28 August 2013

Chapter 48 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)


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.


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