29 July 2015

Preface


Greetings,

This is the blog for the second published book of aphorisms titled "The Ponderings of Yaj Ekim.”  Each post is one of 501 pages, and can be accessed by clicking through older and newer posts at the bottom of each page, or by searching through the blog archives in the sidebar.

A 505-page PDF copy can be downloaded at:

“The Stillness Before Time” is the original 53-page work that was published in 1992, including mostly aphorisms, a few essays, and lists of movies and books.  Though a self-published version can be purchased at major booksellers, a downloadable copy is available, no charge, at the website below.  There are also a variety of links to several Facebook pages, Twitter, a number of blogs, and links to other very powerful writings of the same ilk.

The Stillness Before Time

A recently edited and expanded 53-page PDF copy can be downloaded at:

“Breadcrumbs” is a blog of a more personal nature than the others, including the most recent aphorisms, a life resume, a photo album, some duplicates of essays and lists previously published, and other this-and-that silliness that has come to mind over time.  All just to show I was a living, breathing, relativity mundane, oftentimes foolish mortal, same as everyone else.  No need to make me more than I was.  No need for legends, no need for myths, no need for fables, no need for miracles, no need for any fictions to which history has so often given itself.  This collection of thoughts is as full of the limited and arbitrary as anything else born of space and time, so please do not shape it into some dogmatic lunacy.  Use it as a launch pad, not an orbit.

Breadcrumbs

A 1216-page PDF can be downloaded at:

And the latest blogging unpublished elsewhere:

Breadcrumbs: The Unfolding Next Round

“The Return to Wonder” blog is a compendium of aphorisms not included in the three other works: The Stillness Before Time, The Ponderings of Yaj Ekim, and Breadcrumbs.  It totals 3,000 pages formatted in 300 ten-page chapters written since 1990-ish.  It has been uploaded beginning with Chapter 265 up to Chapter 1, followed by Chapter 266 up to 300.

The Return to Wonder

Writing has been an enjoyable process ever since I began toying with prose, keeping journals, and corresponding with friends during the college daze.  The philosophical / mystical / whatever-you-want-to-call-them thoughts that started popping into mind since 1989 have always been very out-of-the-blue spontaneous.  Nothing forced about them.  They are being shared on the off chance that others may find them of interest, though, quite frankly, it really does not matter if no one else ever even reads them, for I am first and foremost my own audience.  I got mine, so to speak, and it is, as it has ever been, up to each to discern their own on their own.  There are really no followers in the ultimate quest, only earnest seekers who waylay their desires and fears enough to discern that which is end to all doubt.  “Yay” if it is your fate to figure it out.  “Oh well” if it is not.  And “so it goes” either way, really.

Please note that this sort of wordplay is very random; all but impossible to put into any rational order. Probably best read it in bits and pieces in the here and there.  One of those open-to-any-page works.  Especially well-suited for coffee shops, coffee tables, and porcelain thrones.

Please also note that all writings are subject to editing without notice, so re-downloading PDF copies every year or so may be a good idea if you want the most current version.  This applies especially to Breadcrumbs, which is likely an ongoing work until a few minutes or hours or daze before the last wheezing breath.

If you find these many thoughts at all relevant, please feel free to share them with others who might also appreciate them, else they will more quickly slip back into the timeless oblivion from whence they came.

All the best,

M

P.S.  Regarding the name Yaj Ekim ... It is just a reverse spelling on the first and middle names ... Michael Jay Holshouser ... Mike Jay ... Yaj Ekim.  Coincidently, make of it what you will, Yaj is an Indian boy’s name meaning worshipper, sacrifice, another name for Shiva, a sage.  And Ekim is a Turkish name for October meaning “sowing” (of seeds).


Website
The Stillness Before Time
There is really only one Way.
It is without division or boundary.

It is without name or theology.

Awareness is its scripture,

Here now its venue,

You its witness,

Your life the journey.

A 50-page PDF copy can be downloaded at:
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The Unfolding Next Round (Unpublished elsewhere)

Standouts from "The Return to Wonder" Edit

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Of A Philosophical Nature
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50 Rules Kids Won't Learn in School

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How to Work in Any Environment

Eight Translations of the Ashtavakra Gita



The Heart of Awareness (Byrom)

Ashtavakra Gita (Marshall)

Bitten by the Black Snake (Schoch)

A Duet of One (Balsekar)

Ashtavakra Gita (Richards)

Astavakra Samhita (Wood)


Ashtavakra Gita (Vedic Scriptures)

Translations of Other Ancient Writings
Ashtavakra Gita: I Am Shiva
Tao Te Ching: Verse One
Tao Te Ching (Marshall)
Yoga Sutras (Marshall)
http://yogasutrasbypatanjali.blogspot.com/

Dhammapada (Marshall)

Avadhut Gita (Shastri)


Song of the Avadhut (Abhayananda)

Atma Bodha (Chinmayananda)

The Essence of the Ribhu Gita (Ramamoorthy & Nome)

Yoga Vasishta Sara (Ramasramam)

Crest-Jewel of Discrimination (Madhavananda)


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Ponderings of Yaj Ekim
© Michael J. Holshouser 2012
World Rights Reserved


The Last Page

The Last Page


Everyone the same the same quantum indivisibility playing the theater real.
Everyone the immortal essence peering through mortal eyes, feigning a mortal game.
Everyone as free, as aware, as their shard of soul demands, and mind allows.

* * * *
Those whose destiny it is to become seers ponder many things
Until they gradually become aware of the foundation of consciousness itself,
And in that observant attentiveness to the awareness that never sleeps,
Their minds discern that from whence all things come and go,
And in that awareness merge back into the indivisibility
Of the eternity that is, has ever been, will ever be.

* * * *
Is there any creature, any form, fashioned in this vast universe,
That does not journey to the conclusion of its paradigm?
All nature is naught but patterns within patterns,
All functions of the same choicelessness,
All programming of quantum design,
Indivisible within one and all for all eternity.

* * * *
The quantum indivisibility is sightless,
Soundless, senseless, odorless, and tasteless.
Only in consciousness does any universe appear real.

* * * *
If the world, if the universe, was truly real,
How could it, would it, every instant be changing?
Only you do not change, only you have ever been the same,
Only you have ever been the one and only you,
Awareness, witnessing a dream.

* * * *
The Tao, by whatever sound you call it, is always the same.
The same as when you were born, the same as when you die,
The same as before you were born, the same as after you die.
Life is a brief opportunity to view it the same while you exist.

* * * *
That quantum essence that you truly are cannot die, for it was never born.
You are eternity, the stuff of stars, come to life in a dreaming of time.
There is no who, no what, no where, no when, no why, no how.
You are the nothing more, the nothing less, the nothing but.


Five Hundred

500


Pretend you are already dead.
Die to time, literally be here now, right here, right now,
As still as the morning dew, totally alone, eternally present, not a care in the world,
All knowledge vaporized, no family, no friends, no enemies, no problems,
No attachment to the pleasures and pains of the sensory feed,
Complete negation of any and all assumptions,
Nothing more, nothing less,
No body, no identity, no possessions,
Nothing more than pure, still, attentive awareness.

* * * *
The awareness, the spirit, the soul, the essence, the mystery,
How can it be said to belong to anybody, if not everybody and everything?
In the raging sea of metaphors, it is all very much the same.

* * * *
What is any given mind but a set, a bag, an array, of programming.
A circulating loop of habituation, conditioning, brainwashing.
A frame of reference believing its thoughts real and true,
Its manufactured identity sacrosanct and enduring.

* * * *
How ludicrous to imagine that we really know anything,
That all our speculations mean diddly-squat,
That all our ceaseless wordplay
Is any more than another form of wind.

* * * *
What are the shades of gray between black and white,
Good and bad, right and wrong, right and left, bitter or sweet,
Or any other dualistic notion born of the monkey-mind’s play of time?

* * * *
The difference between any you and any me is all in our heads, all in our minds.
Our perceptions, our imagination, our relentless emphasis on the ever-kaleidoscoping universe,
Playing out every timeless moment, bewildering us all with its inexplicable veil.
And who has the unshakable witness behind the curtain ever been,
But the same you that is me, the same me that is you.

* * * *
And if it is perchance in your cards to figure out this mystery of mysteries,
How far will you glean it?  What will you say?  What will you do?
How will you play this, what might be called, fate of fates?


Four Hundred and Ninety-Nine

499


Why should you examine and corroborate anything and everything to your satisfaction?
Because you are a scientist, and resolute, exacting observation is first and foremost.

* * * *
Nothingness is the eternal constant within which every imaginable variable,
Each and every one fashioned of the quantum essence and its ever-shifting nature,
Ever condenses and evaporates, like clouds in the sky, in its timeless here now.
It has been called by many names, to which it has never even once answered.

* * * *
What is any history but what some storyteller’s frame of reference imagined,
Coupled with the translation of your frame of reference.
Very dubious from the get-go.

* * * *
Who are you to argue with somebody who wants to believe in a deity
That is as real as the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, or Santa Claus?

* * * *
What is the body but a bag of perceptions,
Of memories, of desire, of fears, of agonies, of ecstasies,
All cavorting in eternity’s indivisible stillness in every way imaginable.

* * * *
Here you are.
And really no answers to the questions: who, what, where, when, why, how.
Agnostically faking it the best you can, the modus operandi.

* * * *
Desire and fear are imbued in the primordial roots of every human endeavor.
From the long ago jungles, dark and ominous, passion flamed across the world.

* * * *
The future of Eden, relentlessly corrupted by the mind of humankind, daily unfolds,
The purity of its Darwinistic origin forever tainted by the cancer it before time fostered.

* * * *
The addictive mind is an insatiable mind, a consuming force obsessed with every possible extreme:
Food, sex, alcohol, drugs, religion, power, fame, fortune, materialism, greed ad infinitum.
An habitual, undisciplined, pride-filled mind driven to debilitating dependency
By what is really nothing more than a kaleidoscoping sensory theater.
Ever running from the aloneness, the stillness, the essence,
Of the indelible mystery permeating everything.


Four Hundred and Ninety-Eight

498


We humans are all animals here,
Mammals with consciousness enough, with imagination enough,
To perceive the sensory play in such a way as to fabricate the notion, the absurdity, of individuality.
Animals with a beyond-the-pale aptitude for communication and tool-making.
But animals, nonetheless, animals, nonethemore.

* * * *
If you were in a jungle, and had not learned the means, the tools, necessary for your survival,
How long do you think others would share the boon of their skill in the hunt?
Every bird must abandon the nest flying upon its own wing.
Anything less is not the Way of Eden.

* * * *
Why is every man not treated, respected, venerated, as one would
A grandfather, a father, an uncle, a brother, a husband, or a son?
Why is every woman not treated, respected, venerated, as one would
A grandmother, a mother, an aunt, a sister, a wife, or a daughter?
What is it that makes our kind so callous toward strangers?
Why are we so caught up in the squalor of differences
Rather than the common thread weaving all?

* * * *
This brief dream is likely just a one-shot dog and pony show
In your mind-body’s so very vain sliver of forever,
So enjoy it as best ye may, while ye may,
For it will all be over sooner than soon enough.

* * * *
Even the most vile foe is teacher to you, and you to s/he.
There is no occurrence that has not played its part
In your reaching this moment in dreamtime.
You may not much care to offer heartfelt thanks,
But the truth of it best be acknowledged for what it is.

* * * *
There are always subtleties within subtleties within subtleties.
No one ever achieves excellence any first time,
Nor doe anyone ever truly know everything about anything.
Attaining mastery always takes practice; the beginner is always a beginner.

* * * *
Go back to the you before the mortal body, and forward to the you after it has fallen away.
Of what importance is this ever-changing vessel, this vague set of imaginary notions, really?