CCLXXVIII
We all breathe the same, we all bleed the same.
‘Tis a never-ending curiosity how so many superficial differences
Weigh us all down in so many imaginary ways
So much of the time
During our so-brief little lives.
* * * *
Rewind … a few minutes, a few years,
A few decades, a few centuries, a few millennia,
And ponder what humankind might have done differently
To witness a kinder, more harmonious paradigm.
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Mere mortals can never even hope
In their wildest dreams to comprehend
The immeasurable that all truly are.
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Any given life is a mortal journey that wanders until the last step of the last breath.
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If it is yours to find, you will find it.
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How awake is awake? As awake as awake can get.
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What credentials could possibly be required of a seer to know s/he sees?
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Dear Lord Almighty God is Great and True Above,
Is there an arm or leg or back that is not tattooed? A tongue that is not pierced?
What a curious thing how many young and restless follow the herd
In their vain attempt to declare independence.
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In manifest reality, you need not love any other
As much as just respect and accept them.
Or, maybe, that, alone, is love enough.
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Be wary of all who would seek to lead you.
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Such a tailspin really only just beginning,
We cannot yet begin to predict or comprehend
Where the wreckage will settle, and who will survive.
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For what it is worth, it is the virtue, the quality of your Soul
That is most valued by those with the heart and mind to see.
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If you are ever to discern heaven, you must do it in the given nowness.
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Alas, you cannot help your Self when there is nothing left to help.
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Miscreants and deviants all; a hangman’s work, indeed.
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The witless herd cannot help its Self.
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Every moment an opportunity to witness the unfolding dream of manifest time.
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No matter the stream of consciousness, behind every mask, the same awareness.
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Is it a creation misspent if there is no awakening
For those who seem, as yet, ill-fated to doze away
Through the remainder of this theater of eternity?
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As enjoyable as young flesh is to watch,
Would you ever really want to be
Young and stupider again?
* * * *
Pathetic is too mild a word
For the horrors the human species
Has set in motion, and is about to endure.
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The madness that is literally divine
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The tirade of indifference.
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Behave your Self.
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And there they all are thinking their dick or pussy
Is the best the world has the offer.
Silly boys, silly girls.
* * * *
Loyalty to bloodline, genetically pragmatic as it may be, is more conditioned than real.
* * * *
Cynicism, kept to paper and pen, remains relatively anonymous and harmless.
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Every moment dull and magnificent in each and every unfolding moment.
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You are the bush burning in the desert.
Swept by the elements of earth and wind and water and fire.
Into the madness that is eternally divine.
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How faithful you are to your imagined conclusions.
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Oh yes, indeed, the world will no doubt one day rid itself of the human stain.
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The key is yours, and yours alone.
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Self trumps all.
* * * *
Sheesch!
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Does it really matter?
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Insanity hath no bounds.
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Does it not just boil down to respecting and accepting another’s differences?
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Samadhi: A state
Of intense concentration achieved through meditation.
In Hindu yoga this is regarded as the final stage,
At which union with the divine is reached.
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Odds are you’re an innie or outie; curious what a fuss our kind makes of it.
* * * *
Another day of pipe-dreaming reflection.
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There is total virtuousness within you,
But you are too full of desire, too full of fear,
To freely give yourself over to your Self.
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What endless potential the flesh has over time evolved to foster so many inanities.
* * * *
Post the truth of it in an unsealed letter postmarked “Eternity.”
* * * *
Good joke, man, you make me laugh plenty ha-ha hard.
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All is eternally, indivisibly, absolutely connected.
All unfolds as it will in the etherealness of awareness.
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The oneness of all things small to great, ever is, has ever been, will ever be.
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Immortality is born anew each and every moment.
The theater of time and space are the mortal exchange.
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The cause of nearly every difficulty humankind is facing is overpopulation.
Get back to the natural rhymes and reasons of the quintessence,
And perceive the eternal reality of its quantum origin.
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How is the wild, untamable beast of a world doing
In the mortal framework of your mind’s dimension?
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Four-letter words better left unspoken include:
Love, hate, hope, true, good, just, luck,
Wish, fate, must, pink, cute …
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The busy-ness of this world is a siren ever-beckoning
All who would hear its call to tarry in its time and space.
* * * *
Curious how those thin layers of flaking dead cells,
And strands of protein filament we call hair,
Tempt us all over and over again.
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To you whose minds are dominated
By one sense of political correctness or another,
Take a good deep breath, and get over it.
* * * *
Oh, ye, who wouldst pummel
All others into submission
With one good book or another,
You are, indeed, of tiring persuasion.
* * * *
A 24-hour world misses out on a good night’s sleep.
What is it that drives so many into such sleep-deprivation?
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Glory is less in deed than it is the breath to which the grand mystery is subscribed.
* * * *
Amazing what can be gotten away with when you fake and bluff things well.
* * * *
What a wearing burden it is to be holding on to all those opinions,
All those innumerable judgments, about yourself or any other.
* * * *
Uh oh, yet another tsunami spotted on the not too distant horizon.
* * * *
Unrecognizable memory.
* * * *
Can you see yourself then?
* * * *
You only think it happened.
* * * *
The mind-body is a time machine.
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Ye gods, another religious fairy tale.
* * * *
Rare is the time when politicians and bureaucrats
Have not inflicted great misery and bother
Upon one little person or another.
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So many things about which to feel regret and remorse,
But oh well … get over them, deal with them, move beyond them,
Let such resounding futility dissipate into the mists of long-faded memories.
* * * *
Some laws are bigger than concepts can comprehend.
* * * *
Just another protozoa passively floating on the tide.
* * * *
Change may suck bigger than big-time,
But it is the indivisible underpinning of all creation,
From which all things are fashioned.
* * * *
Psychic vampires will nibble away at any neck freely offered.
* * * *
Tap into it.
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Do nothing well.
* * * *
Is there karma to be paid if you do not get caught?
Are the guilty judged, and who judges them
If they feel neither guilt nor shame?
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Amazing how well organized religion can screw up anything it touches.
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Where is that line between good and evil, right and wrong, light and dark, anyway?
* * * *
Why do you limit god to being just “up there?”
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You must ultimately battle your dragons on your own; rip back the fear, kill the beast.
* * * *
Another happy-yes-there-is-hope-out-there-somewhere ending.
* * * *
Picture the Titanic racing across the Atlantic, and the final seconds
Before the iceberg begins ripping through the paper-thin hull
The lookouts crying out, “Iceberg ahead! Iceberg ahead!”
And no one hears them because the cacophony
Is too absorbing, too enticing, too blinding,
To make the paradigm shift required
For all to survive the sinking.
Now, what are you going to do
To survive the relatively few moments ahead,
And, if you do survive, to make certain it does not happen again.
* * * *
Looking back, is it not obvious all the ways you were conditioned
To be the who-what-where-when-why-how you daily pretend to be.
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Hey, good luck with that.
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Like rings in a tree.
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It is time.
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It is all Self-evident.
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There are worse forms madness can take than to wake up to the reality of the way it is.
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You frighten yourself with all that miscued imagination.
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Most everything eventually distills, translates, into wisdom.
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Tap those Ruby Red Slippers, and keep repeating:
There's no place like home, there's no place like home …
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Even in the pretensions of the so-called civilized world,
The law of the jungle, of club and fang, always applies.
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Racing the clock all the time.
Day-in-day-out, every moment, racing, racing, racing.
Alice’s white rabbit if there ever was one.
What a burden upon the mind,
A veil upon the Soul.
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What fear will you endure this day?
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Is it even possible for any history to ever be exactly written?
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It is your dream, what are you making of it?
* * * *
Nothing needs doing.
* * * *
Kick-start that frontal lobe.
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And if we destroy our kind,
If we drive ourselves to extinction,
Even if we obliterate all life on this planet,
Oh well.
Really, oh well.
Why should you care?
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To be so narcissistically self-absorbed
As to believe the world owes you anything,
Now, that’s arrogance, pure and simple.
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Understand the difference between mind and body and spirit,
And learn to detach from that attachment that causes suffering.
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What is it you think can be saved that was ever you or yours in the first place?
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Regarding the maze you meander in your mind, always feel free to take a sit.
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Histories often whitewash truth, and even more often wash it away completely.
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Imagination is the creator of all.
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Taking the world personal is the first and last error.
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The busy mind loves a conspiracy.
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Same stage, different universes.
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Truth or idolatry, you choose.
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It seemed a priority at the time.
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Awaken to your mind’s content.
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The odds nail everyone to a cross of their own making.
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Imagination is all.
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You are, you have always been, you will ever be, if time was real, that is.
* * * *
All the clever things we just have to say and do.
* * * *
Does the world, the universe, exist if you give it no thought?
How can time and space and all it many facades
Ever find home in the no-mind?
* * * *
Pleasure and pain are different sides of the same coin,
With just about the same probability in the long haul.
* * * *
Are you able, are you willing,
At least in the here-and-there-every-once-and-awhile,
To boot your world, your universe,
Out of your head?
* * * *
To remain still and clear, even in the most turbulent winds,
The most absurd, intolerable, rancorous moments,
Is indeed one of life’s greater challenges.
Even the most enlightened, most awakened gurus,
Surely roll their eyes and grind their teeth every now and then.
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The Return to Wonder
Field Notes from the Unknown
© Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World Rights Reserved