XIII
Some call it this, some call it that.
Words, words, words; sounds given conceptual overlays.
The nothingness given meaning, given purpose; identity it neither needs nor requires.
The busy-busy cacophony of the human mind’s unceasing obsession
With re-hashing everything in its own muddle.
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In the war of destruction that we have ceaselessly waged upon her,
Mother Nature has never, nor will ever, take prisoners.
You either work with her, or against her,
There is no middle ground.
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Why put off freedom? What prison holds you?
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We are all the lambs of godness
Moving towards the slaughterhouse
In chutes of our own choiceless choices.
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Some of the many things
That bring the greatest contentment:
Healthy food and drink, breathing in, breathing out,
A cleansing shower, real friends, real loves,
A nap on the grass, an aimless stroll.
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Evolution is god's way of kneading consciousness.
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Many fail to realize the leap to liberation
Because the many voices, the many mirrors of mythos,
Whisper surrender too great a gamble.
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Think about all the many steps, all the many decisions,
It has taken you to reach this point in time.
How impossible, how overwhelming, it would have been
To have anticipated the long and winding journey when you first began.
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There is little point in attempting things
For which you have no physical or mental capacity,
Or seeking experiences which jeopardize your health and well-being.
Manifestation is limitation no matter how yogic the stretch,
And all attempts to prove yourself are but vanity.
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The senses, the mind, the heart, are levers, fulcrums,
That can cause great and endless suffering
Or catapult you into liberation.
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Reverence and irreverence walk arm in arm.
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What you are ready to learn will find you.
Listen closely and clearly for the knock.
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Living aimlessly finds the mark.
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Intelligence cannot be legislated.
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We all fall victim to gravity eventually.
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How many put others before themselves?
Who is truly selfless in this manifested realm?
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The still point now, ever fresh,
Is the boundless spring of the eternal,
The dawn of creation and dusk of destruction.
It is where pleasure and pain, cause and effect are not.
It is where the timelessness of awareness streams conscious.
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Every deed and thought creates a ripple in consciousness.
Find that stillpoint, that quality of awareness, that momentary witness,
Where the ever-churning cause and effect crafted of time and space are no more.
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How complicated we make existence with all our imagined divisions.
So many spend their brief time generating unnecessary rancor,
All because, in ignorance, they believe their thoughts real.
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There is nothing sacred in the quest for that which is sacred.
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If you live through it, you will find death not worth fearing.
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There is likely nobody as fascinated with you as you are.
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Why spend so much time dredging the imaginary past,
Especially when it often causes such mindless havoc.
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The mind functions in time.
Timelessness is the death of identity,
Which resists as desperately as a fish out of water,
With every ounce of its dualistic nature.
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If you only see differences, you have much to discover.
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The mirrors you seek will be there awaiting your arrival.
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Because you fear hell in the hereafter, you create it now.
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Witness, dweller, awareness, soul, atman, brahman, god,
Are but inept concepts describing the youness you truly are.
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If time and space were real, you could stop and linger for awhile.
But, alas, even the stillest stones are churning in the quantum sea.
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The most consecrated moments are when all sense of separation dissolves.
Sweeping away false divisions, false notions, is what your existence is about.
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Dying to concern for the future takes courage; it requires the wisdom of insecurity.
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To ignore desire anytime or anyplace, see and grasp the stillpoint of awareness.
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Enculturated life is like white bread, yeasted fluff without much substance.
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If evil touches you, it is because you allow, perhaps even encourage it.
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To be a child of godness, you must surrender to the timeless nature.
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Your life in time is written in the mind-body as rings are in a tree.
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Illusion's delusions are comfortable; liberation, totally insecure.
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Can you see another without the screen of past impressions?
To at least be aware of the impressions is a challenge in itself.
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The rational mind must erupt in crisis to blossom into the no-mind.
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Challenging, indeed, for the mind to just be, given its conditioning,
And the life force at whose helm it navigate the shoals of existence.
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Education as we have shaped it teaches delusion, not enlightenment.
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The symbol is not the thing, and ultimately the thing is not the thing either.
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It is challenging for most to venerate that which the senses can never discern.
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How can anyone exist not giving their whole being to totally reunifying with totality?
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The ignorance of delusion passes from generation to generation.
Wisdom must ever be discerned and distilled by each anew.
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Water and oil mix just fine from the indivisible view.
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Every mask has many capacities and limitations.
To reside in vanity is a yellow brick road,
Paved with sentient suffering.
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You cannot surrender to a concept, a notion.
Surrendering is prior to all thought about it.
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When all you see is you, you will be you.
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Dirtier water, dirtier air, dirtier ground.
Less food, less space, less accord.
The dystopian now slowly unfurls.
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Declare to your Self, "I am the Way."
Now, discern what that vision entails.
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Judgment is an act of separation.
Discern the indivisible awarenesss,
And the weighing will dissolve eternal.
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So many thought images flowing in your mind.
Are you aware of the waves as they rise and fall?
Can you look closely enough to penetrate the depths
Of your ocean to discern the reckoning of their source?
That is where you will discover and own the ultimate nature.
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There probably is not one religion that does not claim to be divinely absolute.
True, perhaps, in the limited manifest sense, but from the unmanifest view, not.
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The universe is a pulsating-vibrating-kaleidoscoping-hologram-matrix-quantum theater
In which you are witness within and without the within and without
That is not, was not, and will never be.
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Hard to want to keep pretending that you are one of the inmates, too.
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All your emphasis on light and the many shadows it casts,
Is just more play, more distraction, of the illusional mind.
You are the indivisibly absolute prior to all light shows.
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You must travel lightly to keep up with the moment.
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For consciousness to be anywhere but here now
Is a long and winding path laced with suffering.
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Spread good intention whenever possible.
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Why envy experiences others manifest?
None are more important than your own.
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Spend your life scourging every delusion.
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Awareness of the awareness is potential in all.
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The mind-body any given human manifests
Plays a huge part in the reflections it will experience.
Seeing the reality beyond all mirrors is an insight few meander.
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When the present is approached timelessly, there is a dreamlike flowing
That makes even the most chaotic and mundane times equally inadvertent.
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None of it is real, none of it was ever real, none of it will ever be real.
None of it ever more than a kaleidoscoping dream of stardust,
The quantum essence come unto the pretense of life.
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The senses are merely specialized nerve endings
Evolved though eternity’s quantum orchestration.
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Light is a function of the senses and mind.
Without their limited role as receivers,
What light would be necessary?
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Ideals have no reality.
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See the light,
Hear the light,
Touch the light,
Taste the light,
Feel the light.
Be the light.
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You are the experiencing.
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Now, now, now, now, forever now.
Time and space is naught but an illusion,
A priori in a most delusional sense.
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Do we individually choose to manifest
Is beyond knowing and less than a concern.
The point in fact is that you are dreaming here now,
And may choose to make the best of the opportunity or not.
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The awareness is a formless sea behind the eyes.
The senses inspire consciousness to imagine a vast universe,
But it is no more than a brief dream to which mind every moment yields.
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Every bubble of awareness, whether instinctual or conscious, its own unique vision.
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If all you see a world of sin, it is your own confusion creating the confusion.
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The eternal ether courses through the veins of the river of creation,
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You think you know so much, and that is your blindness.
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The eternity of time traverses all creation.
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Isness fills those who travel empty.
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Absolutely vulnerable.
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Here you are now ...
Here you are now ...
Here you are now ...
Here you are now ...
Here you are ...
* * * *
You are it, have been all along,
And will be in every future-past hence,
In the forever-after-genre-milieu whatever.
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Desperation makes for desperate counter measures.
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Awareness knows no boundaries and harbors no delusions.
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Why do children cry at birth?
Perhaps because the first taste of separation is so unutterably terrifying.
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Not acting out a desire means little; if it is thought, its web is woven in consciousness.
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Within every moment’s creation-preservation-destruction, an imaginary glimmer.
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What a hungry thing the mind is, consciousness is, the indivisible essence is.
What is all experience but the insatiable consuming itself every moment.
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The stillness of awareness
Witnesses the clouds of consciousness come and go.
You only think you are the wind.
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Integrity, one of the ideals to which too few succumb.
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Life is food for thought, a feast born of imagination.
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Black and white are but fringes of consciousness,
With everything between every shade of gray.
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With detachment comes serenity and compassion.
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If you hear only propaganda, that is all you will utter.
Study everything, and discern for your Self what is real.
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You seek and learn from a vast array of mirrors.
They are all reflections cast by the light of beingness.
Resistance ends when none are tainted by dualistic notion.
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Only in the stillness of eternal life,
Of the awareness prior to all things imagined,
Is there freedom from the myriad vanities of consciousness.
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Playing a little part in a little play is but a little smidgeon of imagination
Given over to vain notion based on a nature-nurture fiction of quantum design.
* * * *
Desire, fear, the myriad passions of the monkey-mind in general,
Are nothing more than predicable habits, patterns born of nature-nurture,
Of genetics and the incessant winds of time playing out the vanities of consciousness.
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To look for perfection in the body and mind is to miss totally where it truly is.
* * * *
Are you something that is something, something that is nothing,
Nothing that is something, nothing that is nothing.
Or all of the above in a sea of relativity.
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Where is the demarcation between the awareness within
And the universe without, but a wall built of imagination.
* * * *
The linear mind is no match for the ever-accelerating,
Ever-morphing exponential of these our modern times.
* * * *
Of the crimes committed,
A don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy is advised.
The secret no one knows is the secret no one tells.
* * * *
Sex and the countless other pleasures of the senses
Take a back seat when contrasted to this reunion within.
What earthly pleasure can possibly match eternal salvation?
* * * *
There are those rare who dwell in the momentary awareness,
Those who dwell in discernment, those who dwell in the eternal mind,
Insight is its own law, neither bowing to authority, nor subscribing to dogma.
* * * *
You are screwed anyway; the Reaper always hovering naught a breath away.
May as well enjoy your Self, die in the saddle, in so-to-speak cowboy parlance.
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Is the atheist any less determined not to believe, than the believer is to believe?
So much contention, so much effort, so much dwelling on so many this’s and that’s,
All for nothing more than vain notion, dull whimsy, over that which can never be known.
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The Return to Wonder
Field Notes from the Unknown
© Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World Rights Reserved