19 August 2013

Chapter 142 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)


CXLII

This illusionary world of agony and ecstasy will uncover many ways
To convince you into believing you exist as a separate entity.
Only your own discerning conviction and recollection
Will sustain you in the churning tides of doubt.

* * * *
It might not be the problem it is,
If there were a lot fewer human beings.
Anyone who has ever grown even a small garden
Must quickly learn that pruning and thinning are a necessity
For any harvest to reach its full potential.

* * * *
Dogmatists are much like dogs
Pissing on everything they can
To mark their self-righteous turf.

* * * *
Become master of your innermost vision.

* * * *
All judgment is founded upon pride.

* * * *
Once you fully realize you are that which is godness,
That your individual identity is entirely fabricated,
That suffering no longer of any importance,
Your are free, suffering loses all holds,
And the serenity of grace fills your being.

* * * *
Upon fools effort is wasted.


* * * *
Any asshole is king on a porcelain throne.

* * * *
The dreamtime will find many ways to deceive you
Into believing you exist in some permanent fashion.
Only your own discerning conviction and recollection
Will sustain you in those many moments of doubt.

* * * *
Consciousness paints itself in every glory.

* * * *
The question is not who you are,
But who you imagine your Self to be.

* * * *
Coincidence takes many trails.

* * * *
No matter how old he gets, how infirm he becomes,
Any given man will always have a hard-on in his head.

* * * *
The mind seems to love creating insoluble problems.

* * * *
In that which is godness, include yourself.

* * * *
You are a little bit of everything,
And a little bit of nothing.

* * * *
Assume it now.

* * * *
There’s that irony thing again.

* * * *
An existential free-for-all.

* * * *
Going home to your Self.

* * * *
The promise that never came.

* * * *
The play is vanity.

* * * *
A unique sense of turf.

* * * *
Wonder what our ancestors would think.

* * * *
Some real specimens,
Real samples of a pathetic nature.

* * * *
We’re all angels and demons in someone’s dream.

* * * *
You would die for that?

* * * *
It’s show time.

* * * *
A cellular in every palm.

* * * *
Another obscure, pathetic drama.

* * * *
Aging is a journey into invisibility.

* * * *
It’s a question of numbers.

* * * *
Another mask of passion.

* * * *
It’s something for which few have the appetite.

* * * *
Not much escapes you.

* * * *
A rather curious hobby, don’t you think?

* * * *
You are godness
And the simplest way
To exercise that knowing
Is to breathe serenely.

* * * *
The folly of seeking
Is that there is nothing to find.

* * * *
Groups meet regularly
To support their delusion.

* * * *
Is it courage,
Or just lack of concern?

* * * *
Dread the future
Only if it is the unrealized past.

* * * *
The unending maintenance
Of fabricated identity
Is apparent in the countless
Rationalizations, justifications, assertions,
And other self-absorbed forays.

* * * *
The human drama can only continue
As long as the genetic edifice
Has an environment
In which it can
Even barely abide.

* * * *
What nonsense we will put up with
Simply to gratify their sexual hunger.

* * * *
Who is it who continues but the you
That you imagine yourself to be.
Who is it you really are
But that which has never been?

* * * *
Divine madness is a rare inclination,
A drunk which few truly imbibe
As fully as eternity allows.

* * * *
Most would be better off
Discarding their spiritual libraries
And sitting alone by a river
Until they figure it out.

* * * *
Sit detached in the scene surrounding you,
Let the senses run their course without interference,
And you will know the sweet serenity of eternity.

* * * *
No matter how you package it,
Dogma will never be true religion.

* * * *
If you use these words to divisive ends,
You have not understood the freedom they imply.

* * * *
For some the paradigm has already changed.

* * * *
The relativity of reality is colored perfectly, pristinely gray.

* * * *
Perhaps it is your destiny
To sleep through eternity.

* * * *
Greed seeps its way into hearts and minds
And creates hells few can but hope to escape.

* * * *
God help us all if heaven is what so many imagine.
What the blind see, what the ignorant know is so often
Crazed by delusions well beyond any reckoning.
What god would prize such madness?

* * * *
To think you can measure
That which can never be measured.
What games consciousness plays upon its Self.

* * * *
It is so simple,
Yet we torture ourselves
And each other
For the mind’s desire
To have it be so complex.

* * * *
If you cannot discern heaven in this brief lifetime,
What makes you think you will be ready
Or deserve it in the next?

* * * *
Be cautious and open as you approach analogies and parables.
It often takes more than one look to comprehend
What is truly being said.

* * * *
God and the devil are the same.
It is ignorance which has devised
Two masks for the faceless one.

* * * *
What higher high do you seek
But one devised by imagination?
You are already everything
You could hope to be.

* * * *
The linear play of time and space
Have no absolute existence
Outside the limited mind.
The parts are entirely imagined
And posses no reality in themselves.
Yet to exist we must all pretend some reality
Or return to the oblivion from whence all were born.

* * * *
The moment in which any artistry is achieved
Is such a pleasant, satisfying experience.

* * * *
Your personal view of god is not god, nor is anyone else’s.
It is your distinctive attachments which sway you
Into arranging everything personally.

* * * *
The dogmatic cling to their authority
Like a whore does her virginity.

* * * *
One person’s waste is another’s saving grace.

* * * *
Eternal salvation is not for the greedy.

* * * *
The promise of heaven
Or the threat of hell
Is the game of limited thinking,
A misunderstanding of what early psychologists
Were saying of the manifest mind.

* * * *
Life is eternity played out in time.

* * * *
It is all the play of godness,
And yours is just another
Ever-changing face painting.

* * * *
The sorrow comes from clinging
To the physical nature.

* * * *
A soul with a view.

* * * *
The genetic drives, the hungers and thirsts,
The sexual longings, the senses feeding into the mind,
All mesmerize you into believing your food-born, thought-identity real.

* * * *
Samadhi, nirvana, bliss, call it what you will,
It is merely what is there when you are not.

* * * *
Be vain if you must,
But don’t pretend you aren’t.
Nothing is more tiring than hypocrisy.

* * * *
Eternity is not a product of time.

* * * *
Despite humanity’s ignoring it’s reality,
Natural selection is very much the law.

* * * *
Why do seers write so many musings of the mystery of existence?
Because that is where their primary interest resides,
And they are just putting in their time
Till time ends.

* * * *
There has never been but one soul
In every form imaginable.

* * * *
Time sets the stage for all things in god’s many eyes.

* * * *
A mind without an identity
Is like a shadow without a dream.

* * * *
There is only one way.
It is not bound by any dream.
There are countless dreams, but none
Are more than reflections,
Slights of hand
Of the vast infinity.


* * * *
Make the effort until it all becomes effortless.

* * * *
What to do in this existence
When one foot is in illusion
And the other in oblivion.

* * * *
History has a curious tendency
To be edited, rewritten and forgotten
Over and over again in the course of time.

* * * *
The vibration of waves crashing
Tells only of the great ocean
Out beyond all horizons.

* * * *
When will you learn
Not to believe
Everything you hear?

* * * *
Just because it was said or written long ago, or even yesterday,
Does not mean all that much, despite the assertions
Of the many so convinced it does.

* * * *
Use analogies and parables as you would a ladder,
But put the ladder away when it is no longer needed.

* * * *
The serenity of illumination
Is not dependent
Upon the play of time.

* * * *
No need to pretend anymore.

* * * *
Time is relative to the space,
And space relative to the time,
Neither existing but through
The witness of the mind.

* * * *
Others observe only a body-mind identity
And its countless actions and words.
Few see the essence within you
Is the essence within all.

* * * *
That within, that without, all the same.

* * * *
What matter what any other thinks?
Why would any bird return to a caged life?

* * * *
That birthed of limitation
Must ever abide in limitation.
That which is prior to all limitation
Can never be confined or narrowed
Even by the most determined attempts.

* * * *
When you are anonymous within,
You may attain invisibility without as well.

* * * *
Can humanity ever get control of its wayward dream?
Only time will tell, but not without an exodus
Though countless nightmarish histories yet to come.
The play of godness has much in store for the manifest dream.

* * * *
Allow your Self the drunk of godness.
There truly is no other drink to rival it.

* * * *
Any forest eventually needs
An expedient, efficient bonfire
To thin out the dead wood.

* * * *
Just remember that it is you who wakes up every day
And makes the mortal choice to reincarnate
To pick up and carry the bag of shit
Stinking up the mind.


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