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