15 October 2013

Chapter 268 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)


CCLXVIII

Partake all the vain, dualistic notions manifest existence has to offer,
Until you are too gorged to discern anything but the oneness
Weaving its way throughout all time, all space.

* * * *
Nothing is ever either/or in some disconnected way.
All things are relative to one another
In the manifest context.

* * * *
Discern that inner state,
The awareness that is unchanging,
And you will be, in every moment, eternally reborn.

* * * *
Too busy babbling
To hear the soundless
Within and without the sound.

* * * *
The wind wafting through the nowness of mind
Is the wispy nature of the imagination of time.

* * * *
When no one’s calling,
And when you’ve nowhere to go,
Guaranteed, there’s always nothing to do.

* * * *
How can the high school intrigues,
The dramas, the absurdities of this dream world
Not lose their allure at some point.

* * * *
Another king of geekdom.

* * * *
What to do if your calling
Is not of this world or any other?
Why, whatever yea or nay comes to mind
In the serendipity of any given moment, of course.

* * * *
The blueprint of the seed,
Coupled with the gusty winds of time,
Have blown you like a leaf to this moment in dreamtime.
And on and on you drift, this way and that.
Fate is not rocket science.

* * * *
Until that last, slow, wheezing breath,
There is always an adventure
Waiting for imagination
To give it a go.

* * * *
There is really nothing
You can or need prove to any other.
You, witness, are proof enough, a solo act, indeed.

* * * *
There are neither death nor taxes
In the reality of eternal life.

* * * *
The dreamworld entices in every way imaginable.

* * * *
A full, aware breath makes for a still mind,
And a still mind is the portal
To eternal life.

* * * *
Where imagination wanders,
Those many immobilized within the weaving
Of its countless delusions,
Call a life.

* * * *
Pause for reflection
As often as it tempts you,
For it is the grand infinity within all
That draws home those who earnestly seek.

* * * *
Spend it, kiddo, spend it, wisely or foolishly,
Quickly or slowly, richly or poorly, literally or figuratively.
And, if it is your calling, perhaps you will manage
To determine the true nature of all dreams
Prior to the womb of earthly design.

* * * *
Is that all there is?
Surely, there must be more to life
Than this.

* * * *
Displace the sorrow of your imagination
With the elation of your beingness.

* * * *
So this is where fate is taking you.

* * * *
How can anyone save
A body, a mind, a world, a universe,
That really doesn’t exist?
Perhaps that deep realization
Is truly the only grace worth saving.

* * * *
There’s no place like home.

* * * *
All life on Mother Earth
Came out of the same puddle.
We are all cousins of the same origin.

* * * *
Surrender to your true calling,
And what will be, will be
As you dreamed it possible.

* * * *
Any history is only as accurate and enduring
As the minds that lend themselves
To its recollection.

* * * *
The body is unconcerned what it consumes,
As long as its primary biological needs are met.
The mind, well, it can hurtle with little discrimination
From one hedonistic inclination to another.
A path that often proves a rocky road.

* * * *
We are all manifest drops of the infinite oneness,
Ever omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent,
To which eternal life is the only key.

* * * *
Who isn’t normal in their own dream?

* * * *
There will be blood.

* * * *
If you discern it, great.
If not, oh well.
Stay awhile or leave.
Go in peace, and sally forth
Through your dream of finite vision.

* * * *
The Buddha mind,
So simple to fathom
That few ever do.

* * * *
You are a pretender,
Just like everyone else.

* * * *
Please feel free to rewrite anything
If it is within your mind better written.
No one owns it, every one owns it.

* * * *
Awareness is the nectar of the beingness.

* * * *
Challenging not to perish in the same saddle
In which you’ve ridden out your dream.

* * * *
When the mind moves, when the neurons fire,
Agony and ecstasy ripple to and fro across the stage.

* * * *
You don’t have to care.
You don’t have to pretend.
You don’t have to want, to fear,
To give into any passion
But through your own
Imaginary volition.

* * * *
It all passes.

* * * *
How black is black?
How white is white?
And what is gray, anyway?

* * * *
Imagination requires memory.
No memory, no imagination.

* * * *
A streamin’ dreamin’.

* * * *
How you spend your mind is your life’s telling.

* * * *
True believers live in rutted minds,
Propaganda their daily bread.

* * * *
Others certainly can slow you down.

* * * *
So many gorging on this world, never full.

* * * *
What is any religion but a Ponzi scheme
Created by a vision of one god or another.

* * * *
You don’t really know anything.
If you pretend you do, you may fool others,
But, ultimately, you are really only deluding you know who.

* * * *
You think too much, you talk too much.
Shut up and listen to the silence within.

* * * *
Do not suffer delusion lightly.

* * * *
A many-splendored dream
With every agony, every ecstasy
Punctuating the imagination between.

* * * *
Written for those
Whose calling it is
To be a mind of god.

* * * *
Thou art a good villain.

* * * *
Witty ditties at every turn.

* * * *
There is no who.
There is no what.
There is no where.
There is no when.
There is no why.
There is no how.
How can any dream
Contain such foolishness?

* * * *
Desire unleashes fear, and fear, desire.
The ceaseless array of passions they evoke
Are the key drivers in this temporal, finite theater.

* * * *
There are always things
That could have been done differently.
That is the way it is for all beings in all corners of the world.
We must all learn to exist with the many inevitable consequences of our actions,
With the many decisions, whether intentional and unintentional,
That have been made in the moment-to-moment.

* * * *
There are, have been, and will be as many universes
As there are drops of awareness imagining them.

* * * *
The truth is nothing special.

* * * *
Nothing in particular.

* * * *
Is to die content, anonymous,
Both within and without,
Is a rare aspiration.

* * * *
Evaporate into solitude.

* * * *
Herein, nothing is accomplished.

* * * *
All rested up and ready for a nap.

* * * *
You witness the play of time and space
Through whatever container the genetic lottery spins,
Each and every one unique, each a one-time momentary opportunity
To, in every way imaginable, wander and observe
The eternal mystery you are.

* * * *
How fortunate the myriad creatures of this garden world,
That they do not comprehend the innumerable absurdities
To which humanity, seemingly without respite, daily submits.

* * * *
The true church is equally at the essential source of all things.
No doctrine, creed or idolatrous notion is required.
To assert any dogma is necessary is a lie,
No matter how well it is framed.

* * * *
In the end it will be said by those, if any, still standing,
That humankind outbred the world’s capacity
For avarice and self-absorption.

* * * *
Are absurdity and insanity normal?

* * * *
One of the many favorite things to do.

* * * *
The more attached you are,
The more you will suffer.
It’s not rocket science.

* * * *
Does time move forward,
Backward, sideways, up, down?
Does it even change in any direction at all?
Or does it simply, mysteriously unfold
In the stream of consciousness?

* * * *
Another revolutionary manifesto.

* * * *
If there were a god, surely humankind
Would be put on the fast track to oblivion,
Unless, of course, he/she/it really was
Greatly amused by all the absurdity.

* * * *
Come together as you please,
But do not for even one moment
Imagine yourself or your chosen group
Ultimately superior in any way to any other’s.

* * * *
Of course you can believe what you please,
But do not deceive your Self that your confabulation
It is really any different than anyone else’s gray matter chatter.

* * * *
What an arrogant species
To believe it is the sole rhyme and reason
To that which is essential within all creatures great and small.

* * * *
Every mind is sovereign unto its Self.

* * * *
A-wandering the dusty trail to one dusty end or another.

* * * *
Journey back to the future.

* * * *
The abyss, cloaked in form, held firm by gravity,
Plays out the illusion of time and space,
And the mind into which it is born.

* * * *
We give it countless names, but, in truth,
How can there be more than one infinite abyss.

* * * *
The mind is portal to time.
The mind is portal to eternity.

* * * *
You are that of which all universes are created.

* * * *
You are always at the core of the infinite nada.

* * * *
Those who view these many flawed thoughts
Must eventually come to the realization
That it was devised on short notice.

* * * *
It is only the sense of separation
That inclines you to give godness a name.
If you understood what the essence of all things truly is,
You would give it no name but your own.

* * * *
What a constant distraction the body
And all its sensory-chemical reactions.

* * * *
The same Way
As seen through many eyes come before,
And no doubt hence.

* * * *
Life is for amateurs.

* * * *
So much monkey business.

* * * *
All these thoughts are designed to realign the mind.

* * * *
The madness will likely continue
In one fashion or another
For as long as consciousness reigns.

* * * *
Hope is the lie that gives comfort
To the endless pain of delusion.

* * * *
Whether aware of it or not,
We all end up where we started.

* * * *
So many worldly distractions
To entice the wavering mind.

* * * *
Heaven or hell, it doesn’t matter.
All consciousness is of the same imaginary theater
Played out in one mind or another.


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