28 August 2013

Chapter 60 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)


LX

There is nothing this realm of consciousness or any other
Can truly offer to which you do not already have access.

* * * *
How arduous for most to even begin to realize
That it is not their individual soul which is eternal.
That they are merely a dream bubble in god’s soda.

* * * *
Organized religion as so many practice it,
Is the collusive blaspheme of ignorance.

* * * *
Divine the source of beingness
And you will fathom all diversity
Imagined in this play of oneness.

* * * *
The depth of your aloneness
Cannot be measured.

* * * *
You are existent and non-existent
Within the realm of consciousness
And that which is prior to all dreams.

* * * *
Few will ever begin to understand
What so-called scriptures truly imply.
They are much more satisfied and happy
Chasing the gold at the end of maya’s rainbow.

* * * *
To see the allness of these words and any others,
You must read between the lines and letters as well.

* * * *
The ways of humanity are puny and sustain no value.
Why be burdened by greed, envy, ambition and lust?
They provide no sanctity for the spirit seeking serenity.

* * * *
You dream you are a man or a woman,
Therefore you become a man or woman.
Dream instead that you are god or the devil,
You will take on the characteristics you imagine.
But what if you are done with the craving for dreams?
What is left but that which only the nameless unknown aspire.

* * * *
The greatness to which the small-minded aspire
Is no greater than the dust upon a gnat’s wing.

* * * *
These are aphoristic riddles that fiddle
To unlock you from your weary mind.

* * * *
Thank your suffering for your insight
Into the passionless way.

* * * *
You are a house of godness.

* * * *
First, end all doubt.
Then, for the rest of your time,
Recollect whenever humanly possible
That absolute totality which is your true reflection.

* * * *
Understand space-time’s imaginary origin,
And you traverse the dreamtime universe.

* * * *
There is not a solid tooth in this manifest purgatory.

* * * *
These thoughts are for those who ponder
Beyond all realms of heaven and hell,
Into that which is sovereign, unimaginable,
Without vain compensations or bitter punishments.
For those willing to concede all will to that which is absolute
Beyond all plays of conscious design, that which is one with all origins.

* * * *
When the scribe was very young, he declared perfection a policy.
Now, if you realize the death of which he speaks, it is a reality.
Discern the sovereign declaration within your own dream.

* * * *
The superficial will always remain superficial.
Maya will ever be maya, illusion ever illusion,
No matter how vainly you wish it could be more.

* * * *
The quest for knowledge, understanding and wisdom
Is a fool’s errand.

* * * *
Those discerning this sort of thought
Are an exclusive membership
To which all are welcome,
But few find the key.

* * * *
You are it and it is you,
Only limitation brewing two.

* * * *
Recollection takes attention,
And attention recollection.

* * * *
Please excuse the scribe if he seems
Somewhat arrogant in his eternal poverty.
The signal did not come through wishy-washy.

* * * *
You are more real than you can ever imagine.

* * * *
Any concept is thought-energy woven into reality,
The ever-nowness projecting pasts and futures
Within the dreamtime of manifest creation.

* * * *
None of this would make any sense whatsoever
Without the leap of faith of the mind born of time.

* * * *
A philosopher, a student of life seeking truth’s union
Conceives an ample compendium of subjects
At the mind’s extrapolating fingertips

* * * *
Notice how the mind resists the ending of time.
It will give in again and again into every craving
As often as you succumb to its ceaseless nature.

* * * *
Where, oh where has the little mind gone?
Beyond all reflections into the vastness
Only wise seers will ever call home.

* * * *
No matter how high the high,
It is ever consciousness
Passing quickly gone,
The trap so willingly set
In mind’s eye bound to time.

* * * *
Kings and queens may imagine themselves
The rulers of vast arrays of armies and servants,
But is it not they who are truly imprisoned by the roles
In which those beneath are forced to cast them.

* * * *
Regarding any turn of events,
Who can really say if it is good or bad
When it merely aligns another time yet to come.
All causes transform into effects and effects into causes,
And only dream-bound dreamers reflect upon dualistic progressions.

* * * *
Too many people, too many technologies,
Governments, corporations, bureaucrats, tourists,
Religions, cities, prisons, deforested hills, cultivated valleys,
Chemicals, weapons, trash piles, tainted water, domesticated animals,
False differences, vain histories, mountains of false gold, self-absorbed dreams.
A species hell-bent on a sure road to extinction.

* * * *
The mind, despite its being a mutation of mysterious origin,
Invokes a linear confabulation which can never
Seal off its intrinsic spontaneity.
It is destined by its essential nature to Self-destruct.

* * * *
The world you see is a brief painting fashioned in time,
A spinning dynamic island in a dynamic spinning universe
In a dynamic dreaming you as witness have created.

* * * *
Fairness,
Like so many concepts,
Has an unfailingly certain relativity about it.

* * * *
The permutations of manifest mutation
Are far from done.

* * * *
But realize, my friends,
No false king will first listen
To the dogs playing at his feet
Without at least one nibble
Thought to be meat.

* * * *
Numby-numb-numb,
A few beers and you’re done.
Let the other fellow pretend to abstain.
You’ve got a reality of your own to entertain.

* * * *
We are on a bull
And the jaunt will not end
Until the bull is done.

* * * *
Humanity may have caught the first wave or so quite well,
Be there’s more coming and the shark’s got your tail.
What, pray tell, are you going to try do about it?

* * * *
How fortunate for humankind and the world at large,
That the harsh, cruel, foul, sinister reflections
This imagination has so freely wandered
Have been so harmlessly channeled.

* * * *
The constant, demanding presence of technology,
It is a wonder we are not all batty from all the beeping.

* * * *
We seem to postpone the dreadful accounting
For the children to someday attempt to pay.
And pay some will, so very sorry to say.

* * * *
If what one does, does no harm to another,
Then what real concern is it to anyone else?
Political correctness is a narrow, confining path.

* * * *
If you’re very lucky
You will never find out
How harsh life can truly be.

* * * *
Despite the superficial harshness of these words,
There is a great deal of heartfelt intent t to all this.

* * * *
An inane penance.

* * * *
Excuse me for asking such a stupid question,
But why is it necessary to believe in anything?

* * * *
Is it really anything but a whimsy of nature
Which makes any of us act the way we do?

* * * *
Where would we be if we did not
Support one another’s vanity?

* * * *
Do you see where we are headed?
Can we avert it?  At what point
Can the speeding  vehicle
Turn to avoid the cliff?

* * * *
The answer is cooperation

* * * *
Was it something you ate?

* * * *
With all the pain we endure,
Its a wonder we aren’t all
Alcoholics and drug addicts.

* * * *
Does all this leave you as confused as before?
Well, you’re not alone then.

* * * *
Just remember, as has been said before,
Watch what another does, not what s/he says.
Actions do in deed speak louder than words.

* * * *
What good all the world’s philosophy
If no one can live it?

* * * *
You are welcome
To laugh at my funeral,
If you find the body.

* * * *
It is the writer’s enjoyment of sound and concepts,
The challenge of isolation, and the vanity of history
Which has brought to this dream these thoughts.
What mongrel doesn’t want to leave a mark?

* * * *
You must nourish yourself before
You can ever hope to feed the world.

* * * *
Have you noticed no one label
Seems to describe you completely,
Yet all seem to fit just the same.

* * * *
A new spin on the ball changes everything.

* * * *
Are there any winners in war?

* * * *
How much easier it is to put off into time
That to which now holds the answer.

* * * *
Is there any way you can be here
Without someone or something
Aching for your existence?
It’s a god eat god world
No matter which way you turn.

* * * *
If you peer within,
You will find where all creation,
All the manifestations of your dream originate.

* * * *
Every caste has its snobbery.

* * * *
Who doesn’t see themselves as the good guy?
Who doesn’t rationalize their mystery-given role
In such a way as to maintain a sense of rightness?

* * * *
All life is influenced by so many things
Which create such a varied range of views.
A network of paths whose Soul destiny is one.

* * * *
Peace is gracefully abiding
In eternity’s momentary window of time,
Sovereign in the aloneness of the all that is one.

* * * *
It’s about time, it’s about space
It’s about a very strange and wondrous place.

* * * *
Embracing one’s death
And all the suffering in advance
Simplifies the incalculable complexities
Which inevitably arise in daily living.

* * * *
All words will someday be forgotten.
The echoes of sound will cease.
Time will be lost to eternity.

* * * *
The masses are so easily mesmerized
By the delusions history feeds them.

* * * *
Coddling weakness only makes one weaker.

* * * *
You need not trouble yourself over the world.
It will be here long after your shadow disappears.

* * * *
And the noise filled the garden with its silence.

* * * *
The return to wonder fathoms no bounds.

* * * *
What you do, how you do it,
Matters much more
Than your beliefs about it.

* * * *
The words of politicians,
No matter the scale of the arena,
Make a capricious wind look dependable.

* * * *
You have yet to encounter a label
Which does not apply to some degree,
Nor one that truly sticks for even a moment.

* * * *
Pain can make one feel very old.

* * * *
Everything points to it,
Yet delusion blinds
All but a few.

* * * *
Is karma any more than a pacifier for the powerless?

* * * *
Oh, treacherous garden.
Let the innocent play
For as long as they may
For their day of reckoning, too,
Shall come a-calling.

* * * *
Those to whom we are ancestors will have no choice
But to ride the narrow course we have set for them.

* * * *
If these words ring true,
They will stand the rigor of time.
If not, well, let them wither into oblivion.
No biggie.

* * * *
What silliness all this is.

* * * *
Good luck plugging that dike
To all who would deny the Way.

* * * *
Beginnings are endings,
And endings are beginnings,
In the context of time rooted in mind,
Preserved by the nonchalance of eternity.


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