28 August 2012

Thirty-Three


33


Human beings quarrel over this and that, and that and this,
As if anything anyone declares or does really matters
Any more than whether a river trickles or roars.
The vast mystery is what it is, has ever been, will every be,
And nothing can ever add or detract from its ultimate indivisible nature.
The only thing that is perhaps even the least bit relevant
Is our relationship with the countless things
Its infinity has made manifest,
Including ourselves.

* * * *
What are the imaginary dualities to you
Who are the fundamental awareness in all things.
You who are serene witness to all creation.
Known or unknown, done or undone,
Oblivion is your singular nature.

* * * *
Your inquiry into the ultimate vision
Creates ripples in which others
Are called to do the same.

* * * *
Who is the you who is born?
Who is the you who lives?
Who is the you who dies?

* * * *
For all its agony and ecstasy,
Existence is really come and gone
In the merest blink of any given universe.

* * * *
The true believer is hooked, lined, and sinkered.
The atheist is just as sure of his indefensible beliefs.
The agnostic wanders about quietly, freely, in all camps.

* * * *
Profound advice and counsel is really only of use
To those relative few who possess the ears to hear and eyes to see.
And if not, what is the point and purpose of huffing and puffing, howling and growling?
All anyone can really do is toss a few seeds onto what ground there is,
And allow the deaf and blind to harvest their own way.


Thirty-Two


32


A sensory theater, nothing more, nothing less.
Everything is founded on one assumption or another.
Still the mind and the whole universe dissolves into nothing.

* * * *
Far more balanced to take all transcendent metaphors figuratively.
Literal interpretations all too often miss the point and purpose entirely,
And leave in their wake endless absurdity and horror, suffering of every sort.

* * * *
Inhale … exhale … inhale … exhale …
Each breath streaming without break into the next.
Eternal, absolute, indivisible, complete, essential, every moment,
From the dawn of worldly impermanence
To its most certain end.

* * * *
Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, eons,
What are they but constructs of consciousness,
Ensnared in its own imaginary net.

* * * *
Neither forward nor backward, toward nor away,
Space-time is but a flickering of imagination,
Born of the eternal now, forever unknown.

* * * *
In the end, it shall be as it was in the beginning,
All middles, and befores, afters, and durings, too.

* * * *
What does anyone fear but their own imagination?

* * * *
There is nothing to which to worship or plead, really.
Here you are, the indivisible, trapped in a body, all alone,
Dreaming out the unfolding collusion of the human paradigm.
All religion is founded upon the ignorance of this fundamental fact.

* * * *
So many experiences, so much history, so much knowledge, so much blather.
Nothing more than the filter of imagination given daily reality,
Cloaking the ever-present now from its Self.


24 August 2012

Thirty-One


31


The daily challenge is just being in the ever-kaleidoscoping moment,
Experiencing, observing, processing the timeless immediacy
Of whatever is streaming by, both within and without,
As clearly, as exactly, as acutely as possible.
Eternal life is not for the inattentive.

* * * *
Why is it so many insist
On such a limited, confined, narrow, vain,
Perception of a divinity that often does not even include them,
And may be more than a little happy to fling them
Onto the rocks or to the wolves?
Very curious, indeed.

* * * *
How bound humankind is
By the deep dread of death and oblivion.
The movement of consciousness whirls every direction
To avoid discerning the primal essence
That is the source of all.

* * * *
We are all but reflections in each other’s universes.
Each a sovereign witness, ultimately very much alone.

* * * *
Another day of pretending, colluding, feigning,
This touchy-feely three-dimensional dreamtime real.
Another day of suiting up in the sensory cloak of illusion.

* * * *
All you think has happened never really happened.
Dreams are only dreams no matter how real they seem.
What you truly are is nothing mind can ever begin to know.

* * * *
When the engines of industry cease to run,
When the Cloud of technology inevitably evaporates,
When resources can no longer sustain the privilege they have fostered,
Those that are prepared for the worst are more likely to survive.
Hoping for the best only takes any historical epoch so far,
And at some point Old School will ascend again.
Not a question of if, but how and when.


14 August 2012

Thirty

30


The rutted mind cannot be made anew again.
The neuron grooves become too deep, too profoundly anchored
In geography, culture, creed, language, sexuality, all the shaping of time’s meandering.
No different than an ancient, weathered, craggy boulder,
A block fully carved unto its end.

* * * *
And stardust somehow came into existence.
It could never more than speculate out how it all came to be,
But rather than be happy and content not knowing,
It managed to argue, struggle and battle
Over everything imaginable
Forever more.

* * * *
Awareness, the underlying formless.

* * * *
To have a reasonably civilized,
Perhaps even happy life,
All one needs to do
Is moderate the passions,
Discipline the mind and body,
Gather in whatever needs to be known,
And live the life that calls to you.
What is so hard about that?

* * * *
The quantum mystery is you, and you are it.
You witness it, and it witnesses you.
You meditate upon its infinity,
And it upon your temporal limitation.
How could the indelible indivisibility be else?

* * * *
Dogma is for those humble enough to faithfully believe
They are the only ones worthy of some deity’s blessing.

* * * *
Perhaps humankind will some day awaken when all its memes,
All its idolatries, all its imagined deities, have failed them one too many times.
But, then again, probably not, given that the monkey-mind genome
Is so easily compromised by every sort of delusion.


Twenty-Nine

29


We may all be one at the indivisible quantum level,
But we are all still bound by the limitations of the mortal dream;
Confined in a container whose primary directive is to play the monkey-mind.
Some may completely give themselves over to perpetual agape,
But for most it is ever a moment-to-moment challenge
To resist all the passions mortal fare offers.

* * * *
We are certainly intoxicated by all our noise and busy-busy,
But zip up a few hundred meters and stillness reigns.
The unknown is not bound by blah-blah or bling.
The mystery will spin on with or without us.

* * * *
The universe is a touchy-feely mirage
Inspired by the senses, wielded by imagination.
A momentary three-dimensional play,
Nothing more, nothing less.

* * * *
In a still mind, the end of time.

* * * *
Eternity is awareness now.
Time is the wake of memory.
The future is all possible paths.
Free will looking forward,
Fate looking back.

* * * *
Only you know your own narrative,
And even that is but a vague perception
Of what may have really happened.

* * * *
Everything you have ever experienced
– People, places, things, and the myriad other –
Are all tributaries to the river down which you stream.

* * * *
Impromptu theater … nothing more … nothing less … nothing but.
The unknown playing its mystery out in any and every way
The dreamtime of imagination sets into motion.


09 August 2012

Twenty-Eight

28


Ditch the superstition.
It has always been utter nonsense,
Garbage, baloney, gobbledygook, noise, bunkum,
Absurdity, rubbish, twaddle, claptrap, poppycock, balderdash, tripe,
Malarkey, babble, gibberish, drivel, doublespeak,
Bunk, hogwash, rubbish, hot air.
So to speak.

* * * *
Everything is a story.
There are no greater or lesser stories.
All are imagined in the movement of consciousness in time.
None abide in the eternal now.

* * * *
The real mystery
Is how so many tolerate
What took place tens, hundreds,
And so often even thousands of years ago,
To regulate their existence today.
What would you be doing
If it was just you,
All alone?

* * * *
To understand death,
One must understand that living
Is in the greatest actuality
Very much the same.

* * * *
You have always been as close
To that which is god as any can be.
You just need to pay very close attention
To fathom fully that which has always been you.

* * * *
Do you truly know that for your Self,
Or is it just mindless repetition of balderdash?
Never be unduly swayed by another’s limited thinking.
Examine everything through the filter of your own discernment,
And then beyond that if it is within your capacity.
Superstition and dogma, don’t do it.