IV
When you truly discern none of it ultimately real,
You will find desire and fear no longer govern the day to day.
That the reality of the awareness in consciousness is timeless, changeless.
The you immersed in myriad limitations born of conditioning,
Becomes the indivisible, unborn, choiceless You,
That which is prior to all creation.
* * * *
The ground of your being cannot be named or touched.
Even intuition at best only scratches its ultimate nature.
* * * *
Wake up, remember, go to sleep, forget.
Wake up, remember, go to sleep, forget.
Wake up, remember, go to sleep, forget.
Wake up, remember, go to sleep, forget.
Wake up...
* * * *
It is real, you are real.
It is illusion, you are illusion.
Irony and paradox, ever and always.
* * * *
You suffer the linear continuity of time and space
Because your view of awareness is locked
Into a constricted conscious identity
That is not, has never been,
And will never be real.
* * * *
The mind has made a habit of believing it is an identity.
* * * *
Real discipline is not suppression, resistance, denial.
It is an effortless, spontaneous, natural unfolding.
* * * *
So much emphasis is placed on differences; instead, look to the similarity.
* * * *
The grand illusion will manifest whatever experiences you crave,
Whatever tempts you into believing time and space real.
Only those with the greatest intent will not waver
In their desire to discern the ultimate.
* * * *
In the web of delusion's illusion, Maya weaves no desire unturned.
* * * *
That there is continuity is perhaps the greatest myth.
* * * *
What you truly are is faceless and nameless.
Your identity is superimposed by the dream about you.
It continues only because you accept it as real.
* * * *
Freedom is prior to all constructs.
It is neither free of or from.
It is simply being.
* * * *
When thought is understood to be vibration,
There is the potential to discern, to discover,
The movement need not translate into identity.
* * * *
When you discover what you are,
When you return to the clay of isness,
The outward, with all its deluded suffering,
Becomes a quickly passing dream.
* * * *
Exist harmlessly whenever possible.
Exude your true nature,
Neither taking or giving offense,
And all things will bask in the light of beingness.
* * * *
You are in reality your own teacher.
Someone or another may point out this or that,
But it is you who must deciper it, you who must absorb it.
* * * *
When you journey prior to all mythos, you are free to believe nothing.
* * * *
All distinctions, though seemingly real, are ultimately illusory,
A vast eternal play of light and shadow imagining itself
On the kaleidoscoping screen of consciousness.
* * * *
None can point the way to those who lack the hunger of doubt.
* * * *
What you fear is the product your own desire.
* * * *
Discern the common denominator.
* * * *
Well all create our own meaning and purpose.
All are equally valid, and all just as equally invalid.
Play whatever theater you will, none are ultimately real.
* * * *
Awareness is a state no word can touch.
* * * *
Insight and intuition operate in a far different realm
Than the thoughts of the persona, the ego-identity.
They are woven into the unicity of the source itself.
* * * *
The choice is ultimately yours.
Endure according to you own vain will,
With all the suffering consciousness comprises.
Or give yourself over to the dimensionless isness of Self,
Your true nature, the inexplicable source of all that is, all that is not.
* * * *
There is no mental energy
Or physical energy or sexual energy.
Chakric distinctions are conceptual fabrications.
The quantum is but one force manifesting all appearances.
And whether it even exists is itself but the endless morass of speculation.
* * * *
Even if Armageddon does come to pass, it will just be another round of vanity.
.
* * * *
Until your only craving is freedom, you cannot reside in true being.
* * * *
Without you as witness, isness could not be known.
* * * *
Love without desire is total, unconditional, freeing.
* * * *
How challenging to be on this small island world
Playing only a limited role others believe so real.
* * * *
That which can be done can be undone.
Only in that which neither begins nor ends,
Only that which is unborn and undying, is real.
* * * *
The temporal nature of desire
Is merely gratification of the mind.
Without the senses, or even a breath,
What is there to want?
* * * *
Because one piece of fruit is ripe, ready to fall,
And another is small, green and tasteless,
Does not make it superior in any way.
All manifest forms are equally absolute,
Equally created of the same indivisible force.
* * * *
Few can own unquenchable freedom
Without passing through canyon after canyon
Of the agonizing hell of consciousness in separation.
In the discovery of what it never was, it is.
* * * *
Do whatever you feel you must as often as you feel the need.
One day in some future past, you will perhaps realize
It quietly fell to some long-forgotten wayside.
* * * *
Taking life personally is a sure way to great ecstasies, and even greater agonies.
* * * *
Your identity is ultimately no more real than a reflection in a mirror.
* * * *
When you discover what you truly are, what your truly are not,
What is left but an inexplicable sense of awareness unchained.
* * * *
The more indifferent you are to this experience or that,
To the comings and goings of agony and ecstasy,
The closer you are to the original, natural state,
The ever-present beingness in which allness abides.
* * * *
Avoid moral dilemmas and quagmires.
Good and evil are the stillborn of duality.
* * * *
Reality can never be known, never be possessed.
An ethereal inkling is about as close as you can get.
* * * *
Though all that is, is the unicity of the great quantum dreamtime,
Few deeply discern the ever-present, unborn-undying state.
Many are called, few are chosen, fewer still volunteer.
* * * *
Whether you reclaim your birthright or not, the web spins on.
* * * *
It is the awareness that is, for lack of a better word, divine,
Not that worthless, wretched, self-absorbed ego-identity.
* * * *
The quest for eternal freedom takes you to an arena
Few have the insight, discernment, or courage to explore.
* * * *
Circumstance frames each of us to play out one identity or another.
In discerning this truth clearly, you can rediscover reality,
And in that reality, eternal life, eternal freedom.
* * * *
No word, symbol, ritual, tradition, prophet, or deity is sacred to the ultimate nature.
* * * *
Observe and listen and taste and smell and feel it all with great attention,
But believe nothing.
* * * *
The mystery can never be known or possessed, only intuited.
* * * *
Personality is the mind's fabrication.
Nothing you think, nothing you believe you are,
Exists in the reality of absoluteness.
* * * *
Detachment comes with understanding,
Illumination with the liberation of eternity.
* * * *
The screen of consciousness
Plays out this dream
But is it really happening?
Doubt it more and more every moment.
* * * *
Never easy to straddle the river.
* * * *
Neither birth nor death can touch what is real.
* * * *
That which is prior to all cannot be bound by any limitation.
* * * *
The pursuit of reality is the most arduous, consuming work of all.
* * * *
Only in complete detachment can the agony and ecstasy of passion end.
* * * *
Who-what-where-when-why-how are you without the fabrications of imagination?
* * * *
The promise of permanence is a mythological weaving born of mind.
No manifestation can resist the kaleidoscoping nature of isness.
Only in the original state can the eternal reality be fathomed.
* * * *
Bodily needs are relatively minimal, but the many desires born of mind,
Which creates all mythos, all sense of separation, is insatiable.
One must move beyond craving to attain liberation.
* * * *
All exists in consciousness, but where exactly does consciousness exist?
* * * *
As long as you believe it real, you will you will enjoy, you will suffer.
* * * *
Without mind and senses, what would exist?
* * * *
Allow no other to daunt your vision.
* * * *
Nothing remains as it is.
Continuity is a tempting illusion,
A kaleidoscoping dreamtime without reality.
Imagination is its own contagion.
* * * *
Consciousness fabricates time and space,
But what you really are, and are not, is neither.
* * * *
Your existence is a mirage,
An intertwining projection of desire and fear.
Discover the unlimited state of awareness prior to consciousness.
* * * *
To deeply realize you do not know offers the release into absoluteness.
* * * *
Whatever you think you know, whatever you think you understand
Is merely the foolish self-deception of a delusional mind caught in illusion.
The essential nature, the true Self, is prior to all knowledge and understanding.
* * * *
All manifestation only exists because you are witnessing it.
The dream of time is just happening, a spontaneous combustion.
Really no point asking who, what, where, when, why, how.
* * * *
To journey prior to consciousness requires a discerning courage.
* * * *
Continuity is illusion, a subtle trick of memory, of imagination.
The waveless waves of reality timelessly break ever anew.
* * * *
Life is a dreaming, and but for memory,
And all the illusions and delusions it inspires,
The dreamer would have never existed.
* * * *
Is there mind without mythos?
* * * *
Heal the schism within and without.
You are physician to your slice of Soul.
* * * *
So much emphasis on differences
That it would not be possible for one conclusion
To mollify, much less satisfy, everyone.
* * * *
But for the claims of your cultural mythos,
What would possibly make you think, make you believe,
There was ever a time when you were not?
* * * *
Can the agony and ecstasy of existence ever end?
Only the simplicity of a mind free of delusion
Will still the craving for continuity.
* * * *
All identity is but a temporary fabrication, a one-time show.
* * * *
We all see the given world that we are prepared to see, tinted by what we want to see.
* * * *
He who lacks doubt is but a fool; he who has too much may be, as well.
* * * *
Herein you are offered nothing, and given everything.
* * * *
Attention, give it you must, to be.
* * * *
What a boggling infinite mystery
This temporal dream of consciousness,
That we each partake piecemeal
In our individual, egocentric,
Singularity sort of way.
* * * *
Shhh, s/he really believes his/her little role.
Better to let sleeping souls lie.
Not!
Wake up!
* * * *
All there is to remember … Oy vey!
What a load in that head of yours.
* * * *
Yes, even the most notorious serial killer has a mother
Who still deeply loves and believes in her little boy.
* * * *
Move beyond being merely a corporeal, temporal entity.
You are not a human being, you are not bound by any form.
* * * *
The senses daily pull you into believing the dream real.
To greet every moment as nothing is, indeed, a challenge.
* * * *
Words are merely sounds to which we each formulate varying degrees of attachment.
* * * *
Whether intentional or not, those who have, those who can,
Often enslave those who do not have, those who cannot.
* * * *
Perhaps rather than calling it a redistribution of wealth,
It should be called a redistribution of compassion.
* * * *
Stand sovereign, as tall as your mortal height will allow.
* * * *
Earth, wind, water, fire, quantum ether.
That is all that all of this grand mystery truly is.
Nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.
* * * *
Awareness is a very nothing-but-youness.
What is there to think about, really?
* * * *
Forget everything.
Be everything.
Be nothing.
* * * *
To see what cannot be seen,
Hear what cannot be heard,
Taste what cannot be tasted,
Smell what cannot be smelled,
Touch what cannot be touched,
Now there’s the rub.
* * * *
How many dimensions might there be?
How many ways can you cut any pie?
* * * *
At some point there is really no need to even assert “I Am.”
Just being – breathing in, breathing out – is more than enough.
* * * *
It can indeed be a long and winding and oft times lonely road
Until you discern the matrix through which all time-bound linear notions wander,
Is, has ever been, will ever be, eternal aloneness unto thy Self.
* * * * * * * * * *
The Return to Wonder
Field Notes from the Unknown
© Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World Rights Reserved