28 August 2013

Chapter 57 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)


LVII

Each of us has a dream universe
Which so many often dogmatically believe
Is the best way for others as well.
So much infringement,
So little allowing.

* * * *
The reflection you cast
Is like all temporal reflections,
Ever bound by manifest limitation,
Caught within that which is recognizable,
Veiling that which has never been.

* * * *
Why would it be necessary or even desirable
For the persona to continue on after death?

* * * *
You are that
Prior to all beginnings,
After all endings,
In all nows.

* * * *
Is it a droplet which reflects,
Or that enclosed within its veil?
Or do the flickers of light even exist
Apart from the dreaming perceiving it?
How can the dreamer and the dreamed exist
But for the eternal mystery of awareness
Creating every version of creation?

* * * *
Each must reflect upon their reflection
Until the delusionary reality is discerned unreal,
That all thought true can never touch what is really true.
It is the irony of manifest existence that one must be dissatisfied
With the superficiality of consciousness to discern the aware intelligence
From which all things born of dreamtime harmonize the song of god.

* * * *
To make godness a moral force
Is a dualistic notion of questionable reality.
Angels and demons all have equal parts in dreamtime
To those who discern all are created by the same quantum mystery.

* * * *
This quest is not something to be ambitious about.
It is the end of that which crates ambition.

* * * *
Become the dusty one.

* * * *
If you toss a pinch of dirt
Into a clear pond, no problem.
A bit more and it gets a little bit foggy.
A lot more and it is going the take a long while
To get things cleared up again.

* * * *
Death will not be much different than life,
Just without the mind-body identifications.

* * * *
Why argue about something everyone is?

* * * *
The most correct version of truth
Was located prior to conception.
The rest is vanity and vexation.

* * * *
As far as dealing with this vain world goes,
All you can do to prepare for what time holds in store
Is to get whatever tools and capacities you think you might need
And be open and ready for whatever comes your way.

* * * *
To conceive that it is your mind, your body or your life
Is where the source of humanity’s original sin sits,
The basis of separation for which you need feel
No guilt, shame, remorse nor accountability.

* * * *
Civilized life has generally deprived the common folk
Of the freedom to flower as they might in less restrictive times.

* * * *
Will there ever come a time
When you do not look to others to define you?

* * * *
You never even see the masters you slave for in this world,
You just pay your taxes, buy their goods, and fulfill
One producer-consumer role or another.

* * * *
What is manifest reality but that
Which the bubble realm of the sensory mind
Can only intuit as a high probability?

* * * *
The best life is the one left alone.

* * * *
Gaze out upon your personal universe
And discern through its mysterious reflection
That impersonal nature which you truly are.

* * * *
Wash away all ideals.
They are the product of time
Ever out of reach of the whirlwind
This moment presents.

* * * *
Seeds spread very quickly across this garden world.
Humanity is merely one of the diverse mutations
Godness is experiencing in its eternal play.

* * * *
The mind has contrived a conceptual reality in which it cocoons itself.
It a pretentious ruse of permanence, an unreal immortal legacy
Consciousness can never attain because the foundation
Upon which it bases its many assumptions, time,
Has never truly existed even one moment.

* * * *
Clinging to dualistic time creates both pleasure and pain.
It is the spin of the wheel played out by the mind
Caught in vain, linear pursuits, all of which
Spawns the suffering of existence.

* * * *
Dreams are for the restless in mind and body,
For those who want more than the waking state allows,
For those whose confusion is ever unresolved
At the close of each day’s passing.

* * * *
There is no living off ones laurels in the timeless.
It is an ever-flowing creation and destruction
Which neither appears nor disappears,
But for the dream-state of the sentient mind.

* * * *
The hoards of riches piled in contemporary times
Make that of  Midas look inconsequential,
But the significance of the story
Has never changed.

* * * *
Is reality the reflection of the drop,
Or that which the drop is?
Or neither?

* * * *
One cannot expect from time
What time can never offer.

* * * *
There has always been money and time
For research into a bigger, better club.
Humanity’s savage instincts have always
Captivated much of its creative efforts.

* * * *
If you have ever worked with livestock,
You will understand how the powers that be
Are herding the masses through chutes and pens
To what ends only the gullible cannot see.

* * * *
Which came first, the computer or the mind?

* * * *
Humanity may be more conscious and capable
Than any other creature on this planet or any other sphere,
But, for all its suffering it has endured and caused, it is none the wiser.

* * * *
All change happens now,
Which means any transformation
Of the human paradigm would emerge
In one moment or another, wholly and totally.
It would require that idealistic blueprints be set aside
And those participating equally merge into the dust of reality.
So unlikely a thought, the aphorism was almost nixed.

* * * *
Reality does not differentiate between subject and object.

* * * *
What existence chiefly offers a seer is an opportunity
To conceive and explore the impersonal
Through a personal context.

* * * *
Each dream is a reflection of its environment.
A natural context creates a natural view.
A civilized one a civilized view.
To transcend any
Requires a relative view of all.

* * * *
Freedom is not something remembered.

* * * *
Those create problems
Cling to them with viselike grips
And have little or no interest in their solution.

* * * *
How pointless all the travail of this world.
Its ceaseless web of passion is barren seed.

* * * *
Scientists need to break apart the universe
For the sake of knowledge and understanding,
But reality sanctions no division for none truly exist.

* * * *
Watch closely how the habit of the genetic-social fabric
Weaves into your daily  thoughts and dreams again and again.
The world you imagine real  plays like a repetitious, unyielding record.

* * * *
Most are caught in the complex web of their thinking.
Eden is not commonly sought by the civilized mind.

* * * *
Without time and space there would be nothing to want for.

* * * *
When you cannot remember who you think you are,
That is as good as it gets.

* * * *
Being that which is brahman is the detachment.
Up until then it is merely imaginable practice,
Shadow-play still locked in vain limitation.

* * * *
It is not you who surrenders.
Isness merely resumes its natural state
Free of the play of imagination.

* * * *
Are you significantly insignificant
Or insignificantly significant?
Both or neither?  Neither or both?

* * * *
The you, you think you are
Is the passion of consciousness
Weaving its delusion into a vexing reality.

* * * *
It can be a long road back to where the path ends.

* * * *
You have been shaped socially and genetically
To be concerned what others may or may not think of you.
Up to now this has often tortured you in many ways,
And the question is, can you operate in time
Without the travail such thoughts bring?

* * * *
How much of your vain life is spent
Judging, justifying, rationalizing and maintaining
The recording of illusory reality you play over and over again?

* * * *
All manifestation is shaped into one habitual nature or another.
Even if one attempted to drastically change their nature,
It would never be more than a slight modification,
A time-bound adaptation or adjustment
To presumed circumstance.

* * * *
What do you want?
Sometimes everything.
So often so little you cannot even imagine it.

* * * *
If you wish to destroy the universe, kill yourself.
It is all very simple.

* * * *
What you really are is the immortal clayness,
Prior to time’s bounded appearances.

* * * *
The real you is not about identity
Bound to consciousness.

* * * *
It is whatever you think it is,
Whatever the group agrees to act out.

* * * *
As long as you are the manifest dreaming,
You will always do whatever time allows.

* * * *
Find that which recognizes no dream,
Knows no limits inspired by consciousness.

* * * *
The beingness is the love, the you, you are.
Alone, sovereign, perfect beyond all dreaming,
Prior to the temporal sensory play of consciousness.

* * * *
In a linear conceptual view, time travels a direction.
In reality, energy unfolds exactly where it always has,
Within eternal consciousness, the nexus played as you.

* * * *
We lament for those who blend into dust,
Yet they would  probably weep, would they could,
For we who endure the painful dreaming of vain existence.

* * * *
You are the inconceivable conceived.

* * * *
If you do not know an answer,
It is not a foolish question.

* * * *
From the fact
The whole is envisioned
And surrendered to.

* * * *
What is history
But a historian’s dream?

* * * *
It is you who decides
How successful you are.

* * * *
More of us need to shut up
And live unknown within and without.

* * * *
You cannot really know your Self,
Just the conceptual play before and after.

* * * *
A tiger does not put itself through moral binds.
A tiger just does what tigers do.

* * * *
You are the space prior to all manifestation,
The emptiness, the oblivion, the nada, the zero
From which all the wheels of existence have ever spun.

* * * *
Human beings have surely extinguished enough seed lines
To comprehend its own is not immune to a similar fate.

* * * *
Become that aloneness prior to all contexts,
All mirrors created of manifest dreamtime.

* * * *
What can any do to persuade the ignorant
So ready to crucify in the name of dogma?

* * * *
Be your Self to the core of your being.

* * * *
Some must do more than others
To be free enough to be content.

* * * *
Path?
What path?
I do not see any path.

* * * *
What a dream you had.

* * * *
Love your own heart
And everything else
Will likely fall into place.

* * * *
Love is a word, merely a concept,
An ideal the mind can never grasp.
Just be your Self and it will happen.

* * * *
The fountain of youth is that within
Which never cedes the aging without.

* * * *
Be as truthful and open as your dream allows.
Some are flung into much more challenging lives
Which make principled approaches very conditional.

* * * *
The root of all division, all violence is within the untamed
Undiscerning individual mind seeking the unattainable more.

* * * *
The cat merrily, seriously chases the illusive
Confounding ball of yarn smaller and smaller
Only to find nothing at the game’s sudden end.

* * * *
Take reasonable care of the time machine
So that you won’t be too old too early.

* * * *
Who has not explored the darker thoughts
During at least the private moments?
All values are born of choice.

* * * *
Do you want to be at peace?
Well then, just breathe
Into the no-mind.

* * * *
Rip off any mask you will,
Behind all are you.

* * * *
Some say there’s really only one good book in anyone,
Maybe that’s why this one never seems to end.


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