CCLXXXV
A mind without a heart is as imbalanced as a heart without a mind.
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Nothing stands in eternity longer than it can be remembered.
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And what will become of the analog mind reconfigured by its digital inventions?
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You are as free as you dare to be, and you need not prove it to anyone but your Self.
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Get a real time peek at your face if you can,
But be aware no one has ever managed it yet.
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I am That I Am-ing.
You are That I Am-ing.
We are all That I Am-ing.
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It sure seemed to hurt at the time.
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Hope generally does not get very far down the pike
Without a fair amount of double, double toil and trouble.
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It is desire and fear that harden the heart.
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Death happens in almost every conceivable way.
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Ignore nature, deny nature, condemn nature, destroy nature, at your peril.
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Add -ing to any word in the linguistics of consciousness,
And that streaming descriptor is sound’s escort
To whatever the senses are witnessing
In the kaleidoscoping weaving.
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There are no leaders or followers in the awakening game; there is only sharing.
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Nothingness is disguised by everything.
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Bean counting does not for truth make.
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You do not have to play it harsh.
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You are perfect in every way every moment of every day.
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Relative absolutism.
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A commitment to the future is a commitment to the now in a different sense of time.
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What is a sage but a good for nothing.
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The test of time is the oblivion of all.
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Only through your temporal sensory play is your version of creation made manifest.
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The end of times, or just another round beginning?
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It is all relative until you discern that it is all absolute.
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To see your real face in all other faces is of the highest order.
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The subtleties of the mystery are beyond compare.
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Where do they come up with all these numbers?
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Can the oneness in the we work things out,
Or are we but a relatively brief dream
On the stage of manifestation?
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Quit dawdling, declare your Self.
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That I Am, the only real audience.
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Another batch of memories, another stream of perceptions,
In the long and winding Yellow Brick Road of the neuron trail.
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Nothing like the gabby-jabbery folk
Who do not know what they are talking about.
Just chattering on, forever clueless.
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Personal responsibility, no can take it for you.
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Why would anyone even think
About believing in some vain, petty deity
Being in charge of humankind’s cancerous spectacle?
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The path of least resistance is an unparalleled adventure
For those rare few who have the courage and inner freedom
To wander the quantum mystery’s ever-streaming illusion.
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Most get stuck in one rut, one groove, one trap or another:
This belief or that, this relationship or that, this job or that, this geography or that.
To see the relativity of lives across the board is the highest vision.
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I am the truth, the life, and the way, and it is pretty darned likely you are, too.
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Right track, wrong road.
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The mystery of existence; such a bittersweet reality.
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Define God.
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Agape, baby, agape.
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From Pampers to Intends, and Fruit of the Loom between.
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It is in deeds that intent is proven.
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Revolution don’t pay the bills.
Shut up and keep your head down.
See nothing, hear nothing, say nothing.
Not your problem that the world is in flames.
Revolution don’t pay the bills.
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Where are you without all you think you know?
That imaginary bag of thoughts you lug around in your head.
That bundle of perceptions that deprives you of the eternity you are here now.
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There may, indeed, be intelligent design, but it is not, by any means, exclusively human.
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Sounds like another pleasant waste of time.
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Judge me, you judge your Self, for I am your creation, as you are mine.
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What is the point of healing a body if it does not touch the Soul?
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Oh, ye of little faith, why do you so vainly follow the vestiges of idolatry?
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The source of all that is known is the unknown; an amazing paradox to be sure.
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To those born to witness, this world is teacher of the wonder of their infinite totality.
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Dread is like slipping on ice, totally exhausted, unable to get up.
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Be wary of anyone offering a handshake who just exited a bathroom with dry hands.
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To discern you are of the Oneness is the Grand Knowing.
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You cannot really help someone who is unable or unwilling to help themselves.
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It means whatever you want it to mean, or nothing at all.
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The challenge in discovering truth depends largely
On how steeped the given mind is in the given lies.
Without doubt, the web of illusion is a life sentence.
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You can only measure that which is measurable.
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It is not necessary to retire from the samsara world to discern what you really are.
It is free to any and all who have the will and wit to give it full and earnest attention.
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The United States of America:
Yet another player in the win-lose game
That is humankind’s fate to again and again endure.
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Any given guru is just one of countless teachers, never the whole shebang.
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Fashion was built upon scorn for serenity and contentment.
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History is the version that rises from the fray.
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The sense of personal identity must be set aside for the eternal witness to awaken.
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It does not matter whether anyone else sees it.
The only thing that matters is that you do.
You are That I Am, there is no other
But in the play of imagination.
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Inwardly, you are as free as you allow your Self to be.
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Not much of a philosophy if you do not or cannot live it.
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The world will reflect back the answer to whatever you project.
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What you think of the world, or what the world thinks of you, what does it really matter?
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Cast aside everything, and own it.
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You can relate to the world,
But the world cannot relate to you.
You are a mystery beyond comprehension.
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The remainder of the human paradigm,
However long it may play out,
Will be walking amid the scar tissue
Of everything we have thus far conceived.
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The drifting smoke tells it all.
Eternity playing out in time and space,
Ever changing, ever graceful, ever mysterious.
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These words are for those across this spinning orb
Who discern the infinity of the oneness
In which all timelessly dance.
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In a quiet mind, the only noise is the true voice.
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Life hones knowledge, wisdom,
Perception, judgment, understanding,
Or whatever else you may call it.
All the distillation of mind
In the dream of time.
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You are forever young.
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Yet another curious thing.
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It is all a-happening in its time.
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What you discern of your Self is the patterning of the universal mind.
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All life surfs the wavelessness of this very moment.
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Expectations are the seeds of disappointment.
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Why keep looking to the quantum mirage for something it can never be?
Really nothing more than a relatively brief pretense of so-called free will.
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The given body will fall off soon enough, what is the rush to get anywhere?
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The clarity of unobstructed thought is played out streamlessly in each day’s reverie.
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There is no boundary like an old boundary.
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Imagination is the field of any given state of mind.
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It is anything you want to believe it is.
It is not anything you want to believe it is.
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It is your version of the universe, yours to play out anyway you will.
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Innocence is honed in so many ways.
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Many promises yet to be broken.
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Another label tacked onto a mystery to which all definition are incomplete.
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Any given body is nothing more than a container
In which consciousness plays its dreamy self out.
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Were concepts like heaven and hell, karma,
Created to help people cope with all their suffering?
Or to control and manipulate the them to more selfish ends?
Good chance traces of both in every way imaginable.
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Surrendering to the eternal nowness of awareness is as serene as it gets.
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Like the claws of a kitten, words can be such playfully cruel things.
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Why not do what makes you most happy, most content, most the time.
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How both tiring and exhilarating,
To always be trying to figure things out
As if necessary, or even possible.
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What does nothingness feel like, anyway?
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You are witnessed by others as you see them.
A faceless, nameless deity, if ever there was one.
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The body is the vehicle for the mystery,
The awareness, the consciousness, the Self,
To witness the unfolding eternal creation.
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Even the merest shadow of the movement of time can darken the mind.
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To see what is really going on, always look between the lines.
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Bits and pieces flowing alongside in streamtime.
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A state of mindlessness.
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What an absurd beast, pride.
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Why pretend to own anything?
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Another harbinger of doom, no doubt.
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This moment, too, is the ether of the nothingness.
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What to do when nothingness becomes the default setting.
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The grace of eternal life is in each and every breath, each and every step.
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A cosmic conspiracy is no doubt afoot for the many that harbor such pointless notions.
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Real faith, real belief, is the relinquishment of everything in any given moment.
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To be free of this body, or not, that is the choiceless choice of it.
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You must discover it totally alone.
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To neither want, nor not want.
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You are not the body, you are immortal, figure it out.
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Nothing honey.
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Nothing is all right by me.
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Every tool has its time and place.
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Every set of eyes a witness to a dream of awareness playing out consciousness.
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A full breath is the charioteer of the stillness so absolute.
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When you stop wondering, it will all come to a graceful end.
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You are Self, searching for its limits, as if such a thing were possible.
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Boggling how many different ways that which is can be expounded,
And yet remain entirely, eternally, indelibly, absolutely unknowable.
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All those experts, all those specialists, they really do not know anything, either.
And they will perhaps tell you this, if they are not playing you and your wallet.
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The Return to Wonder
Field Notes from the Unknown
© Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World Rights Reserved