the best of us, I’m learning. (King Lear becomes very undude during and after he abdicates power.) Eventually realizing that his own “thinking has become very uptight,” The Dude soon eases back into his calm, clever self, and situations begin to work themselves out for our hero. Ultimately, His Dudeness tells us that “The Dude abides.” Gosh, but I really, really needed that bit of wisdom.
To abide means to wait for, to stand ready for, to stand up under, to endure, to withstand. And because The Dude abides, for the most part, the truth comes to light and the chaos dissipates. King Lear did not abide and look what happened there. As The Dude says, “That’s a bummer, man.” No matter what life you choose, no matter where you divide your kingdom, you will have to abide many things. And you will hardly be able to avoid the ridiculous. Someone might even moo in your face one day. And you’ll have to figure out how to handle that.
To abide is to take a stance of grace and power. It says to the universe that you recognize that all is not certain, that things constantly change, but that you are willing to participate and stay true to your own character and its evolution; and that you recognize you are smart enough and strong enough to do just that at the proper moment in time. Well, I think that is true of the idea of abiding, but it’s a new concept to me, so you can let me know if I’m wrong.
All in all, we should go out and spread our kingdoms, our wealth of character, regardless of praise or compliment, or if we are moo’d at, and then do our best to abide what comes because heroes need to travel and have experiences in order to come home again as renewed men (or women).
*ME-MOIR JOURNAL* 4/28
(I noticed I have stopped numbering and for some reason am not nervous about that.)
Because Lisa says we should write down our dreams
Because maybe we’ll figure something out from them
Last night I dreamed I was a turbid pool of water. I was aware that my boundaries were no longer human; that I didn’t have the shape or movement of a human being, but I did have its consciousness. As this muddied pool of water, I was ashamed of my dirtiness. I knew that there were other bodies of water more magnificent and clear and clean. But I was what I was. I moved along a mossy bank and traveled effortlessly forward. At one point far along in my travels, I hit a massive mountain of rock. In my clouded state, I crashed against the jagged rocks and felt dizzy. Jostled, churning, and wild, my natural movement was deterred. For what felt like eternity, I slammed up against the rock. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. I couldn’t fight the force of such a solid mass. I thought, well, here I come to stay. Here I must, like Sisyphus, repeat a scenario of endless torture. I couldn’t or didn’t cry or scream; I had all the properties of water. At one point, even though I thought I was thoroughly trapped, a part of me seeped into minute crevices in the rock bit by bit. This took forever. Droplet by droplet, hour by hour, I moved all of me into the mountainous rock and onto the other side. Slowly, my consciousness as water found itself in a crisp, clean glacial pool. It was huge. My muddiness was no match for the pristine waters in which I now found myself. I was no longer clouded. What I was had changed. I sensed myself amid this new atmosphere. I was cooler, smoother and more slow moving, but I was still moving. The bank I moved along was more solid, a calmer ride. Eventually, I hit an area thick with trees. We, I sensed myself as that, we, moved together under the earth where the trees were growing. I drenched the roots and slid along all the life below the surface. I would keep going, even though I didn’t know where.
*JUSTINE LETTER*
Danielle,
Ah, Bubbles will forever be known as Bubbles to me. That quote, the one you read on my refrigerator, was by the poet Rumi, a true visionary from the thirteenth century. In this letter, I’d like to answer you with my favorite Rumi poem. He says all I would say to you, but he says it better. I hope you enjoy it.
The