u/Taoman108

Hi Dudes!

By many measures, The Big Lebowski is an unconventional film. To quote Maude, “the story’s ludicrous,” our characters are rarely heroic, and we encounter a mysterious narrator in The Stranger who seems to be both in the narrative and weaving the narrative all at once. 

Usually, stories have rules. This isn’t ‘Nam.

And yet, The Dude reminds me of another fella. A fella by the name of Albert Camus.

French-Algerian writer Albert Camus was a fellow traveler with Existentialists like Jean-Paul Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, and Maurice Merleau-Ponty. One of the youngest recipients of the Nobel Prize in Literature, Camus wrote novels, plays, and philosophical essays before his life was tragically cut short by a car accident. Hardly a lightweight. 

It’s Camus’s notion of the Absurd that I’d like to connect with The Dude. Indeed, The Dude is portrayed as an Absurdist hee-ro, one from whom we can learn a thing or two.

Put simply, Absurdism posits that existence is meaningless, and people experience an existential unsettling when they attempt to find meaning in a universe that has none to offer. In his book The Myth of Sisyphus, Camus cheerily suggests that, given this, there’s really only one major philosophical question: why don’t we all kill ourselves?

I’ll not spoil Camus’s legacy by poorly parsing it all out. For the purposes of this post, it’s enough to bring up that Camus references the Greek myth of Sisyphus to point us toward an answer. In the myth, Sisyphus is condemned to roll a boulder up a hill only to have it tumble down over and over again. Forever. Further, Sisyphus knows it’ll never stay up there. If he had hope that it would, there’d be less of a sting to his punishment.

Camus writes that this is our existence. We push our boulders up our hills. We start projects that will fall apart. We struggle and sweat, and, well, for what? 

Now, Camus is no nihilist. Instead of looking upon the condition our condition is in and despairing, he looks on it as some kind of cosmic challenge or joke. He throws the burden back on all of us, asking, “Well friend, all of your systems and beliefs, all your supposed knowledge and wisdom, are for naught. What’s keeping you going?” 

There’s no right answer. It’s anything that can get a Dude out of bed in the morning. Anything that, after one clearly admits the absurdity of one’s situation, allows them to carry on.

The Dude gets this.

By the end of The Big Lebowski, all the boulders rolled up all the hills have tumbled down. The Dude is still down a rug, no one’s any richer, and the semis continue. The Dude is down a friend, but the world is up a child, so the human ledger is balanced.

Hell, The Dude bowls, an activity that is Sisyphean in nature. Balls roll, pins fall, balls are returned, and pins are restacked. But damn does he enjoy the game in spite of its futility.

So, what are some absurdist lessons we can draw from The Dude:

Drop the story, Dudes: There is no story to speak of in The Big Lebowski. All of the scenarios each character concocts for Bunny’s disappearance are half-right at best. Life, too, is just one damn thing after another. But that’s no reason to despair.

Admit your situation: The Dude knows he’s a loser who the square community doesn’t give a shit about. He knows he’s never going to be one of The Big Lebowski’s achievers. But that doesn’t matter. It’s all smoke and mirrors anyway. One can still grab some burgers, a few beers, and a couple of laughs, and abide the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune with a smile on one’s face.

Nihilism is exhausting: Unlike the nihilists, The Dude doesn’t believe in nussing. If anything, he believes in something, even if it’s just bowling and friendship. As many learned folks have written, it’s not about not giving a fuck, it’s about being judicious on what to give a fuck about.  

Finish your coffee: There’s a quotation misattributed to Camus that I think still captures his spirit. “Should I commit suicide or drink a cup of coffee?” Even though Camus didn’t write this, he could’ve been speaking about Walter at the counter. We might not be heroes in epic tales. But we can abide by continuing to engage in the small acts that give our lives meaning to ourselves and to others.

If there’s no Stranger out there unfolding our story, it’s up to us. 

Your roll, Dudes

Rev. Ross

Hello Folks!

This morning in meditation, I had an experience I can trace back to Ram Dass’s teachings. 

Before I go on, I want to make clear this was an experience, and I’m not pretending to be hip to any secret knowledge. After I got up from my cushion, I still had to do the dishes and answer emails. I’m no saint or realized person by even a half. I just thought this was something special and worth sharing with the rest of this satsang to compare notes

It started with a sense of my awareness shifting to Awareness. It was paradoxical, both focused and broad. The way the sun breaks over a clear horizon – a brilliant single point of light and rays of light that act as film over the horizon, illuminating its expanse. This was Awareness – able to rest on a particular point and able to light up the whole plane of being. 

This landscape turned into an ocean with waves cresting and breaking peacefully. The “I” that was perceiving this felt itself rise then disperse into the sea with neither pain nor fear. Again, there was Awareness of all this, but no locus of that awareness. 

Then friends and family rose out of this sea. I saw my wife, my parents, my in-laws, my daughters, and friends come together like waves, then return to the source of the sea without fear or suffering. 

It’s hard to put into words, but whatever was perceiving this knew they weren’t going anywhere because they’d never left. Like this Awareness, they’d always already been here. 

I’ve been sitting with this all morning. It’s been beautiful. 

Ram Ram,

RC

Hey Dudes!

Lots of shit goes sideways for The Dude. His rug’s pissed on, he gets socked in the jaw, his car is stolen then ultimately set aflame. I could go on, but you get the point.

And yet, at no time in The Big Lebowski does The Dude ever say, “Why me?” or something along those lines.

That’s worth lingering on, Dudes. I know I’ve gone through things that, relative to The Dude’s travails, were minor inconveniences and I’ve definitely railed against my fortune.

Again, intuitively, The Dude proves himself to be a model philosopher. Specifically, he practices something first coined by Friedrich Nietzsche in his book Ecce Homo, a love of one’s fate, or, to use the parlance before our times, amor fati.

Here’s Nietzsche’s quote:

>“My formula for greatness in a human being is amor fati: that one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity. Not merely bear what is necessary, still less conceal it… but love it.” 

That’s a tall order, Dudes. There are lots of strikes and gutters in a person’s life, and some gutters can really send us to the dumps. But I’d say the genius of Nietzsche’s quote is that regardless of what one wants, one can’t change anything that happens to us. Sure, we have some agency over what happens next, but the past has passed. 

What’s left to us, as Jean Paul-Sartre wrote, is to take responsibility for it. Not to blame ourselves for what’s happened to us, but to determine what to do with it. To reframe it.

The Dude constantly does this. He allows for some venting, but then he muses he “can’t be worried about that shit. Life goes on, man,” or “Yeah, well, The Dude abides,” or even simply “Fuck it.”

The Dude’s not bypassing or disassociating. He’s acknowledging the immutability of the past and finding a way to embrace it in his present.

Ironically, the only character who says “It’s not fair” is one of the Nihilists, who adheres to a philosophy that counts Nietzsche as one of their forefathers. It’s so out of character, Walter calls them out sneering, “Fair?! Who's the fucking nihilist here?!”

No wonder believing in nussing can be so exhausting.

Ups and downs, strikes and gutters, I hope yer all abiding what’s thrown your way Dudes,  

Rev. Ross

Hey Dudes!

Kevin Smith’s 1999 movie Dogma was a formative film for me. Like Branded for Walter and The Dude, it came at the right time and hit me when I was in the midst of the stress of preparing for my Bar Mitzvah, dealing with the death of my grandfather (which was the first major death I’d experienced), and the general upheaval that comes from being a thirteen year old boy.

There are a lot of ins and outs to the movie, and I don’t want to give away too much of the plot. So let me isolate one exchange that has stuck with me and has influenced my approach to Dudeism as well. 

It’s between Bethany, our main character played by Linda Fiorentino, and Rufus, played by Chris Rock. Bethany is a Catholic undergoing an existential crisis that sets her on a quest equal parts epic and comic. Rufus is the 13th apostle, excluded from the Christian Gospels "for being Black”. During a quiet moment, Bethany asks Rufus what Jesus is like. He responds:

>Rufus: He still digs humanity, but it bothers Him to see the shit that gets carried out in His name – wars, bigotry, televangelism. But especially the factioning of all the religions. He said humanity took a good idea and, like always, built a belief structure on it.
Bethany: Having beliefs isn’t good?
Rufus: I think it’s better to have ideas. You can change an idea. Changing a belief is trickier.

This distinction, between the rigidity of a belief and the malleability of an idea, is what draws me to The Dude and Dudeism. Whatever The Dude holds on to, he holds lightly. His possessions, assumptions, opinions about others. They’re his, but they’re subject to change when new shit comes to light. And The Dude is quick to admit when his own thinking gets uptight.

Where goes The Dude, so goes Dudeism. Dudeism, for me, has never been about creeds or adhering to strictures. It’s an attitude or an orientation toward this whole durn human comedy. It’s a kind of seeking that one can do driving the roads or in one’s bathtub. It’s less a pursuit of truth as the weaving together of many, complimentary truths. Of following Rufus’ line of thinking and entertaining good ideas that are melioristic, yet always subject to change.

Or, to quote from sources from farther East, to remain green and supple. That which is rigid and unyielding, be it a tree or an idea-turned-belief, is already dead.

I hope yer all abiding as well as you can,

Rev. Ross 

[Edit: Formatting issues]

Hey Dudes,

Even if the whole world’s gone crazy. 

Even if nihilists broke into your private residence. 

Even if Woo peed on your rug. 

Even if you spent yesterday being very undude. 

Even if it’s already the tenth. 

Nothing is fucked, man. 

Strike or gutter, the pins reset and the ball returns. 

The Stranger checks in with you at the bar. 

Friends will show up at practice. 

The whole durn human comedy keeps perpetuating itself. 

And The Dude within you abides. 

Hey Dudes!

Recently, I rewatched Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and was struck by Brad Pitt’s character, Cliff Booth. 

Booth embodies the kind of preternatural calmness one might expect of a Stoic or a samurai. And while I’m passing over the questionable actions he may or may not have done in the past (wife, harpoon gun), I think there are Dudely lessons one can learn from observing his character. 

Cliff and The Dude share some similarities: they live simply, they seem to feel at home in whatever scene they find themselves in, and they value friendship above all else. 

Indeed, I’d say Cliff Booth’s friendship with Rick Dalton is one of the healthiest on-screen depictions of male friendship we’ve seen in the last decade. 

Further, both Cliff and The Dude are comfortable with who they are. This comfort engenders confidence. In The Dude’s case, his casualness runs deep. In Cliff’s case, he walks into every situation as though he’s been there before. 

Cliff and The Dude are gyroscopes. Whereas pinwheels need an external source of power to spin, gyroscopes spin with their own internal power. 

Contra Cliff, Rick needs the approval of directors, neighbors, agents, and other actors to feel a sense of self worth. Cliff needs…well, Cliff. Though, to be fair, it also helps to be Brad Pitt. 

Contra The Dude, the other Lebowski needs a wall full of achievements and a young trophy wife to obscure the goldbricking truth. The Dude is content to bowl, roll, and throw back some oat sodas. He’s a deadbeat, and he’s okay with it. 

Where Cliff and The Dude diverge is in how they respond to violence. And here’s where I’d argue that Cliff synthesizes the best parts of The Dude (see above) and Walter. 

Like Walter, Cliff draws lines in the sand. If someone crosses that line, he’ll do more than mark it zero. Truly, he can go to some dark places. But it’s important to note how in the movie, Cliff never starts violence, he ends it. 

And unlike Walter, who makes talking about violence a big part of his personality, Cliff does what he needs to do when the moment arises, then goes about his day. It’s not worth remarking upon or retelling for self-aggrandizement. (Heck, that’s part of what ticked Cliff off about Bruce Lee.) Which is somewhere between sociopathic and Dudely…I can’t quite tell. 

To tie all this together, some takeaways:

• Let your self-worth come from within. 
• Let your value create comfort, confidence, and companionship. 
• If it comes time to act, let your actions do the talking, without hesitation. 
• And look good while fixing the cable.

 

I hope yer all abiding as well as you can,

Rev. Ross

Hey Dudes,

This year, my dad’s gotten pretty sick. I can’t say with certainty how things are going to shake out in the short term, though we all know how things will shake out in the long term. 

All this to say, I’ve spent more time this year than other years by sickbeds and helping out my mom, who’s his prime advocate. My Special Lady Friend and I are even handling the logistics to move them in with us by year’s end. 

It’s required checking in with our conditions but also expressing sympathy for my mom and dad, who are nearer to the center of all this than we are. 

And that got me thinking about Walter’s exchange with The Dude after The Nihilists messed up his bath time. 

Walter, as is his wont, comes in hot talking about unsecured marmots within city limits, castration, and what have you. 

The Dude’s having none of it, and Walter picks up on The Dude’s vibes. 

“We are sympathizing here, Dude.”

The Dude brushes this aside, leaving Walter put out. He departs with this parting shot:

“Okay Dude. I can see you don’t want to be cheered up.”

So this is the crux of what I want to get into, and what I want to tie back to being a Dudeist among those who are grieving and anxious. 

There’s a tension between Walter’s statements. On the one hand, he wants to cheer up The Dude. On the other hand, he claims to be sympathizing with The Dude. 

What if the sympathetic move would’ve been to not try to cheer up The Dude? What if The Dude needed someone to just sit in the shit with him and toss back an oat soda. 

Ironically, one can find guidance from Walter’s adopted faith, in the Jewish tradition of sitting shiva. 

In shiva, the period of mourning, the bereaved welcome guests. When the guests arrive, it falls upon the bereaved to speak first. This accomplishes at least two kindnesses. First, the bereaved don’t have to sit through platitudes they don’t want to hear. They get to set the tone. Second, it absolves the guests from groping for the right words to say. 

For some people hearing “Everything happens for a reason” is exactly what they need to hear. For others, those same words would want to make them punch someone in the face. 

Better than trying to guess what someone needs for sympathy is to follow a Dudely maxim. The one The Dude says to Marty: “I’ll be there man.”

I’ve been at the deathbed of my grandfather, and the sickbeds of others. In those moments, the Dudeliest thing I could do is to just be there. Fully, without some kind of script to try and make everyone feel better. And when they wanted to speak, I followed their lead. Some wanted to talk about death. Others, life. Others, music and their favorite deli sandwiches. 

The real act of sympathy is abiding presence, pure and simple. 

I’ll try to keep that in mind as I navigate the shoals ahead of me now. 

I hope yer all abiding as well as you can,

Rev. Ross

Hey Dudes!

I’m rereading The Great Guide, Julian Baggini’s accessible book on the life and ideas of Scotland’s David Hume. Aside from his far out writings on causation, skepticism, and the self, Hume is praised by Baggini (with some qualifications) for how he lived his life.

Baggini states that the reason why Hume isn’t as well known as other philosophers isn’t merely because of the difficult nature of his work, but also because he didn’t fit the mold of a heroic philosopher/public intellectual. He wasn’t extreme in his views; he didn’t live an outsized, tragic life; he wasn’t swept up in enthusiasms. Hume was, by many accounts…well…nice, calm, sociable. He liked to chat with friends over beer. He went on leisurely walks. He was rather Dudely.

It’s this quality that Hume’s biographer argues we need more of in the world. Folks who can think deeply, and who, in the parlance of our community, can abide.

And it’s a quality that even a dummy like me, who lacks Hume’s powers of perception, can aspire towards.

It reminds me of an example from 13th Century Zen monk Dogen’s writing, Shoaku Makusa, which contemporary Zen author Brad Warner translated as Don’t Be a Jerk. In that, he states:

>“Even if the whole universe is nothing but a bunch of jerks doing all kinds of jerk-type things, there is still liberation in simply not being a jerk.”

I think this is true of us Dudes too. Sometimes looking to change the world can seem like a daunting, impossible task. We might not know where to start. Our Inner Walter might think they’re the only one who gives a shit about the rules.

And yet, we can repurpose Dogen’s advice:

>“In a world in which everyone is acting very UnDude, there is great freedom in being a Dude.”

We might not have books written about us. We might not have our likeness printed on the cover of Time magazine. But we can’t worry about that shit, man. All that's not up to us.

We can, however, choose to be Dudes. Or, if nothing else, a little more Dudely than we were a moment before.

It might be the only real freedom we have.

I hope yer all abiding as well as you can,

Rev. Ross

Hey Dudes!

For years I’ve kept a journal. I was inspired by Marcus Aurelius, Seneca, and others, though my ponderings are comparatively shallow, pond-deep at most. 

But recently, I asked myself how I might merge this practice with Dudeism. Here’s my idea. 

Imagine each evening, you’re assembling your bowling team. So, call up your inner Donny and Walter. 

Start by recalling an event from the day. It might have stood out because it was far out, like meeting up with a Special Lady Friend or bowling a perfect frame. Or, it might have made you feel really undude. Perhaps someone peed on your rug or you endured a coffee mug to the forehead. Fucking reactionaries. 

Write it out with as little editorializing as possible. Just the facts. It could help to write in the second person to gain some distance. 

Then unleash your inner Walter on the page. Allow yourself to get as self-righteous and indignant as you can. Better on the page than in life. You’re not wrong you’re just an asshole. And that’s cool…that’s cool, because you’re standing up for yourself. 

All done? Far out. 

Now let your inner Donny have his say. Donny doesn’t make many statements; instead, he asks questions. And there isn’t a question dumb enough for Donny to keep to himself. He’s all innocence. Really interrogate that event. 

Okay, now what?

Well Dudes, I’d say we’ve got ourselves a thesis, antithesis, synthesis situation here. We set the event down on paper, we let Walter fulminate and draw his lines in the sand, we get Donny in his inimitable way to soften some of our certainties. 

Then from this pendulum swing…our Dudeliness arises. Abiding, I argue, lives between certainty and curiosity. 

Maybe journaling isn’t your thing. Still, I bet calling upon your inner bowling team, and working through these positions internally instead of upon the Nihilists and Smokeys in our lives, might help us abide the strikes and gutters that roll our way. 

I hope yer all abiding as well as you can,

Rev. Ross

Hey Dudes!

No matter where he is, The Dude seems to be pretty content. Sure, he’s bothered when his rug is micturated upon, or when his buddy pulls a piece out on the lanes, but by and large The Dude abides. He’s comfortable in spacious mansions, Venice Beach bungalows, swanky swingers’ pads, and (to an extent) funeral homes.

I got to thinking about The Dude’s sangfroid while reading The Discourses of Epictetus a few days ago because I happened upon this quote that I’ve been keeping at hand. It’s about how to better perceive our situation. Here it is:

>When you are alone, you should call this tranquility and freedom and when you are with many you shouldn’t call this a crowd, or trouble or uneasiness but festival and company and contentedly accept it.

In other words: if you’re alone, act as though you’re totally free; if you’re among others, act as though you’re at a festival.

Far out.

I dig this quote because it’s all about reframing our circumstances to appreciate the benefits. There’s an old joke that the definition of a dog is “a creature always on the wrong side of a door”. When it’s out, a dog wants to come in. When it’s in, a dog wants to go out.

People are like that too. How often have I been by myself and thought “Gosh it’s lonely here. I wish I was hanging out with people” only to go out and yearn for the comfort of my own company.

The Dude, however, gets Epictetus’ sentiment intuitively. He doesn’t seem to want for anything when he’s skipping home from Ralph’s to spend an evening alone, and he doesn’t ever seem to be searching for the exits when he’s consorting with known pornographers and their ilk.

Further, the reframing of a crowd as a festival is particularly helpful in abiding. When we’re at a party, we’re more likely to cut people slack. Folks speak a little louder, stand a little closer, and jostle each other. Even if there’s a beverage here, man.

And what do we do? We’re cool with it. We don't become doormats, but we understand that it’s part of the cost of socializing and we can lighten up about it. No one wants to be the guy with the cleft asshole who takes every careless act at a party personally. It’s not about us, Dude. And that’s cool, that's cool.

So I’ll be applying this Dudely, Stoic framework to my days and see where it leads me.

See you at the festival, Dudes!

I hope yer all abiding as best as you can,

Rev. Ross

Hey Dudes!

This summer my Special Lady Friend and the Little Lebowskis are traveling to India to visit her side of the family, and for various reasons (work, property maintenance, what have you) I’m on my own until August. 

It’s the longest time I’ve been without them so far. And while I definitely appreciate the freedom, I’m also confronting just how many hours there are for a Dude to fill. 

So I’ve looked to The Dude for some inspiration. See, I’m not motivated by having goals. Once completed, goals seem to create more goals. There’s always another summit to climb, another way to achieve. And that can be exhausting. 

Instead, I’m inspired by how The Dude describes his days to Maude. At first blush, they appear aimless. But I think that’s missing the point; namely, that there is no point to The Dude’s activities. He bowls to bowl. He drives to drive. And whatever insights he relives through his acid flashbacks arrive without much planning on his part. 

Maybe The Dude cares about the league tournament. But if he does, he doesn’t express as much. 

The Dude’s activities are atelic, which is Greek for goal-less or end-less. Without some ultimate end. 

Truly, some of life’s most enjoyable activities are atelic. We dance to dance, not to arrive somewhere, as Alan Watts pointed out. 

There’s another word for these activities: they’re rituals. Sure, rituals might exist to serve some higher end, but ultimately they gain their meaning through the doing. 

So until the family returns, I’m filling my days purposely without purpose: reading, playing guitar, going on long walks around the farm, and meditating. And, of course, checking in with my friends and family. 

I might not fill my days like some achievers. But I’ll certainly end my days feeling fulfilled. 

How about you, Dudes? What are some atelic activities you enjoy?

I hope yer all abiding as well as you can,

Rev. Ross

Hey Dudes!

Throughout The Big Lebowski, The Dude has a flexible relationship with time. When he meets with the Other Lebowski, he doesn’t know the day of the week. When he chats with his landlord, The Dude has to be reminded that the next day’s the tenth. When he calls Walter, The Dude forgets that it’s Saturday, the Jewish day of rest.

All this might suggest that The Dude’s oblivious to time. I don’t think that’s the case. Rather, The Dude’s relationship to time brings up a distinction the Ancient Greeks made: that between chronos and kairos.

In other words, old shit has come to light.

In Greek, chronos represents measured time. Minute against minute, hour against hour. Clock time. It’s the time we mean when we say “I’ll meet you at seven” or “The rent’s due tomorrow”. Chronos is important. It ensures we don’t miss when the semis take place.

But chronos can be a cruel task master. Ask any worker who’s paid for the number of hours they work rather than their work’s quality. Ask any little Lebowski who throws a fit when they’re wide awake but it’s eight o’clock, so it’s “bed time”.

Kairos, on the other hand, is the qualitative measure of time. It’s the opportune time for something to occur. It’s also the way time feels. To quote L.L. Cool J from Deep Blue Sea, “Put your hand on a hot stove, and a minute can feel like an hour. Put your hand on a hot woman, and an hour can feel like a minute.”

Kairos is the felt time of experience. It’s the time in which The Dude largely inhabits. Moving Eastward, he embodies the Zen maxim to “Eat when hungry and sleep when tired” not to eat at dinner time and sleep at bed time.

It’s also a way for The Dude to stay present in whatever situation he’s in. At no point do we see The Dude impatient or rushing to get from one scene to the next. Even when he’s being lectured by the Other Lebowski, he merely puts on his sunglasses and waits for the opportune pause to say “Fuck it” and leave.

To go even further into an Eastern thing, The Dude intuitively grasps that he’s what Zen philosopher Dogen refers to as uji. We’re all “being-time” or “time beings”. Time does not exist outside of us, and we do not exist outside of time.

Yes, we age and die. Chronos works itself on us.

But we also, through our kairotic experience, work ourselves on time. We might not be able to add years to our lives, but we can add space to our moments by simply being there, which is its own way of prolonging our lives.

We can do as The Dude does, embodying the moment: be it enduring the pointed judgement of the Sheriff of Malibu, or the mellowness of a soak accompanied by whale songs and a J.

The Dude bowls upon the Stoic Seneca’s lane. He gets that life is long enough, we just waste much of it if we’re hung up on the movement of the clock’s hands.

Your roll, Dudes.

I hope yer all abiding as well as you can,

Rev. Ross

Hey Dudes!

In Zen and other forms of Mahayana Buddhism, there’s the ideal of the bodhisattva: someone who attains enlightenment, but chooses to return until all others are enlightened. Indeed, some Buddhists take a vow to aspire towards acting like a bodhisattva. 

This is laudable. And proud we are of all of them. 

I’d like to posit that The Dude is his own kind of bodhisattva…a dudeisattva in the parlance of our community. 

While The Dude doesn’t go out of his way to volunteer at soup kitchens and he’s put his political expressions in his rearview, I’d say he’s still doing his part to improve wherever he is and whoever he’s with. To wit,

He shows up to Marty’s dance cycle. 

He gives Walter the space to fulminate. 

He acknowledges Donny without the dismissiveness he normally receives. 

He treats everyone from Brandt to Maude, from the other Lebowski’s driver to DaFino with decency. Okay, maybe not Knox Harrington, but The Dude’s only human. 

Further, he lets people be themselves. He doesn’t try, like many well-intentioned folks try, to fit them into a preconceived notion of what a “good” or “better” world would demand of them. 

He’s not like the monkey in Alan Watts’s story who “tries to save the fish from drowning by placing him into a tree”. 

The first bodhisattva vow can be translated as “I vow to save all sentient beings” but it makes more sense if one adds “…from myself” to the end of it. 

The Dude surely does this. He doesn’t demand others become more dudely. He abides. And he encourages me to abide by example, not by fiat. 

And I take comfort in that. 

I hope yer all abiding as well as you can,

Rev. Ross

[edit: typo]

Hey Dudes!

I’ve been going through Ram Dass’s back catalogue recently, and I stumbled on a cool saying of his (and boy did he have many).

He said, after noting that “a lot of angry people show up at peace rallies”, that “The cops create the hippies and the hippies create the cops.”

So rather than view the dynamic as merely adversarial, like reactionaries versus abiders, it’s more interesting to view the two as co-dependently arising. Like Yin and Yang.

This is true in The Big Lebowski as it is in life. The Dude is only Dudley because of the contrast of goldbricking Lebowskis. And the other Lebowski is only an achiever because he measures himself against The Dude. In my day job, I’m only a teacher because I have students. 

The pins need a bowling ball as much as the bowling ball needs pins.

It’s all less of a contest or a conflict between achievers and deadbeats. It’s a dance of compliments…even if we sometimes step on each other’s toes.

So rather than bemoan the existence of guys with cleft assholes or nihilists or reactionary sheriffs in my world, I can try to remember that they’re all part of the dance, partners with which I have opportunities to abide.

And, to keep myself grounded, I can remind myself that I’m probably the guy with a cleft asshole to others at times. These roles aren’t static.

To circle back to Ram Dass, it’s not a melodrama if one kicks back and realizes life, like The Big Lebowski, is more of a mellow drama.

I hope yer all abiding as well as you can,

Rev. Ross

Hey Dudes!

This Sunday, I turned forty. A good friend of mine a little farther down the path shared that forty is “the Y2K of birthdays. There’s a lot of noise and worry, but nothing happens!”

I had to chuckle at that, but I’m not so sure. 

I feel like I’ve begun my gentle descent down the mountain, and I like it. The strenuous climb upwards has been replaced by an appreciation of the view and a new way of walking. A bit more sure-footed, yet also surrendering to gravity and giving the terrain its due. No longer a path to be conquered but a companion to be enjoyed.

My special lady friend and I were talking about this. In trying to understand why I feel so accepting of this next stage, I landed on something that draws me to The Dude and gives me comfort.

In a world in which many people focus on what they are, The Dude spends time understanding who he is. 

Think of the first question many folks ask in the US when meeting someone new: What do you do? It’s so achievement-oriented, so focused on productivity and contribution. It’s not wrong-headed, just limited.

The Dude is outright dismissive about what he’s done. "Employed?" He’s more interested in who he is. And that self-understanding leads to self-acceptance, which leads to a fourth decade that’s decidedly chill for him. 

That question of who I am has always meant more than what I am and what I do. I’m hoping that this decade gives me more time to focus on that. 

For in learning to abide myself, I can better abide the world around me.

Regardless, I’m grateful for all of you who’ve been compeers on this journey. Here’s to seeing you on the road ahead.

Hope yer all abiding as well as you can,

Rev. Ross

[edit: style]

Hey Dudes!

Much has been said about Leonardo DiCaprio’s portrayal of Bob in One Battle After Another and how, in outfits and mannerisms, he resembles The Dude. 

But I’d like to linger a bit on another character who I think has Dudely lessons to share. I’m talking about Benicio Del Toro’s character, Sensei Sergio St. Carlos…hereafter referred to as Sensei. 

I think Sensei shows us Dudeists how to abide while also staying engaged while the whole world’s gone crazy. Here are some observations, with some light spoilers for One Battle After Another:

• Stay connected to your community, but don’t make a big show of it. Sensei seems to know everyone in his community and everyone seems to know him. But he doesn’t strut around. Additionally, when he needs folks to help him out and help Bob, they step up, which suggests he’s put in the work and garnered goodwill. 
• Don’t be surprised when the plane crashes into the mountain. Whereas Bob spends the film in a perpetual state of panic, Sensei is the embodiment of “Nothing is fucked, here.” When the reactionaries come for him and his community, he sets his plan in motion, and stays calm all the while. Bob has a reason to be stressed, but so does Sensei. The only difference is Sensei must’ve asked himself, “Will getting stressed out be helpful?” and answered with a resounding “No.”
• Show up for your friends. We don’t know the full history of Sensei’s relationship with Bob, like we don’t know the depth of The Dude’s relationship with Walter and Donny. But we know that, what’s true in both movies, is that they’re there for each other no matter what. A true friend takes comfort in that. 
• Even after the plane crashes into the mountain, there might be further catastrophes. …and still, nothing is fucked. Sensei’s plans don’t go perfectly. Bob is apprehended. His getaway car is pursued by the cops. Sensei is pulled over and arrested. Yet he still is “calmer than you are”. He recognizes that, even at life’s extremes, it’s all just a dance. Which is why he’s able to cha-cha real slow as he’s being cuffed.
• It’s not about your opinions, man. It’s about your actions. Sensei doesn’t pontificate like the other Lebowski. He doesn’t hold court like Walter. He doesn’t even seem to be Mitch for small talk. He acts.
• “Ocean waves. Ocean waves.” Probably the Dudeliest saying Sensei repeats to pacify Bob. Sensei frames his experience as an ocean cresting and falling. Sometimes the tide rises. Sometimes it recedes. Is it good or bad? Who knows? It’s just what the ocean does. Further, to paraphrase a piece of Zen wisdom, it’s all ocean and we’re but temporary waves. That means we’re all connected and we’re all only here for a short while. So best to follow the flow.

 

I hope yer all abiding as well as you can. 

Courage, Dudes. Courage. 

Rev. Ross

[edited for grammar]

Hi Dudes!

I’ve spilled an ocean’s worth of digital ink writing about Dudeism and The Big Lebowski, and I thank you for your kind attention.

But I’ve been remiss. I haven’t written about Maude. Sure, I’ve referred to her as a foil to The Dude or to her goldbricking father, but she’s fascinating. And, as our community treats “Dude” as a gender-neutral appellation, Maude’s example is one I’ve long-overlooked and is deeply instructive.

So, let’s get down to cases.

It’s worth noting in the Tao Te Ching, that the Tao is assigned traditionally feminine qualities. It’s receptive, nurturing, and generative. But it’s not passive. And neither is Maude.

We’re first introduced to Maude as she works on her art. It’s a rendering of the feminine form, making use of the blank canvas and the paint upon it. It’s also interesting to note that the canvas rests on the floor while Maude floats above it. Like the Tao, Maude is both below and above The Dude – like Heaven and Earth, Yin and Yang, Maude’s double positioning orients The Dude as the connection between the upper and the lower.

Additionally, Maude is the one holding her family’s purse strings, which she inherited from her mother. Even though her father doesn’t agree with her lifestyle, she doesn’t cut him off. She allows him to live as he wishes to live: ostentatiously, full of puffed up virtues, with little substance behind the stuffiness. This is a kindness that he does not return, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Maude lives her life as she sees fit.

And sure, compared to The Dude, Maude might seem pretentious and affected, but who cares? It’s her role she chooses to play and she plays it well. It also allows her to gently chide The Dude when he’s feeling a little full of himself. When he makes the snarky comment about Karl Hungus “fixing the cable,” Maude dismisses him, stating “Don’t be fatuous, Jeffrey.” 

Indeed, Maude is the only character to consistently call The Dude by his given name, subtly pointing out that his laid-back sobriquet might be its own kind of affectation. As much as we love it.

Still, Maude has no qualms opening herself up to The Dude…metaphorically and literally. She shares his bed, makes love to him, and is transparent about not wanting him to be involved as a parent. While this might at first blush seem cold and transactional, it also belies Maude’s sensitivity to The Dude’s preferred way of living. The Dude gave no indication he’s interested in parenting, and Maude’s not about to make him. The arrangement benefits both of them, and is, in a way, beyond conventional notions of responsibility and duty. Besides, as any Dudeist cum Taoist might argue, responsibility and duty only appear when we lose sight of the Way.

There’s much more that can be written about Maude, and I’d be curious to read what you all think.

I hope yer all abiding as well as you can,

Rev. Ross      

Hey Dudes!

I came across a delightful and hilarious story in The New York Times. Soon after becoming pope, Leo XIV had to call his Chicago bank to transfer his account. He used his pre-papal name, Robert Prevost, and was prompted by the customer service agent to answer some security questions.

Apparently, his answers, while correct, weren’t sufficient, and the agent informed the former Bob Prevost he had to come in person to see the transaction through. Growing somewhat frustrated, he responded, “That would be very difficult. What if I told you I’ve recently been made the pope?”

The customer service agent hung up on him.

I mean, say what you will about the power of The Holy See, it doesn’t hold a candle to customer service.

But I think there’s a lesson here.

Like Pope Leo, The Dude is, well, The Dude, man. On this subreddit, we often associate the name Jeffrey Lebowski with the other Lebowski, the goldbricking one. And rightly so. We’re a loose affiliation of Dudeists, not Lebowski-ists. Like followers of Zeno are Stoics, not Zenoians. Or followers of Siddhartha Gautama are Buddhists, not Sid…ah, you get the point. There’s a quality of Dudeliness that is embodied in The Dude but transcends the person of Jeffrey Lebowski. As there is, for Catholics, a quality in The Pope that is both embodied and transcendent.

But that’s not the lesson I’m getting at.

The lesson is this: one might draw a lot of water in one domain, but be sucking at puddles in another. Even The Pope (THE POPE) is, to quote another Bob, “a complete unknown” to his bank. Heck, I’m sure that customer service rep has heard all the excuses for why someone can’t come in person. They weren’t trying to get scammed, man.

Likewise with The Dude. To his friends and the folks in the bowling alley, he’s The Dude. Everywhere else, he’s a dude. Despite their intimacy, Maude insists on calling him Jeffrey. As does the other Lebowski. To the sheriff of Malibu, he’s just a deadbeat.

That’s not to bring The Dude down. It’s to remind myself that in most spaces, I’m not The Dude. I’m, at best, a dude. I’m not my username. I’m not given the honorifics my students use with me. I’m not accorded the kindness of “Dad,” which my daughters apply.

And that’s cool. That’s how it should be. We’re all The Dudes of our own personal movies. And we’re all background characters in the movies of others.

That’s the humble rock upon which this Dudeist belief is built, friends.

I hope yer all abiding as well as you can,

Rev. Ross