CCLXXIV
What horrors will so many endure in the time so shortly coming.
Would that it had not been cast upon the unborn,
Whose fate it will be to suffer
The recalibration of the human paradigm.
Assuming, off course, any mammalian life manages to survive.
* * * *
One day, in some unforeseeable time and space,
This world will again become an undocumented garden,
From which evolving life forms will create new,
And likely less imaginative food chains.
* * * *
What questions do you really need ask, what questions do you really need answer,
Once you discern you are the undying source that ever is, has ever been, will ever be.
* * * *
Anguish and tears only feed imperious bullies to push and prod further.
Give them nothing, and odds are they will seek more entertaining targets.
* * * *
Your corporeal body is no more yours than any other material form.
An ever-streaming experiencing is all any form or concept can offer.
* * * *
If you do not admonish or punish children too severely
About something you would prefer not be done,
Chances are they will either figure it out, or get bored,
And will not do whatever it is more than a relatively few more times.
We all tend to move on and on and on in our ever-kaleidoscoping quantum dream.
* * * *
Any given mind can only pay so much attention to the ever-unfolding dreamscape.
Giving it a rest to randomly flutter about occasionally helps keep thing in perspective.
* * * *
Do you really suppose anything you have ever said or done
Has really changed anything in any significant way?
Or did it merely fill the time, occupy the mind?
* * * *
The big picture is all mu, anywho.
* * * *
How large would your universe be if you could not see the stars?
* * * *
What a barrier to reality, even the most subtle judgment.
* * * *
You will never again see things quite the same as you do this unfolding moment.
* * * *
You are a one-time-only show.
The price of admission: Death.
* * * *
Those with a penchant to wonder at history’s unfolding
Can only speculate whether the very young and those yet unborn
Will continue to withstand the same avaricious paradigm
That catapulted them into a dystopian Eden.
* * * *
Brothers, sisters, pat yourselves on the back, or slap yourselves across the face.
Quite a show we have all together fashioned in this unfathomable here and now.
* * * *
Fleeting visions, fleeting sounds, fleeting tastes, fleeting smells, fleeting sensations.
Everything you once believed so real, now so tentative, so transitory, so ephemeral.
* * * *
You are not going to see what you are not looking for in the wrong direction.
* * * *
Legalistic, schmegalistic.
* * * *
That is the time of it.
* * * *
Oh, indeed, indeed, guaranteed, a not very pretty time is in the very near offing.
* * * *
Tough to be humble with so much applause tickling the vanity.
* * * *
When it comes to instinct to propagate,
Human beings really have little more restraint
Than any other earthling great to small.
* * * *
One moment must die for the next to begin; that means you, dingus.
* * * *
A recollection imprinted just a few moments ago
Is really no different than one yesterday,
Or even one spanning decades.
Just neurons recording perceptions,
Not all that different than any processor,
Though in all probability, not near as accurate.
* * * *
Life has shaped you, molded you, into whatever you are perceiving right now.
* * * *
Another blank stare of a vacuous mind.
* * * *
The trouble with living it up is the downer almost sure to follow.
* * * *
What there is to discern prior to any face is the same for everyone and everything.
* * * *
Very challenging for anyone to let go all the natter they think they know.
* * * *
Pride triggered the fall from the grace of Eden.
* * * *
Truly, your best friend is a good, full breath.
* * * *
Why do you keep looking to your death and beyond to reunify with your maker?
* * * *
Time, it doeth sprint, timeless.
* * * *
An asymmetrical mind may be the most balanced adaptation consciousness can devise.
* * * *
Too busy, too absorbed being you, to even for a few moments awaken to the vision
That it is nothing more than a touchy-feely, indivisible, timeless, immeasurable dream.
* * * *
Curious that what you really need,
Or what you really want, often just sort of happens.
To need, or not to need, to want, or not to want, those are the questions.
* * * *
Let go of the fallaciousness, and you will be you.
* * * *
Death is merely release from the world’s fell grip.
* * * *
Do not allow ignorance to overrun you.
* * * *
Repeat this experiment
With your own mind,
And you will discern the truth
To which these thoughts are pointing.
It is only esoteric to those lacking inner vision.
* * * *
Your universe is your family, your friend, your lover,
Your opponent, your persecutor, and eventually, your executioner.
Self is, indeed, narcissistic in every way imaginable.
* * * *
Discerning the nature of the source is much more a matter
Of disentangling one’s own imagination than it is anything other.
* * * *
Pass it on, on the off chance that you are more than very likely
Not the only one whose fate, whose providence it is to awaken.
* * * *
You are the synergy of the real revolution.
* * * *
You are, indeed, being watched, by your Self.
* * * *
To be absolutely fearless, you must be your Self every moment of every day.
* * * *
The pretense of poverty is a joke the priesthoods play on their sheep again and again.
* * * *
So driven, and for what, to what, really?
* * * *
At some point, vanity will meet its Piper somewhere along the Yellow Brick Road.
* * * *
Drugs are tools, teachers, friends,
That can help unlock and reveal the dream.
But one needs to be moderate, disciplined in their use.
Better for addictive personalities to hang with a cup of water or tea.
* * * *
To witness the human species
Play out this mystery theater so foolishly
Is akin to watching your horse lose, or your dog die.
* * * *
What genetic lines will survive, much less thrive, after the Great Fall?
* * * *
There is only one teacher, and it is everyone and everything.
* * * *
Players only mimic the real thing.
* * * *
The real work is being you, in whatever way you incline.
* * * *
You are only as free as your thoughts allow.
* * * *
Into the death of sleep, little self subsides, awareness abides.
* * * *
The patter of a quantum mind drifting in time.
* * * *
This paradigm, such a tragedy in the making.
* * * *
What lies beneath any beautiful mask
Is really not at all different than what is beneath any unappealing one.
Beauty is, has always been, and will ever be,
In the eye of the beholder.
* * * *
In the big picture, what all these thoughts are really about,
Is to help free you to be the me-my-Self-and-I
You really are, have always been,
And will ever be.
* * * *
All the things about which you might feel regret
Played a part in getting you to this moment.
Apologize to your Self, and let them go.
* * * *
Pleasure seems to be relative to circumstance.
Pain is pretty much straight across the board.
* * * *
Every moment is the same; it is only imagination that invents very possible difference.
* * * *
We are all ultimately anonymous, no matter how well known.
* * * *
The reality you call reality is not the reality that is timelessly indivisible,
But you have to pretend it is to play out the allotted mind-body dream.
* * * *
The last doubt dissolves into the grand reality.
* * * *
The only real difference between some women and black widows
Is how quickly they extract the life out of their unfortunate mates.
* * * *
All creatures great and small includes you, too, you know.
* * * *
How different our relationship, our kinship,
With this phenomenal garden planet might have been
If the shimmering dreaming of gold so false
Had not caught our wayward minds.
* * * *
Transfixed by our imagination,
Madly consuming the future’s inheritance,
We idyllically drift, sure and steady, towards the abyss.
* * * *
Grass root revolutions may take a little longer,
But with roots strong enough to hold futures firm.
* * * *
There is, perchance, light beyond the dread.
* * * *
Curiosity may not only have killed the cat,
It may well be what is keeping you here.
* * * *
You think the potholes are bad now, just give it another ten to fifty or so years.
* * * *
You may play it good, you may play it evil, you may play it somewhere between,
But when the stage empties, when the lights go out, when the hall falls quiet,
It will always be the same awareness dancing alone, timelessly indivisible.
* * * *
Continuity is a dualistic, illusory, delusional notion,
To which most human minds spontaneously, hypnotically collude.
The power of suggestion is much, much stronger than you might wish to believe.
* * * *
Whether through the meander of words,
Music, numbers, silence, or any other medium,
Every attribute existence can tender is yet another portal
Through which to mull over this ineffable mystery.
* * * *
Just another part to be played.
Somebody had to do it,
And why not you?
* * * *
Vast theater that it ever appears to be,
There is really no spectacle, there are really no players,
But the so very many that you cast in mind.
* * * *
Yay oh yay, yet another random day.
* * * *
Even with all your horrific, demonic failings,
Since she only sees the ten-year-old you once were,
Your mother more than likely still loves you.
* * * *
What kind of existence is it to be so filled with insatiable avarice,
That you would perhaps do anything to slake the ceaseless thirst?
* * * *
Watch and wait, it will all happen soon enough.
* * * *
No dogma required.
* * * *
What is food today is only piss and gas and shit tomorrow.
* * * *
Imagination is always running away with itself.
* * * *
The other, it is all out there, doing what you cannot control.
* * * *
Pure awareness is neither smile nor frown.
* * * *
Infinity, what is that anyway?
* * * *
Kicking the world out of your mind is not easy, but it’s not hard, either.
* * * *
Is it death, or merely not being confined to a body anymore?
* * * *
What now?
* * * *
If you are talking differences, you are not talking truth.
* * * *
When has any self-help book ever helped you for long?
* * * *
Are you complete yet?
* * * *
Desire not, fear not.
* * * *
Waste time? How can something that does not exist be wasted?
* * * *
What is food today is shit tomorrow.
* * * *
Who’s the alien here?
* * * *
The quantum source abides all.
* * * *
Is anyone ever really who you think they are?
* * * *
Yet another case of something happened.
* * * *
What is nationalism but tribalism on steroids.
* * * *
What is retirement but the last vacation.
* * * *
Words are only as meaningful as they are read.
* * * *
Better you than me.
* * * *
Dogma free.
* * * *
Outside your memory, does anyone or anything really exist?
* * * *
To become or not to become, that is the question.
* * * *
What notion can a dream long harbor?
* * * *
Flesh can only lie so long.
* * * *
All else is imagination.
* * * *
Same old monkey.
* * * *
To believe totally in nothing is the realm of the no-mind.
* * * *
Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!
* * * *
It is probably not about you.
* * * *
The pittering-pattering of every mind,
Every moment further muddies up the world,
Inexorably caught up in the destiny of consciousness.
* * * *
That most primal thing, fear, has been key in molding this imaginary you,
A conditioned identity that you every day wake up believing real and true.
A state of mind, a state of attachment, a sword by which you live and die.
* * * * * * * * * *
The Return to Wonder
Field Notes from the Unknown
© Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World Rights Reserved