LIX
Existence
can be very enjoyable
Until
mortal nature sinks its teeth in deeply,
And you
realize the bargain consciousness has made
With
the pain of illness, injury, aging and dying.
What to
do then is the telling of the tale
Of
every journey’s dreaming.
* * * *
Sit
down, stand up, lay down,
Walk
around, all the same
From
beginning to end
Dreamtime’s
spontaneous spin.
* * * *
Something
and nothing,
Both
attributes playing out illusion.
* * * *
Oneness
is not without the other
To
witness its illusory reflection.
* * * *
Purpose
and meaning?
When
you find one that lasts forever,
Let us
know.
* * * *
When
you get caught up too much
In
someone else’s dream,
You
miss the wonder of your own.
* * * *
If you
give into the fear you stop looking,
And only
sink more deeply into the mire.
* * * *
Death
is merely the ending of consciousness,
The
final surrender to that which has been all along,
That
which the mind can never touch, only reflect.
* * * *
You are
where you are,
So that
must be where you are supposed to be,
As if
you have any real choice.
* * * *
To
conquer the world, conquer the limited mind.
* * * *
A child
has a world as does an adult.
Both
are full of make-believe.
* * * *
The
no-mind is a concept explaining
A mind
beyond all concepts.
* * * *
Absoluteness
is like being set adrift
Without
any point of reference.
* * * *
The
purpose you seek
Is the
reconciliation of self.
* * * *
What is
common sense
But a
sense of what is common,
That
which is beneficial to all.
* * * *
What
you want most in this world
Is
often the source of your greatest agony.
* * * *
All
manifestations are holographs
Grounded
in the same essence.
* * * *
Attachment
is like a pleasurable feather
So
easily transformed into the claws of suffering,
Both struggling
in the duality born of vain consciousness.
This
passionate teeter-tottering of pain and pleasure
Is that
most called living desecrated by time.
* * * *
Read
these and other words
However
many times you choose,
Few
will ever glean their true subtlety.
* * * *
That
which you envision is founded
Entirely
upon the mix of knowledge and understanding
You
have gleaned to this point in time.
* * * *
The
child nature is with neither smile nor frown.
* * * *
Forgive
yourself for not being as perfect
As many
others delude themselves
Into
vainly pretending they are.
* * * *
Within
every holograph
Is the
reflection of that which is one.
* * * *
You may
make one change or another,
But was
it a choice or was it choiceless?
Perhaps
it seems a very different direction,
Or is
the psyche deceiving itself once again?
* * * *
Good
lord, try not to believe everything you read.
* * * *
The
kingdom of godness is not of conscious design.
* * * *
You
cannot explain what you cannot see.
* * * *
To
most, life is more real than reality.
It is
all they can distinguish and few will
Ever
even begin to fathom its veiled nature.
Those
who do see clearly must somehow
Find a
way to abide in time and space
Despite
the fact they know it is not.
* * * *
These
words are for the rare
Who do
not feel the need to believe,
Who
seek the unity beyond all manifest form,
And
will not be bound by the constraints of the mind.
* * * *
Pretty
darned fascinating
How
many masks and costumes
Fit on
a human skeleton.
* * * *
The
seer explores all worlds
Without
even taking a step.
* * * *
All
knowledge is man-made,
But
that which is the sovereignty
Is
prior to all time-bound manifestation,
Untainted
by action or deed or circumstance.
* * * *
Go to
the deep end of the puddle.
Let out
your air and descend
Into
the bliss of oblivion.
* * * *
What is
life but that which is unborn
Concocting
a veil of birth and death
That it
might eternally deceive its Self.
* * * *
God and
the devil are concepts
Dualistic
notions creating imaginary lines,
Irreconcilable
fissures within the storm of the mind.
* * * *
Organized
religion is the placebo of the masses
Caught
in the coarse net of their vain ignorance.
It is
for those satisfied with meaningless answers,
Deceptive
speculations, half-truths and outright lies,
Those
easily mislead by their own undiscerning whimsy.
* * * *
It does
not take much intelligence
To see
the human species is not as evolved
As so
many fancy themselves to be.
* * * *
Here
you are.
What
more need there be?
* * * *
The
tears of longing’s
Many
passionate inspirations
Are the
play of time’s brackish nature,
The
pain inherent in any dream
Inspired
by its illusion.
* * * *
Cut the
knot of passion
And the
you that yous
Ends
without beginning.
* * * *
The
dream of consciousness weaves into a reality
Through
that which is the never-born witness
To the
vast charade of time and space.
Through
illusion it pretends birth and death
And the
spontaneous collusion into which it is cast.
* * * *
The
fact that it is you believing
It is
you doing any of this is the quandary.
Consciousness
is a vast weaving over which you have
Less
say than you will likely ever discern.
* * * *
To
abide in time, you must act in one form or another.
To
abide eternally, you must die to all veils,
No matter
how enticing the dance.
* * * *
What to
do with this once you see it?
What
can you do with that which has no value
But
play out the dream as you freely will.
* * * *
What
price have you not paid
For
wandering through extremes?
* * * *
Only
limited minds need speculate god.
* * * *
The
unity has never been splintered.
Only
you mind has created such a deception.
* * * *
Your
true nature is like teflon non-stick coating.
* * * *
Beginnings
end and endings begin,
The
dusty eternity never long
In any
either-or.
* * * *
Cast
out the demons, cast out even the angels.
You are
not bound by the concepts of evil and good
In this
passion play of manifest consciousness.
* * * *
Adventures
come and go.
To some
you say yes, to others no.
But who
is it who yeahs and who is it who nays?
Consciousness
plays its many minds like strings upon a lyre
And the
sounds weave through space across time
Within
the mind of godness, ever one.
* * * *
The
manifest universe is neither
What
you know nor what you forget.
It is the
mystery of all things conceptual,
Yet
ever untouched by any creation ever spun.
* * * *
In the
company of strangers, you are alone.
In the
company of friends, you are alone.
In the
company of naught but yourself,
You are
alone, eternally sovereign.
* * * *
You
keep looking for that something more
That
can never be more than imagined.
* * * *
The
universe is just one big recycling bin.
* * * *
We work
so hard to remember so much
Only to
forget it all in the end.
* * * *
Time
comes, time goes.
Standing
still every while.
* * * *
A day
unremembered
Is a
day clearly lived.
* * * *
Does
the world draw you into it,
Or do
you into it?
* * * *
You are
not the flesh or the persona,
Nor any
other thought composed
Of the
minds of human origin.
* * * *
You are
your own imagined enemy,
Companion,
acquaintance, friend and lover.
* * * *
Maya
gives and maya takes away,
And you
get caught in the web of attachment.
* * * *
Become
the merry Buddha, laughing at your cosmic joke.
* * * *
Time
exists only because of the vague traces of perception
Locked
in the chemical-electrical nature of the manifest dreamer,
The
caretaker of illusion, the floor upon which maya dances,
The
passionate web adorned by all but those rare few
Who
discern the total freedom beyond all veils.
* * * *
For all
your effort, for all your joy and suffering,
They
just slap you in the ground or toss you in the flames,
And you
are unable to hear whether they are laughing or weeping
For the
imagined soul upon which they in illusion reflect.
* * * *
Many
scriptures write of homelessness
When
participation in worldly dreamtime
At some
point becomes truly pointless.
It is
quality of mind free of concern,
Not the
lack of a physical setting.
* * * *
Never
assume you know anything.
* * * *
With
you total surrender
Heaven
becomes manifest fact.
* * * *
All
dreams end as they began.
* * * *
You
came, you see,
But
will you liberate you Self from all illusion?
* * * *
God is
much more than a concept possessed by the mind.
* * * *
Knowing
you are that which is all is the only gold,
The
redemption of the manifest dreaming.
The
others idolize only the false gold
And
suffer the agony of mortality.
Only in
the oneness of no other
Is
there a true sanctity of that
Which
is immortally eternal.
* * * *
Are
there any in this vain escapade
Who
have not fantasized a sense of inner glory?
All
equally bleach in the sands of eternity
* * * *
You
cannot discern eternal life
With a
mind caught in the endless
Measurement
of concepts born in time.
* * * *
The no-mind
glides along timelessly aware.
* * * *
Observe
you etched consciousness
As you
would a recording played
Over
and over and over again.
* * * *
To
discern the eternal nature
Is to
be reborn into wonder.
* * * *
The
human drams is a fraud
Played
out consciously upon itself.
* * * *
End you
life a child of godness.
What
other end has any meaning?
* * * *
Look to
no other for eternal salvation.
It is
for you and you alone to discern.
* * * *
Funny
how you can say something over and over
And it
cannot be heard by those lacking the ear for it.
And
even if they do hear, it is still all projection.
* * * *
The end
of time is the no-mind prior to concept,
The
eternal passing know only in Eden
Prior
to the advent of humanity.
* * * *
Your
greatest wealth is the discernment of your true Self.
All worldly plays of
imagination pale in comparison.
* * * *
The
faceless bogeyman takes on
Many
imagined masks and costumes,
But it
is ever the same divisive irrational nature
Playing
out the havoc of passion’s irreconcilable nature.
* * * *
Prove
all this? How? Why?
* * * *
*
The
mind caught in the known
Is like
a matrix bound by linear rulings.
But
prior to the illusory veil is the absoluteness
Inherent
in all dreamtime manifestation.
Seek
that reality and you shall find
The
tranquility of absolution.
* * * *
When
you die to time,
You die
to birth and death.
* * * *
The you,
you truly are, is not the you,
You
identify yourself to be.
* * * *
Struggling
to gain happiness and avoid sorrow,
Discern
that both weave the web of suffering.
* * * *
You are
not the grid of consciousness,
But the
space throughout.
* * * *
Ever notice how god has
a way of clearing out a room?
* * * *
On
a roll, baby, on a roll.
* * * *
Your
given universe is your teacher.
Any given face, any
given form, any given anything
Can be a means to
discerning that
Which you truly are.
*
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The
Stillness Before Time (Compendium)
©
Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World
Rights Reserved