CCLXVIII
Partake all the vain, dualistic fabrications 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, dualistic 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 indivisible 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 is calling, and you have nowhere to go,
There is always nothing to do,
Guaranteed.
* * * *
How can all the banal high school intrigues,
The dramas, the countless absurdities of this dream world
Not lose their gratuitous allure at some point?
* * * *
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, agonizingly sluggish, wheezing exhale of a breath,
There is always an adventure waiting for imagination to give it a go.
* * * *
Another king of geekdom.
* * * *
There is really nothing you can prove, need prove, to any other.
You, witness, eternally alone, are ample proof, 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 mind-body, a world, a cosmos, that does not really exist?
Perhaps that candid insight, that deep realization is truly the only grace worth saving.
* * * *
There is 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 dream it possible.
* * * *
Any history is only as accurate and enduring
As minds that lend themselves to its recollection.
* * * *
The body is unconcerned what it consumes,
As long as its essential biological needs are met.
The mind, however, can romp 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.
* * * *
If you discern it, great; if not, oh well, go in peace,
And sally forth through your dream of finite vision.
* * * *
Who is not normal in their own dream?
* * * *
The Buddha mind, so simple to fathom that few ever do.
* * * *
You are a pretender, just like everyone else.
* * * *
Beingness is the nectar of awareness.
* * * *
Challenging not to perish in the same saddle in which you have ridden out your dream.
* * * *
When the mind moves, when the neurons fire,
Agony and ecstasy ripple to and fro across the stage.
* * * *
You do not have to care; you do not have to pretend.
You do not have to want; you do not have to fear.
You do not have to acquiesce to 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 do not really know anything.
If you pretend you do, you may fool others,
But, ultimately, you really only hoodwink 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.
* * * *
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 numerous outcomes, whether premeditated or fortuitous,
That have unfolded in the moment-to-moment.
* * * *
There are, have been, and will be as many universes
As there are bubbles 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.
* * * *
Thou art a good villain.
* * * *
Evaporate into solitude.
* * * *
Herein, nothing is realized.
* * * *
You witness the play of time and space
Through whatever container the genetic lottery allots.
Each and every one unique, each a one-time momentary opportunity
To, in every way imaginable, wander and watch the eternally indelible 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 fundamental source of all things.
No dogma, no creed, no idolatrous notion is required.
To assert any canon is necessary is a lie,
No matter how well framed.
* * * *
In the end, whenever it comes, it will be known by those, if any, still standing,
That humankind outbred the world’s capacity for avarice and self-absorption.
* * * *
Are absurdity and insanity normal?
* * * *
We give it countless names, but, in truth, how can there be more than one abyss?
* * * *
One of the many favorite things to do.
* * * *
The more attached you are, the more you will suffer; it is not rocket science.
* * * *
Does what we call time move forward or backward or sideways or up or down?
Or does the manifest simply, timelessly, spontaneously, emanate in awareness?
* * * *
If there were supreme deity, surely humankind would be on the fast track to oblivion,
Unless, of course, he/she/it really was remarkably amused by all the pointless absurdity.
* * * *
Join with others for whatever reasons you please, but do not for even one moment
Imagine yourself or your chosen group ultimately superior in any way to any other’s.
Might may make right or wrong, but in the quantum eye, all things are quite equal.
* * * *
Of course you can believe whatever you please,
But do not deceive your Self that your confabulation
It is at all different than anyone else’s gray-matter chatter.
* * * *
What an arrogant species to believe it is the exclusive rhyme and reason
To that which is very much the same essence within all things great to small.
* * * *
Every mind is sovereign unto its Self.
* * * *
All are a-wandering the dusty trail to one dusty end or another.
* * * *
Journeying back to the future.
* * * *
The quantum abyss, indivisibly cloaked in every form, held firm by gravity,
Plays out the illusion of time and space, and the mind into which it is born.
* * * *
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 your version of the infinite nada.
* * * *
It is only the perception of separation that inclines you to give the mystery any name.
Once the essence of what all things truly are, and are not, is discerned,
What name, what sound, is there to give it but your own.
* * * *
What a constant distraction the body, and all its sensory and chemical reactions.
* * * *
It is the same Way that has been seen through many eyes come before,
And it will be the same Way that will be seen through many eyes hence.
* * * *
Life is for amateurs.
* * * *
So much monkey business.
* * * *
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.
* * * *
All consciousness is of the same imaginary process,
Played out equally in one quantum mind-body or another.
* * * *
How often does either/or really exist in the gray of relativity?
* * * *
The only absolute is absoluteness itself.
* * * *
Much of aging is about wrestling with consequences.
* * * *
Forever moot.
* * * *
Whatever you may think of death, it is an inevitable fact.
* * * *
Where is the world, where is the universe, if you do not remember it.
* * * *
Whatever hope there was, washed away in the pain.
* * * *
Eternity is no more than a heartbeat away.
* * * *
So many things that so many think matter that do not, never did, never will.
* * * *
Let us not quibble over details lest we splinter into vain and dogmatic interlude.
* * * *
Been there, done that.
* * * *
The Fates are indifferent to yours.
* * * *
DNA weary.
* * * *
Embrace the meaninglessness; embrace the purposelessness.
* * * *
Oh, very Tao, what will you leave us this time?
* * * *
We all suffer from one variety of miasma or another.
* * * *
Necessity is perhaps the greatest teacher.
* * * *
There is no word of god, only the words of men.
* * * *
In the never-changing, change is.
* * * *
Sometimes, nothing sounds good.
* * * *
The challenge is to not be your own worst enemy.
* * * *
You are the mystery.
* * * *
Hope for the best; plan for the worst.
* * * *
The movement that is; the stillness that is not.
* * * *
The dark in the light, the light in the dark, the seeds of each in all.
* * * *
If it is not all about you, who, pray tell, is it about?
* * * *
Yet another celebrate-your-trophy moment.
* * * *
Alas and oh well.
* * * *
The imaginary Me-Myself-and-I awakens again.
* * * *
There is absolutely no question, not doubt, no uncertainty,
That the absurdity will continue in one oblique fashion or another,
For as long as the theater of human consciousness reigns.
* * * * * * * * * *
The Return to Wonder
Field Notes from the Unknown
© Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World Rights Reserved