XLVIII
Those
who glimpse these words
Will
find in them what they are prepared to see.
All
will intone them differently according to their inner vision.
Remember
that they are only words, each keying
A
unique personal insight, all of which
Are
merely godness dreaming
The
manifest creation.
* * * *
How
free you will ever be is question
To
which only you can discern an answer.
* * * *
What
can you be
But the
timeless reflection
Of that
from which all manifestation
Is
created and destroyed instantaneously.
* * * *
That
momentary existing,
Which
none can ever hold onto,
Is all
any life truly is, a bag of memories
Founded
on a portion of fabricated knowledge
Gleaned
haphazardly from the spontaneous passing.
* * * *
The
reflections of the many mirrors
Fool
you again and again.
* * * *
Whatever
passion you may exhibit,
Time
passes not a bit different
In the
ultimate sense.
* * * *
A maze
by any other name
Wanders
just the same.
* * * *
Contentment
comes when the clinging stops.
* * * *
When you
see time and space do not truly exist,
The
unfolding present is quite different,
Yet
every bit the same.
* * * *
For you
to perceive
Your
intuitive inner voice,
You
must put aside the squalor
Of
limited personal notion.
* * * *
Consciousness
does not quiet down easily,
But
simply.
* * * *
In
sleep and complete wakefulness,
You are
anonymous, the latter consciously.
* * * *
You are
the sum of humanity
Caught
in a personal view.
* * * *
Let the
wind wear itself down.
* * * *
All
mindsets are only minds set in time.
* * * *
Without
time, who would you, could you be?
* * * *
Time is
without rhyme or purpose,
But
what you give it.
* * * *
The
master knows s/he
Is as
much a beginner as ever is.
* * * *
The
game of life is mortal fare.
* * * *
Few can
listen with a discerning ear
Because
attention is so easily swept away
By the
undisciplined winds of delusional thinking.
* * * *
Neither
black nor white nor gray,
Nor any
other color is the clarity beyond all.
* * * *
After
all is said and done,
The beingness
is all that is left.
And
that is but an assumption as well.
* * * *
Recount
your dream as often as you please,
It is
ever imagined, as it was even as it is happening.
Identity
is the projection of time ever after the fact.
* * * *
Without
a priori, where would you be?
* * * *
Birth
in one hand,
Death
in the other.
Clap
them together
And
what do you have?
* * * *
If you
are not godness,
It is
only because you imagine you are not.
* * * *
Where
are you?
Where
are you not?
* * * *
Eternal
life,
Timeless
life,
The
dream lived now
As a
pebble leaving no ripples.
* * * *
Read
these thoughts and let them go.
* * * *
Too
many fragmented minds
Create
only unaccountable destruction.
Dissolving
divisions, transforming into the whole mind
Is an
arduous step-by-step walk along life’s razor edge yellow brick road.
* * * *
Without
the sense of a greater whole, all problem-solving
Only
casts lengthier shadows or further disarray and confusion.
The
integrated mind is oneness functioning in manifest action.
* * * *
The
hell you yourself create
Is
likely more torturous that any
Any
other can or will.
* * * *
Brush
away the many voices,
The
many ghosts of time within the mind
Which
exist only in the continuity of your imagination.
* * * *
Give yourself
permission to be as nothing.
* * * *
The
most simple solutions usually work best.
* * * *
The
ancient minds of eden
Lived
in the immediacy of the cycles of nature.
Civilization,
the gathering of knowledge, the advent of technology
Placed
imagination at the forefront and thus magnified
The
fall from grace to a point where simplicity
Was
forgotten and complexity reigns.
* * * *
All
paths lead to the pathless if surrendered so.
* * * *
Organized
religions serve only rationalized promotions
Of complex,
confusing veils and denials of truth’s unutterable simplicity.
It is
the endless theme of any parasite, any middleman seeking
A more
often than not undeserved slice of the pie.
* * * *
The
personality-identity is the result of a fragmented mind.
This
contraction is the suffering of consciousness
Which
only sovereign, detached awareness can heal.
The
integrated mind is the dissolution of time-bound persona,
The
resumption of the unborn, undying, desireless, fearless, eternal now.
It is
the rebirth into the wonder of Eden as it was witnessed
Before
the imaginary fall from grace.
* * * *
Imagine
yourself being any other life form on this planet,
Oblivious
to the hell humanity is creating of it.
* * * *
Whose
will do you follow?
Your
own, or that of which you were created?
* * * *
This
world is created each moment to destroy.
* * * *
In
reality, wealth is poverty, and poverty, wealth.
* * * *
A glass
half full to some,
Half
empty to others.
Both,
yet neither.
* * * *
Twist
the words and their concepts
Until
you can peek behind them
And see
they are truly void
Of any
real meaning.
The
answer to any riddle
Requires
irrational simplicity,
The
domain of fools and rascals.
* * * *
Problems
budding everywhere in every form imaginable,
And
their definitive solutions so absurdly byzantine
As to
require the greatest simplicity to unfold.
Not all
knots are undone through effort,
Some
require a blade to the Gordian core.
* * * *
Few
governments, if any, have ever earned
The
complete, deserving trust of their people.
Why
humanity continues playing the sucker game
Is
because more than one is born every minute,
And it
takes a bit longer than that to wise up.
* * * *
That
gray matter between your ears
Is the
spaciousness of totality
Come to
consciousness.
* * * *
It is
pain and adversity that draws you
To
examine the source of suffering.
* * * *
Does
the cup drink the tea?
Can a
fool hear words of wisdom?
* * * *
Just a
note to say that the world fool
Takes
on various connotations
Throughout
this text.
It is
left for you to figure
The
scribe’s play in your own.
* * * *
To look
into any mirror
And see
only godness
Is the
mark of a madman
Of the
highest realm.
* * * *
Eternity
is the only reality
You
truly have claim to,
Yet it
is the one which
Can
never be mined.
* * * *
The “I
am” identity
Is
merely a throwaway product
Of the
space-time continuity.
* * * *
Hate
consumes those
Who do
not discern its demonic potential.
* * * *
Time is
based upon the play of concepts.
* * * *
Scriptures
around the world are merely early psychology books,
Attempts
born of the mind to comprehend the incomprehensible.
* * * *
Without
arrogance, with great simplicity,
Be the
exponent of god in your personal version
Of this
surreal three-dimensional illusion.
Walk in
godness as godness.
* * * *
Those
who see beyond all boundaries
Are
dangerous to those bound to the world
Because
all their gold, all their force, all their fame,
Is
given the weight of a fly upon a laughing pile of dung.
* * * *
When
you are done with the playground,
You
will seek the maker of time,
And the
hint is: It’s you.
* * * *
Illusion
draws out many passions
Which
only detached serenity can quell.
How
arduous to be free of the temporal claims
Of this
sensory dreamy illusory weaving.
* * * *
Once
you discover how little you truly need,
So
little seems so much.
* * * *
Happy
or sad?
What
difference can there possibly be
Between
two illusions so obviously, equally of the same one?
* * * *
The
innocence of youth is quickly wiped away
By
history’s smiting, gnashing, crushing inertia.
* * * *
Through
the mists of confusion you will wander
Until
that moment when the sun of your being
Burns
away the arid painful veil of illusion,
And you
will know, beyond all fear and doubt,
That
you are that mystery which is one with god.
* * * *
Once
duality is assumed, all illusion is created.
Are
there any other creatures as separated as humanity?
At what
point does consciousness become the bane of existence?
* * * *
Is
there free will?
Or
merely its illusion?
Do you
truly have any choice
But to
think exactly the way you do?
* * * *
Is it
real yet?
* * * *
Days
without direction
Are
heaven-sent repast.
* * * *
From
the whole all parts come,
And
within each fragment
The
whole is reflected.
* * * *
Did god
cast man in his own image?
Not.
* * * *
Awake,
asleep, eyes open, eyes closed,
All of
it the same anytime, anyplace,
All
differences ever imagined,
All by
the same dreamer,
Reality
dreaming all illusion real.
* * * *
Each of
us experiences whatever opportunity life’s lottery offers.
All
total, it is the temporal play of god, both real and unreal,
In its
ceaseless play of intertwined light and shadow.
* * * *
From
the depths of unimaginable suffering,
Also
sprouts the seed of joy everlasting.
* * * *
To be
or not to be, is the question
To
which only rare minds
Find
true answer.
* * * *
The
life each of us lives
Is but
a particle of god’s dreaming
As it
is played out within eternity’s sumless sum.
* * * *
Do all
the myriad other creatures combined
Ask
even a fraction as much of life
As even
one human being?
* * * *
As
wrathful or loving, as petty or sacred, as personal or impersonal,
As
limited or expansive as your inner vision will allow,
Your
ideas of god are your own creation.
* * * *
Move
about until you are content to be still.
* * * *
Great
pride makes for greater falls,
As any
gnat defying the wind can tell you.
* * * *
To get
off the wheel of suffering is very simple.
Just
get off.
* * * *
Believing
is a sign of doubt.
Knowing
is its erasure.
* * * *
What
can the crashing waves of thought
Ever
truly know of the infinite ocean
From
which its roar originates?
* * * *
God is
as alive as you are.
* * * *
Humanity’s
endless idolatry of personality
Misses
completely the realization of that
Beyond
the reproaches of limitation.
* * * *
Those
who are ready to waken
Cannot
help but timelessly embrace
The
liberating destiny of realization.
Ripeness
is beyond any and all
Choices
born of attachment.
* * * *
Eternal
salvation is misunderstood by most
To mean
the continuity of the individual soul,
When,
in reality, it means total surrender
To that
beyond all comprehension
Of the
mind born of limitation.
* * * *
You
want to know how it all ends, how the curtain falls?
Well, as
it is, has ever been, will ever be, obviously.
* * * *
Incompetence
rarely appreciates
A bright light anywhere
near it.
* * * *
To see one’s Self,
Or not see one’s Self,
That is the question.
* * * *
Anyone
who tempts you to follow them little more
Than a
shyster-scammer-swindler-scalawag con artist
Tugging at the
innumerable wants of your desire-filled mind.
*
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The
Stillness Before Time (Compendium)
©
Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World
Rights Reserved