12 July 2012

Nine


9


Your proud, relatively brief mortal existence is naught but an infinitesimal scratch on a linear timeline
Born of an immeasurable mystery, by whatever metaphor you might choose to describe it:
Creation, genesis, big bang, or turtles all the way down, turtles all the way up.
Stardust playing out a paradigm invoked by the happenstance of human consciousness.

* * * *
What if Jesus had actually written down his thoughts?
What did he really say? What did he really do? What did he really mean?
Would it have even been close to what so many now believe?
And what would he say about all done in his name
If he were somehow to show up again?
Probably be too embarrassed,
Even if he could.

* * * *
What a challenge for the mind evolved of time
To be completely attentive, totally engaged to the given moment,
The moment that has always been, and will ever be,
Exactly as it is, right here, right now.

* * * *
Nobody learns but through discipline and diligence.
No teacher can teach a student unwilling to learn.

* * * *
Is a wave a wave, or is it water?
Is a beach a beach, or sand?
Is a bracelet a bracelet, or gold?
Is anything its ephemeral appearance,
Or the quantum matrix in which all forms dance?

* * * *
Forget everything, and the awareness is all that remains.

* * * *
Despite all your self-absorbed notions about being superior,
You and any given piece of shit are made up of the same star dust.
Pride is the cradle of great downfalls; humility, the modesty that endures.

* * * *
Why pretend to know what can never be known?
What point is there to faith in some imaginary deity, some heaven,
If you cannot even manage to perceive the eternity playing out before your very eyes?