28 August 2013

Chapter 36 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)


XXXVI

Ideals are usually nothing more than whimsy,
Flights of enticing, frivolous, capricious fantasy,
Rarely with earnest yearning for their realization.

* * * *
That least little bit of superiority
Is the dregs of separation
Born of false pride.

* * * *
Desire is the center
And the task is to let it effortlessly fall away.

* * * *
You want answers.
Whoever asks the question
Is the answer.

* * * *
You want to end the hellish enterprise
You have created in you mind?
Then kill yourself within.

* * * *
Try not to be afraid
To ask for advice or get help.

* * * *
The imagined center
Is born of identification
With the sensorial context.

* * * *
You are not obligated to want anything.

* * * *
Where are you when the center evaporates?

* * * *
Why have you done all this?
For the sheer hell of it, obviously.

* * * *
The future of consciousness
Depends solely on the past
As it churns in the present.

* * * *
All this just to finally realize
All your knowledge and purpose
Were entirely your own concoctions.

* * * *
Obviously, nothing is impossible
Once you see the nature of the dreamer.

* * * *
There is no reconciliation
But through time’s ending.

* * * *
To finally realize your fall from grace
Was the outcome of free will
Is the turning point.

* * * *
Those given moments when you seek contentment
In the conscious refrain are the stumblings
All seers know in the mind’s grapple
With surrender to the eternal.

* * * *
Until you become that which you truly are,
The scriptures throughout time and geography
Will be twisted and skewed with many meanings.
It is the subtle play of words so easily misunderstood.

* * * *
How many ways must you be born and die
To finally get it straight?

* * * *
How easy it is to be subjugated by the opinions
Of the others who have no ultimate reality
But what you in your own mind create.

* * * *
For every action there is an adaptation.

* * * *
Would it really make any difference
If you knew why or not?

* * * *
Look beyond time and know you cannot be
Other than that from which all dreams are born.

* * * *
You passionately hold onto a changing world
Which sifts as fine dry sand through clutching fingers,
No matter your desperate hope that it somehow be permanent.
All suffering is born of the mind’s clinging nature.

* * * *
Surrender to the changing nature
And find the permanence of your eternal birthright
Throughout the illusionary dream of creation and destruction.

* * * *
Discern within the other that there is no other.

* * * *
One of the last fears is that of not wanting anything,
The fear of desire’s end.

* * * *
How can you have been born
When what you truly are
Has no need to be?

* * * *
You brought nothing with you,
And will leave it all at the exit.

* * * *
What scam has not someone fallen for?

* * * *
Keep nothing in your mind as often as possible.

* * * *
What you think you are
Is an eternal trick you play upon your Self.

* * * *
No one is free
But those who think themselves free.

* * * *
There are only separate delusions.

* * * *
Stream of consciousness.
Dream of consciousness.

* * * *
There is no use to this
Unless you are ready.

* * * *
See the reflection in a mirror.
The watch the watcher watching.

* * * *
Call it big bang or big crunch,
It is merely creation and destruction
On a level you can comprehend
Only through eternal insight.

* * * *
The worshipers of mammon, of greed,
Will use anything, even god,
To their own ends.
The stock market bull is merely
The adult version of the golden calf.

* * * *
Who is it who is free or not free?

* * * *
It is right here, right now.
Chattering about it
Only puts it off again and again.

* * * *
No one can truly kill more than a personality.

* * * *
Those fearing the death of identity reside in hell.

* * * *
No matter what is cast upon the screen,
You can never truly lose your soul.

* * * *
Size is not an indication of anything.
All form springs from the same humble beginning.

* * * *
Evil cannot touch you
Unless you give soil and water
To the seed of dualistic consciousness.

* * * *
Consciousness is the movement
Attempting to become permanent,
But its changing nature is the paradox
Of that time bound futile attempt.

* * * *
Seeking strokes for the spiritual niche you created
Is just another vain meaningless trick of consciousness.

* * * *
There is no Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval
For any organized attempts to own the unknown.

* * * *
What becomes of humanity
Is the same end all forms take.
Gold is gold no matter the dream.

* * * *
It is the flame of desire you crave.
The object of its caress is secondary.

* * * *
You cannot help anyone
Who does not at least hobble along
On their own two feet.

* * * *
Sovereignty relies upon the courage of aloneness.

* * * *
You will find the god(s) you seek
Until the seeker becomes the question,
And, finally, the answer.

* * * *
The other has imprisoned you
Since you first appeared
In this sensory spell.

* * * *
To what end negation can take you,
Only the one can say.

* * * *
Even in the most mundane circumstances,
That which is oneness reside in eternal poise.

* * * *
Depending upon the sway of consciousness,
You are the king of heaven or a pauper in hell.

* * * *
Eternal salvation has always been yours.
The challenge is somehow realizing it
While you are a witness to time.

* * * *
From you the universe springs eternal,
Yet to comprehend it fully the witness realizes
It has never really been what it seems.

* * * *
By supporting the forces who worship the false gold of Maya,
You doom your progeny to a fate you would not wish upon yourself.

* * * *
To only want to do great things
Is to miss the fact that the small things
Are equally, if not more important.

* * * *
The earth will cleanse humanity of its sins
If it cannot do so for itself.

* * * *
That same sense of you
Is within everything breaking
On the farthest shores imaginable.

* * * *
Those who organize religion
Are the same as middlemen everywhere
Clamoring like hungry parasites for a piece of the action.

* * * *
Jesus was not the first,
Nor has he been the last
To discern the eternal birthright.

* * * *
You are that which is neither alive nor dead.

* * * *
The eternally damned are those
Who choose to create the hell of time
Through which they timelessly travel
Beckoned by the many others
Only too ready to share
Their hellish fates.

* * * *
Like small dust storms,
The passion invoked by words
Inevitably plays itself out.

* * * *
Whatever the state of consciousness,
Awareness is ever the same.

* * * *
So-called humane gestures so often trip upon themselves
From lack of clear insight into long-range ramifications.
Ripples travel for great distances in every direction.

* * * *
So may dying for the want of so little.

* * * *
Just let go.

* * * *
You have no obligation to this world,
But for your own choosing.

* * * *
How many laugh at your gullibility!

* * * *
What is the personality
But a habitual set of thoughts
Born of genetic and social circumstance.

* * * *
What is the enemy, really,
But ignorance?

* * * *
What change can truly last?

* * * *
The gullible will always seek out
A middleman to tithe to.

* * * *
Discard all hope.
You are beyond its delusion.

* * * *
The other cannot force you to want anything
But through you collusionary consent.

* * * *
Eden will be, with or without you.

* * * *
The more you want,
The more troubled you will be,
The more trouble you will likely cause.

* * * *
To discern the code,
Decipher the mind.

* * * *
Those willing to rule another’s mind
Will find those willing to allow them to,
And destroy those who will not.

* * * *
You already abide in eternal life.
What more you want of it,
Is your own burden.

* * * *
What you imagine it is, it is,
Yet truly it never was.

* * * *
A teacher may encourage you to look,
But it is you who must learn to see.

* * * *
Ripples course upon the water’s surface
As does a personality across time,
Yet has either ever really been
More than reflected light
Playing dreamily in an illusionary mind?

* * * *
Thoughts crest and foam, crash and roar,
Like waves endlessly dancing upon the sand,
Their transience the never-ending question:
Are they, and have they ever really been?

* * * *
Whatever you may believe it is,
It is not, has never been,
And will never be.

* * * *
The bottom line is there are too many of us,
And neither our monkey mind,
Nor the world,
Will abide it for long.

* * * *
More or less is the denial of reality.

* * * *
The cries of glory echo only in time.

* * * *
The meaning of life
Is whatever the moment
Draws out of you.

* * * *
Just talking to my Self again.

* * * *
Another curious fate, indeed.

* * * *
That I Am is not attached to a grain of sand,
Much less a whole amorphous collection of them
Playing out a poorly, unhappily written stage production.

* * * *
Nothing to do.
Everything to do.

* * * *
Do not hesitate to contemplate
Anything and everything
That comes to mind.

* * * *
When you want to solve a problem,
Become the stillness within,
And sooner or later,
A right answer of some sort
Will suddenly appear in consciousness.


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