing something right.
* * * *
That
stillness most sweet and unswerving,
The
immortal friend most humbly beloved,
Let it
burn you to the ashes of never more.
* * * *
Death
frees all.
* * * *
It
doesn’t have to make sense.
* * * *
Few
realize the uselessness of knowledge
In the
most profound picture imaginable.
* * * *
Never
burn a bridge unless absolutely necessary,
And
then only with the most expedient execution.
* * * *
Not
much point to being in a great rush.
* * * *
The
depth of all things is imaginary.
* * * *
Idolatry
is a tough one to see through.
* * * *
Many
fear that which they do not understand.
It’s
not easy daring to closely examine anything.
* * * *
Your
thoughts of separation
Can
never be more than delusion.
* * * *
No
thing can sate the hunger or slake the thirst.
Consciousness
amplifies the animal nature at the core,
And a
good deal of discernment and discipline
Is
required to temper the beast.
* * * *
See it
or not, we are all
The
divine tools of godness.
Only
some awaken to it.
Most
slumber on.
* * * *
That’s
what makes it one.
* * * *
Dragons
are immortal.
Immortals
are dragons.
* * * *
If you
listen very closely, intuitively,
You
will perhaps occasionally find things
Speak
to you in an unspoken fashion.
* * * *
Good
luck, bad luck,
Or
merely the fate of dust
Dancing
in time born of light,
The
lila of the imagined universe
And its
impromptu collusion of puppets
Biding
the strings of the grand puppeteer.
* * * *
Hell if
I know what’s going on here.
* * * *
Time
lapses when you are not.
* * * *
You are
the way you have been
Since your
first memories of it.
* * * *
It is
your own creation that frightens you,
Tempts
you, confuses you, enrages you,
Tortures
you, suffers you, pleases you.
* * * *
To
believe godness is only one thing or another,
Or only
that which subscribes to consciousness,
Is the
narrow vision, the blindness of ignorance.
* * * *
Perhaps
if the masses were not deceived from the start,
Their
godness would not be so difficult to intuitively grasp.
But,
then again, maybe it would make no difference at all.
* * * *
It’s
just one big fucking experiment.
We’re
all god’s guinea pigs.
* * * *
Explore
and harvest the infinite stillness,
The
inexplicable serenity of your true beingness,
The
domain in which the sovereign suckle.
* * * *
We are
all godness, and most of us
Are
very, very confused about it.
Why?
Why? Why? Why? Why
Cannot
people just accept
They
will never know?
* * * *
You
think, therefore you imagine you are.
* * * *
The
priceless soul is rare.
* * * *
My god,
your god, and everyone else’s, too.
* * * *
How
ironic that so many believe their color
Is so
much more than a melanin count.
* * * *
A
Christmas tree is dying to come home with you.
* * * *
Once
you see that you create all reactions within,
An
equanimity begins to seal the crevices.
Gradually,
it all comes together.
* * * *
To have
seen it untrammeled by the hand of man.
* * * *
Every
one wants to be secure, but that is impossible
The way
we behave so rudely to all the differences.
* * * *
Some
have no choice but to think for themselves.
* * * *
Here we
all are living out our distinct little dreams.
* * * *
Memory
is only as good as the synapses it inhabits.
Life is
short no matter how long it sometimes seems.
* * * *
Way to
many human beings.
What’s
the point?
* * * *
You’re
dying as you read this.
* * * *
Man’s
mind will never duplicate god’s.
Imitation
is always artificially second-rate.
* * * *
How
driven we are in our own accumulation,
Yet we
snicker at the pack rat or the raven
For
their meager collection of shiny baubles.
* * * *
Serve
the ground.
* * * *
Put to
the ultimate test,
What
advantage have brains
Ever
really earned without muscle?
* * * *
The
trails of our dreams intersect and weave
Into a
tapestry of consciousness which dissolves
So
quickly in the timeless expanses of eternity.
* * * *
Heaven
is a place where nothing ever happens.
* * * *
All
you’ve got to do is stop thinking.
* * * *
Can you
even remember yesterday sometimes?
* * * *
Some
walk away from their roots.
* * * *
Would
you have it any other way.
* * * *
You
were born to understand.
* * * *
Why
fight what cannot be?
What
resist what is inevitable?
* * * *
Always
on guard.
* * * *
When
did we become so embarrassed about our bodies?
* * * *
For a
moment, at least feign contentment.
* * * *
Who is
mad and who is sane?
* * * *
A
foregone conclusion plays itself out.
* * * *
How
quickly memories fade.
* * * *
The
swirl of insignificance continues.
* * * *
The
blank wall beckons your attention.
* * * *
Revenge
has a long memory.
* * * *
How
fickle and vain this god we create.
* * * *
Significance
fades as memory leaves it behind.
* * * *
Are you
foot or hand,
Head,
neck or shoulder,
Or any
other piece or part?
* * * *
Imagine
how many human beings there might be
If
there weren’t war, famine or pestilence?
* * * *
The
bully rules till someone bigger comes along.
* * * *
One of
those people who asked why so often
The
s/he doesn’t even care anymore.
* * * *
They
sure got your number.
* * * *
One
wonders what ignorance will make of all this.
* * * *
Anti
your Christ.
* * * *
Some
thoughts are worth resisting.
* * * *
Luck is
a five letter word.
Lucky
has five.
Make of
it what you will.
* * * *
Pay
attention to the reflections on the shiny surfaces.
* * * *
This is
my seed cast into time.
* * * *
So many
fates dancing so many ways.
* * * *
Death
will harvest you at its own convenience.
* * * *
Always
handy to have the right tool at the right time.
* * * *
Life
goes on,
Most of
the time
Not all
that exciting.
* * * *
Pure
thoughts require pure vision.
* * * *
At the
time you really didn’t think anything of it.
* * * *
Almost
ten years of thought.
* * * *
Gone so
quickly again.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)
© Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World Rights Reserved