XXXIX
You are whatever form manifests,
And by
that form you are bound
In the
illusion of limitation until death
To time
and space once again frees you.
* * * *
You are
the beginning and end of all dreams,
That
which all have as their origin and destruction.
Without
you as witness, no thing would exist.
* * * *
All the
wealth this planet might conjure
Could
not faintly match the gold you truly are.
* * * *
“Remember
me”
Is not
a personal lamentation.
It
means do not forget the you, you truly are,
That of
which all castings are poured.
* * * *
Any who
ask for money to minister truth
Have
not yet discerned the way is free.
* * * *
What is
the statistical probability
That
you will peer through the misty veil?
Where
will you be on the bell curve of those who do?
Will
enough see to make any difference to the human predicament?
Questions
only time will tell.
* * * *
Christ
was a homeless vagrant
Who had
the decency not to set up a church.
That
was the initiative of the many others who followed later.
* * * *
If you
want to believe your vain little personality is important to god,
You are
caught in the most laughable delusion one can imagine.
* * * *
Be
totally, immeasurably alone
Without
any sanctuary but your beingness.
That
oblivion is the everything and nothing of your existence.
* * * *
The
separations of our ancestors are upon us.
* * * *
Trying
to please some people
Is like
trying to please a sandy wind
Whose
only reality is grinding you into it.
* * * *
Once
upon a time, perhaps,
Leaders
were chosen by others.
How
often now they choose themselves.
* * * *
Differences
are all individually imagined
By
threads of habit weaving through one another,
Done
and undone again and again.
* * * *
All
time is played out in the nowness of eternity,
And you
are a tiny sliver of the complete carving.
Go to
where no woodcutter has ever been.
* * * *
Dwell
fearlessly within.
* * * *
How can
you be attached to any thing
But
through you imagination?
* * * *
Less
ambition for personal fulfillment
Would lighten
up things.
* * * *
Once
you thoroughly see
That
you are faking your entire identity,
There
is no point in making such an effort at it anymore.
* * * *
Home is
whoever, whatever,
Whenever,
whyever, wherever, however
The
wheel of now hits the road.
* * * *
Liberation
is like floating through time.
* * * *
Will is
the outcome of desire in time.
The
surrender of the known to eternity
Erases
the boundaries of individuality.
* * * *
Ignore
yourself.
* * * *
Arrogance
is whittled away
By
suffering and discernment.
* * * *
Your
biggest blind spot is behind you.
* * * *
To call
yourself any ist
Or a
member of any ism
Is
merely a form of identification
Which
once again panders to the inanity
Of the
individualized mind.
* * * *
You are
Therefore
You are.
* * * *
You
need not know every detail
To see
the direction of the flow
Or what
decision needs to be made.
* * * *
What do
you stand on
But
space playing as if gravity exists?
* * * *
We each
look for masks
To
reflect back whatever
We
choose to see.
* * * *
These
are the observations of a madman
For
those whom madness beckons.
* * * *
The
obvious will be obvious
When
you are ready.
* * * *
Why
should you feel any pride
For
finally discovering what you have always been?
Delusion
is a subtle teacher.
* * * *
We take
of the ground
Without
replenishing the soil,
Growing
at the expense of those to come.
* * * *
Did any
of this ever really happen,
Who can
say?
* * * *
Grow,
grow, grow.
Die
anyway.
* * * *
All
this study of the mind,
Only to
discover it imagined itself
And
every sort of concoction.
* * * *
Dogma
is denial of the whole.
* * * *
So many
calling for change,
But
change into what
Is
subject to so many contrary visions.
* * * *
When
Eden is treated as a resource
And not
tilled as a garden,
The
result is inevitable.
* * * *
No play
can continue forever.
The
curtain always drops.
* * * *
Those
who imitate are content with false gold.
They
bask in the illusory light of others,
Missing
entirely that their own
Is of
unparalleled glory.
* * * *
The
mysterious voice within
Is the
source of consciousness,
No
different for any but for attachments
To the
many thoughts manifested.
* * * *
The
stillness, like an ocean,
Is
always present, effortless,
Despite
the apparent crashing
Of the waves
of thought.
* * * *
Imitating
another’s joy
Is only
another form of suffering.
* * * *
Some
will value these words, many will not.
What a
strange play consciousness creates.
* * * *
Scientists
deny their intuition
By
declaring subject and object
Exist
independent of the observer.
* * * *
The
patterning is ever the dynamic reaction
To the
unfolding veil of time and space.
* * * *
What is
enlightenment
But
seeing that there is only one light
And its
creator is within all.
* * * *
One
man’s freedom is another’s delusion.
* * * *
The
fall from grace occurs
In
every thought of separate identity,
Of the
birth of a you apart from the oneness,
The “I
Amness” of all manifestation.
Grace
is a quality of mind
Free of
all division.
* * * *
Who is
it who desires, fears, angers, suffers?
An
imagined creature, surely.
* * * *
Even
the enlightened who stray into longing
Suffer
for their separation.
* * * *
Desiring
the end of desire
Is a
trap of its own.
* * * *
To see
without knowledge
Is the
grace of Eden
Potential
within.
* * * *
Knowledge
is the bind time has woven within your consciousness.
Only
the most subtle, effortless awareness of the awareness frees you.
* * * *
Confusion
is born of narrow choices.
* * * *
Knowledge
erases innocence,
But
only for so long as one is attached
To its
intellectual time-bound path.
* * * *
Place
none before the you, you truly are.
* * * *
Oh,
bittersweet mortal play.
Death
comes, but will it be your last?
Or will
you ride again and again
Until
the lesson is learned
For
that final time?
* * * *
The
first time something is experienced,
There
is an innocence, a fresh wonder,
But
after that it is difficult not to know.
* * * *
The
only real difference
Between
a gourmet feast and pig slop
Is what
sort of dish it is served on.
* * * *
Death
is for those who believe they were truly born.
Eternal
life, for those who discover it was all a lie.
* * * *
Death
is the dustpan meeting the broom.
* * * *
Others
will be only too happy to bind you up
In the
countless shoulds and should-nots,
The
many principles, laws and dogmas
Created
by duality and the many passions
That it
manufactures and so earnestly sustains.
* * * *
Moralists
must live with their many judgments.
They
play a meaningless hoax upon themselves,
A
hellish bind only consciousness can create.
* * * *
In all
your wealth you own nothing.
In all
your power you are powerless,
In all
your fame you are unknown.
* * * *
What so
many call freedom is at the expense of others.
* * * *
What is
it anyone recognizes
But a
projection of their own recollection.
* * * *
Who
turns an engine on or off?
Only
the awareness of no-mind discerns
What
the rational linear mind never can, never will.
* * * *
Given
free reign,
The
undiscerning mind
Can
never know the serene bliss
Of the
one reborn into that which is sacred.
* * * *
You may
give the voice within a personal note,
But its
temporal nature can never touch its origin.
* * * *
The
masks will hypnotize you
For as
long as you allow the mind
Undiscerning,
undisciplined, divisive rule.
* * * *
Time is
a concept cloaking eternity.
* * * *
This is
a set of consciousness-shattering thoughts
For you
from you.
* * * *
As long
as you only see the universe unfolding without,
You
will not discern that it is truly a mirage within.
* * * *
Eden is
the nest of all life’s creation,
And we,
through synergy of empty foresight,
Blindly
destroy the diversity of its mysterious origin.
How
laughably ironic this spontaneous, aloof cosmic play.
* * * *
Be
positive so many expound.
About
the unmanifest awareness, yes,
But
about humanity’s self-absorbed theatrics,
Only on
the day enough awaken into common sense,
Or the
one on which humanity is finally wiped into oblivion.
And the
diversity is allowed some peace from our tragic disunion.
* * * *
The
mind does not exist as you know it.
* * * *
Who
calls who sane or insane?
What,
pray tell, is normal?
* * * *
Well
into the far future now,
In a
time as cannot yet be seen,
Consciousness
shall perhaps discern
Its
narrowing, destructive, painful plight in time,
And
wisdom shall gain sovereign foothold upon Eden.
That
for the idealists whose minds and hearts
Yearn and
hope for peaceful morrows
Denied
by this day’s passions.
* * * *
The
mind has a hard shell of imaginary design.
* * * *
Deny
nothing impossible,
For you
are already most indelibly
A most
unlikely outcome.
* * * *
Does
this sort of eternal babble
Do
anyone any real and lasting good?
Or is
it merely another useless play of distraction
In the
mind’s ceaseless fictional, nonsensical accounting?
* * * *
The
motto of humanity’s self-absorbed, so-called civilized time
May
well be: Why not put off today what
others will tomorrow pay?
What a
merry price life must pay for consciousness unconsciously woven.
* * * *
How
often the sane among the throng
Are
called mad and the mad sane.
It is a
world full of ironic jest,
A dream
of unresolvable passion,
Joy and
sorrow cast in light and shadow
Upon a
spinning stage enhanced by physical laws
None
but the most determined can escape.
* * * *
History,
herstory, itsstory
All
just stories, nonetheless.
* * * *
Time
dictates its own mad version.
* * * *
Where
is the boundary between light and shadow
But
within the seer’s undiscerning vision?
Only if
that eye be the inward one
Can
duality achieve a unified clarity
Beyond
the meager forms cast in time.
* * * *
Gravity
creates a useful hatching ground for this manifest theater.
* * * *
Who is
real? Me? You?
Forgive
me, I can no longer tell.
* * * *
So
intent I am to point out the way
That I
forget again and again to remember
“I am that I am” that is ever, yet has never
been.
* * * *
Immortality
is guaranteed.
It just may not be in
the form
You have in mind.
* * * *
From
beginning to end,
We must all learn to
trust our own vision,
In the study of
reality, truth, or whatever you wish to call it.
*
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The
Stillness Before Time (Compendium)
©
Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World
Rights Reserved