CCLXVII
Everything is indivisibly connected at the quantum level,
And it is in that very still, momentary awareness,
That those rare few who earnestly quest
Will discern that essence, which many call God,
Or Brahman, or Tao, or Yahweh, or Allah, or Great Spirit,
Or whatever other sound it has been given, or will someday be given.
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As transitory as the present moment is,
This singular now is the only point at which
The wheel of consciousness touches the road,
Generating the illusion of time and space.
* * * *
All forms are but quantum illusions, as imaginary as any nose on any face.
* * * *
Very intelligent people can make very stupid assumptions,
And very stupid people can make very intelligent assumptions.
Sage and fool are but vague roles in the dance of irony and paradox.
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The mirages of the quantum mystery are too many to even more than ponder counting.
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Pure awareness is like floating with eyes shut in the deep end of a very infinite pool.
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If you did not have the many voices of others corrupting your mind,
You would rely on your own observations to understand reality.
The ultimate actuality is not about any individual or group.
It is, has ever been, and will ever be, the real you.
* * * *
Organized religion is much like many comfort foods.
It can make you feel all warm and fuzzy and satisfied and hopeful,
But in reality, may not be all that nutritious, and maybe even more than a little toxic.
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In the grand infinity, a floating particle of dust is just as real as you.
* * * *
Quantum created this garden world.
It is humankind that has more than a few times fashioned it
Into one hellish extreme or another.
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Kin to all.
* * * *
Pink poof.
* * * *
Gold comes in every color, every shape, every size, as does trash.
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What you call good or evil is merely the comfort zone of your given day-to-day.
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Every streaming timeless moment,
The universe perceived by the senses
Is hungrily consumed by the mind.
* * * *
All forms great to small are relative to every other,
Until you work your way down to the quantum indivisibility;
That which is revered as god by countless names,
Of which all forms, including you, are.
* * * *
Humankind cannot forever disregard the world’s natural rhythms,
Which it has managed to so adroitly manipulate in so many ways.
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If you inquire for your Self what is written herein,
You will find it real and true from beginning to end.
* * * *
The Way is rocky and pitted and steep
For the any explorers who have yet to discern
The ultimate is more effortless than a morning breeze.
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Doubt until there is no doubt to be had.
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Quixotic tilting with absurdity is an absurdity in its own right.
* * * *
Ironic how rarely health and capability are appreciated until fate steals them away.
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The fingerprint of quantum is equally in all creation.
* * * *
Vain disputes that reality is this way or that,
Are meaningless distractions from the awareness
Of the eternal nature in all manifestation great to small.
* * * *
Hurricanes, earthquakes, tornados, volcanoes, tsunamis,
Cosmic storms, and other dynamic forces of nature,
Are but fleeting facets of your ultimate nature.
* * * *
Another thing that cannot be explained
To those not yet able to clearly see
That which is the only reality.
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It is really much less about evil, than it is twisted consciousness.
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What do you really care about, but one vain ephemeral notion or another.
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At the core of all ideas,
All fabrications, all dreams great to small,
Is the Great Quantum Nada.
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Is the body really any more than a mobile vat of goo, hamburger waiting to happen.
* * * *
Same clay, a different day, a different play.
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That which is without identity is the real you.
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You are the question, you are the answer.
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Nothing changes your world.
* * * *
All Romes fall.
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One moment it is there, the next it is gone.
Eternity, such a capricious temptress.
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As if doing more really means anything.
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So alone as to be That I Am.
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Maybe someday.
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You say you want a revolution, but are you really ready to lose everything?
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Those who accept gifts should learn not to expect them.
Entitlement is a characteristic, a cancer of consciousness.
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More jewels for the crown.
* * * *
Just another sensory preoccupation.
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When you are the singularity, what bounds can there possibly be?
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You cannot expect or hope from space-time what it can never, has never, will never be.
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If the truth be told, realize a gusting wind or willful gnat likely has as much to say.
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Now is the only now, so quickly here and gone,
In which there can be any accountability.
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The collusion of continuity maintains the human condition.
Everyone pretends they are the same person they were way back when.
How challenging to discern everything dies every moment,
And it is only the concoctions of consciousness
That keep the mortal game afoot.
* * * *
It is through the sensory weaving
Of the given heredity, the given environment,
That the untarnished consciousness of any given newborn
Is channeled into the movement of dualistic notion.
Call it original sin, or whatever else you will,
But, in truth, it is merely the beginning
Of a lifelong, time-bound struggle
Through the relentless blend
Of one pleasure or pain,
One agony or ecstasy, or another.
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Yet another form disguising the same you.
* * * *
Another scam to which so many naively subscribe.
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El Nada Grandes, El Nada Pequeños.
* * * *
Across all space, across all time, this same truth applies:
Though there may be a gazillion names for godness
Or a gazillion worlds as abundant as this one,
There is, never was, and never will be, any other.
* * * *
Any given life form abides in an imaginary universe
Concocted by whatever sensory perceptions its given attributes
Have managed to retain in its central processing unit.
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The quantum of mind is a portal to immortality.
* * * *
Quantum circumstance.
* * * *
Everything is forgotten sooner or later.
* * * *
Forget your self, remember your Self.
* * * *
Imagination soars in ecstasy,
Imagination plummets in agony.
Bravo, bravo, Maestro.
Alas, alas, Fool.
* * * *
So it goes, c’est la vie, oh well, deal with it. get over it, move on.
* * * *
How vain to imagine you are anything but That I Am.
* * * *
Is being born good fortune, or harsh calamity?
Which way is the wind blowing this fine day?
* * * *
You are the abyss wandering in dreamtime.
* * * *
Postponing the inevitable only rarely solves a problem.
* * * *
This spinning garden world is in perfect balance.
It will endure any given change without concern.
It is we two-leggeds who are out of compliance
With the unwritten rules of the quantum game.
* * * *
The Soul is not bound by any attribute; all forms are temporal,
And thus only significant for a relatively brief, imaginary duration.
* * * *
Like a pebble thrown into a still pond, the original stillness is disrupted
When the winds of space and time ripple to and fro within an innocent mind.
* * * *
I witness you, you witness me, we all witness one another,
Most too blind to see the same one in each and every other.
* * * *
No tradition, no ritual, no dogma is required.
Truth can be discerned without any language or culture or creed.
Even the notion of space-time is not required to clearly see what it is, and what it not.
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Given all but unlimited space and resources,
Humankind has done what any species would do.
How far will we stretch our foolishness?
How much is left, the answer.
* * * *
Every then until now, every now until then,
Every now in any given reflection ever reflected,
Every now that has ever manifested in any given when,
Is all you.
* * * *
The only difference between you and a river,
Is that it flows, and you in mind, stop and go.
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Will begets all ecstasies, all agonies; will discerns the timeless origin.
All the heavens, all the hells, all the purgatories between,
Are but dualistic notions of intelligent design.
* * * *
What a magnificent, dynamic garden this spinning orb was
Before all the railways and fences and roads and wires and sprawl
And mayhem of every imaginable sort burst out from the jungles of Africa.
What cancerous aliens we are to the quantum dream that birthed us.
* * * *
Another vampire wandering its inner desolation
Looking for a vein upon which to feed its darkness.
* * * *
Eternity is an infinite chasm through which space-time in mind is immaculately drawn.
* * * *
It had to be very big, it had to be very small, for all this to come to pass.
But to call it a plan misses the quantum reality of spontaneous combustion.
* * * *
The names of all manifest things are but empty, temporal sounds.
No more than waves crashing one after another,
Endlessly ebbing and flowing
On the infinite, immortal shores of eternity.
* * * *
We project forward through rose-colored glasses
What memory’s many conclusions so persistently assume,
Peering through the quantum fog of vain perception.
* * * *
There is ultimately no such thing as evil.
What we call evil is merely extreme self-absorption:
Pride, anger, lack of empathy, desolation,
The insatiable craving for more,
And the ignorance,
The denial,
Of the vast web,
The absolute indivisibility,
Of all manifestation great and small.
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Curious how, for the pleasure of the senses,
We voluntarily contaminate the air and water and ground
With countless deadly toxins and impurities
That cannot help but be absorbed
By these frail, tentative,
Mortal containers
In which all life must abide.
* * * *
The great indivisibility plays no favorites.
* * * *
To make up your mind, first you must have one.
* * * *
The most challenging thing not to lose are your mind and body.
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Fair-to-middling chance any so-called just war is more often than not an oxymoron.
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And what of that state between agony and ecstasy where only awareness remains.
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Embrace your insignificance.
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Insidious stuff, water, that it can both create and nurture life, and destroy it, too.
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We all play out one meme or another.
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Lean toward facts; opinions mean squat.
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The dream is not more real now than the day you exited the womb.
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Giving to get is not giving.
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Be here now, be there now, be nowhere now.
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Those who survive into the grayer years become the relics of time.
* * * *
Everybody has a story.
* * * *
The truth of awareness awaits your discernment.
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What right do you have to be happy or sad?
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The mind’s capacity for self-aggrandizement, imaginary as it is, is a ceaseless wonder.
* * * *
Be nowhere now.
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Nothing is real and true but for the programming that assumes it so.
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You are ever the same as before as during as after.
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The harvests of mind are quickly devoured.
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The body is a teeming battleground in a war no one survives.
* * * *
Destiny is the price life pays for existence.
* * * *
Skirting around nothing.
* * * *
There it is again; there it is not again.
* * * *
A secret is not long held by more than one set of lips.
* * * *
Another day of slaving away for DNA.
* * * *
Is it an electromagnetic spectrum?
An electromagnetic matrix?
Or anything at all?
* * * *
You are the quantum mystery playing hide and seek with its Self.
Home base is not as far as you might think.
Ollie-ollie-oxen-free!
* * * *
Beneath the open mask of any newborn,
The untainted awareness, the untrammeled path,
The uncarved block, the tabula rasa, the stillness of eternity.
* * * * * * * * * *
The Return to Wonder
Field Notes from the Unknown
© Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World Rights Reserved