CCLXXXVI
The depth and breadth to which any scenario can be known
Is, for all practical purposes, nearly inexhaustible,
And no mind, as grasping as it may be,
Can ever experience it all.
A statistical sample will have to do.
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What is the ultimate point of existence but a means to discern and reflect
Upon the source of all creation, upon the awareness, the Self all truly are.
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Fate wears a sensory harness.
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Another voice from the void, and whose voice, pray tell, has it always really been?
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The body politic.
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That curious thing called time: Where did it go? Did it ever even exist?
Has any of it ever really been anything more than an ineffable dream?
* * * *
You are caught up in the sticky web of delusion
Because you would rather live out a lie
Than face the truth squarely.
* * * *
In the grand play of consciousness,
You are as young as the day you were born.
All time in the mind is the illusion born of imagination.
* * * *
All those little hoards of gold and piles of material possessions
Are not going to do any ill-fated descendants much good
If there is no world in which to spend or use them.
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Below the radar, boys and girls, stay below the radar.
* * * *
Of course there is one god, one source, call it what you will,
And we, and all creatures great to small, are all equally of it.
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There are far worse dreams than Self.
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It all boils down to this moment; such is the nothingness playing out time.
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No brag, just fact.
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Om out.
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As it is for you, it is for every one.
* * * *
Who is who?
What is what?
Where is where?
When is when?
Why is why?
How is how?
* * * *
Life, do not get too attached to it.
* * * *
It is up to you to figure out your universe on your own as best you can.
* * * *
You will move until you are content enough to be still.
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It may be less about being who you are, than being what you are and are not.
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How was it that you were never taught, never encouraged, to love your true Self?
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Even godness doesn’t know how it ends … for now.
* * * *
Peace allows the heart to grow larger.
* * * *
It is a curious thing, is it not,
That no life form across the universe
Has ever viewed its own face.
* * * *
My god, but we do quibble over such nonsensical blather.
* * * *
There is no rise without a fall; that is a statistical certitude.
* * * *
Remind me again, is it remember to forget, or forget to remember?
* * * *
In play.
* * * *
Such a bad joke.
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Continuity is the illusion of imagination.
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Love your Self, and nothing else will really matter.
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All we are is the imagination of consciousness attached to it dream of self.
* * * *
Are you a conscious identity passing through time and space,
Or awareness witnessing a sensory mirage, imagining itself real.
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Yes being no to some, and no, yes to others, pretty much sums up the course of history.
* * * *
A curious truth about consciousness
Is that what seems so clearly obvious to one mind
May make absolutely no sense to another.
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Is a volcano any more than a zit erupting on yet another face?
* * * *
You daily pretend this identity, and what, pray tell, for?
* * * *
All these labels for things, large and small, that we will never even once see.
* * * *
No matter where, no matter when,
Each and every part and particle
Across this entire timeless hologram,
Is of the same indivisible, absolute oneness.
* * * *
Is a beautiful gold ring about the ring, or the gold from which it is made?
* * * *
You are bound to samsara by your attachment to the senses,
And the endless assortment of thoughts they bring to mind.
* * * *
There are a number of mindsets that more than others
Are harbors of separation and divisiveness and ignorance.
* * * *
Every life form is a solitary witness, but few are aware of their infinite nature.
* * * *
What torment the body has gone through to harbor you.
Never hurts to give it a reprieve from all your vain silliness.
* * * *
You are not anything that sounds thickly laden with concept
Can ever even for an infinitesimal trace of a moment create.
* * * *
All any indivisible one can do is make every effort to pay attention
To the ephemeral moment as much as the given mind will allow.
* * * *
The faces and names may change, but the dream is ever the same.
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Are you facing death, or is death facing you?
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Embrace all, release all.
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So much suffering, and for what?
* * * *
To keep from fillin’, ya gots to keep spillin’.
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Observe the relativity of all things, until you discern the absoluteness of all things.
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Why should you ever dread the truth of what you really are and are not?
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Without so-called goodness, so-called evil would be unable to measure its successes.
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The awareness prior to consciousness is there to be discerned
In every single moment that any given mind choicelessly attends.
* * * *
How can all your traditions, all you rituals, all your superstitions,
Ever allow you to exist in the freedom of the unfolding present?
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Find the tabula rasa of the stillness within.
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Say no to yourself, and yes to your Self.
* * * *
You will reappear until you decipher
You are neither mind nor body nor role
But through your inattentive volition.
* * * *
How long will you continue the lie?
* * * *
To become as vulnerable as a flower basking in the sun, is as simple as it gets.
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Be anonymous within and without.
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Eternal salvation is not what you think.
* * * *
Ahh, the eternal bliss, discerned again.
* * * *
A mind beyond all boundaries is all it can be.
* * * *
Given the choice, would you want to be born again,
In another body, another time, another geography?
* * * *
Every given life form must play out its mortal fate in the theater of time.
* * * *
Technology cannot save you from that which you most dread.
* * * *
In your ultimate nature, you are neither male nor female.
* * * *
Political peace is founded on power and control.
Inner peace on the choice to surrender to one’s Self.
* * * *
Death is nothing more than the mortal shell falling away,
And the essence as still and immortal as it has ever been.
* * * *
All dreams, in any heavens, any hells,
Are born of the same inexplicable source.
There is no other but through ignorance.
* * * *
It is the scriptures that are relevant, not the religions that usurp them.
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You need only see it to be it.
* * * *
Prior to all labels, you are.
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Heaven is a hard-won hell.
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To whom would you ever deny this?
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Status quo may not be the best place stand.
* * * *
You were perchance born to awaken, and live time’s every moment anew.
* * * *
If you are not attuned, if you are not in harmony with the rhythms of Mother Nature,
Then you are against her one and only mode, and she does not long tolerate fools.
* * * *
You are not required to be a victim of the given mind.
The challenge is not allowing it to ever happen again.
* * * *
Forget everything as often as mind allows.
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All manifestation is you in one form or another.
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Morality is nothing more than an arbitrary fabrication of mind.
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Free, at last.
* * * *
What say ye, Pilgrim?
* * * *
Where is the beginning of you? Where is the ending?
* * * *
The planet needs for humankind
To tone down its cancerous behavior,
And far, far too few are listening.
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The other is only there for you to discern That which you really are and are not.
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Wandering the blade of irony and paradox.
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A matrix by any other name would play the same.
* * * *
It seems real until it becomes obvious it is not.
And once you see it, you are like a burning bush.
* * * *
Discussing god over café mochas and lattes is not without irony.
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From chaos, order, and from order, chaos.
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They who are samsara cannot see you, and they who discern you are made real.
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Why would the judgment of any other possibly matter to that which sees all.
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Whatever infinity is or is not, you are.
* * * *
And after all is said and done, you are all that is left, wandering dreamtime.
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What were they thinking?
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What is left to entice you into the samsara of your mind?
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Wander beyond the limits of any other.
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The aliens have landed, and they are we.
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Do you really care, or merely feel like you should?
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All you really have is this ephemeral now.
You are not what you think.
Let go of time.
Your are the eternal mystery.
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We as a species have not really even begun to use the mind to its fullest potential.
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The weakest, the slowest, the diminished, all set limits on whatever will happen.
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Being born again has nothing to do
With this small-minded theater of consciousness.
The imaginary personality is not that of which herein is spoken.
* * * *
Any mind’s potential is far more than a bastion of useless trivia and worldly pursuits.
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Samadhi breath.
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Money makes the world go round, money makes the world go down.
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Straddling the abyss in so many ways.
* * * *
As if you had any say in the matter.
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Just another corpse waiting to happen.
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What is time and space but a function of memory cells.
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What incredible stress self-loathing places upon the mind-body-spirit.
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All life is a vast collection of seeds born of the same essence.
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Reality is in the still immediacy prior to consciousness.
* * * *
A pathless path as clear as awareness its Self.
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Harmony is in every streaming moment, the only now there has ever really been.
* * * *
Astounding all the things you have known and forgotten, and you ain’t dead yet.
* * * *
Memes die hard.
* * * *
True love of Self is the inescapable potential of any given life.
* * * *
How could your version of the universe have existed before you created it?
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The You that you really are is all you really need.
* * * *
Total madness, or the sanest thing you will ever imagine?
* * * *
Physical death will come
In a passing moment not unlike this one.
It has nothing to do with you.
Be not proud.
* * * *
It all boils down to this ephemeral, singular moment.
Each and every now flowing seamlessly into the next.
And that is all any thing, any one really is, and is not.
* * * * * * * * * *
The Return to Wonder
Field Notes from the Unknown
© Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World Rights Reserved