Which after Travails Arrives at 8

05/13/2008 7:18 AM – 8:02 AM

I think it’s this that my objective in this whole thing is simply to learn to trust God and the universe he’s birthed us into. It is looking down through the layers of crazies, bums and bullies and seeing that the underlying nature of the whole is good. I’ve been struck over the past year or so by a number of references to the peace of the old. The fearlessness of the ones that make it that far. Which is not always the case, but so beautiful when it is.

I'm nervous about messing it up, about this being my only shot at it. If my hope were a lie, which most of the time I do not believe it is, I would still have the fact that it takes some of the pressure off this game of living. There is that. We are here to learn and delight. We learn to make things with blocks and play well with others and delight in these tasks. And as I must learn to trust God for the preservation of my soul, I must learn to trust his universe to follow his unseen orchestration. This is hard.

I am a skeptic by nature. But I am also a mystic. I am an idealist and a realist. The struggle rarely reaches the full-on pitch of battle but the tension remains. I’d like to think that this keeps me honest while retaining my sometimes naive optimism. But knowing that money does not buy happiness has left me at times with a shitty work ethic and a mountain of debt and knowing that good grades do not indicate any guarantee of understanding has left me with a long string of bad grades. Knowing the underlying emptiness of earnest pursuit has often left me with nothing but a self-satisfied sneer and a destitution of warmth. I know that the pursuit is the thing. But when honestly examined, what is worth pursuit? What when apprehended satisfies? Not my mother’s God – that guy is seriously bipolar. Not the Zen God – he’s cold and doesn’t dance. Not this little savings in the bank – it’ll be gone very quickly. Not the knowing of unknowing – it doesn’t really teach you anything. Not the prettiest girl – you can’t really talk to her. Not the girl that you can always talk to – she's usually taken and never seems to be able talk to her boyfriends. Not writing a novel – it’s not really good enough to be published. Not getting a really, really good performance review – a large part of that is being good to the boss. Not getting a really, really good grade – it’s stuff you knew before you took the class. Not getting away with something that you shouldn’t have – it severs social connections you'll probably wish you'd kept. Not finding the most honest perspective – it’s not really anymore helpful than the rest. Not knowing thyself – thyself will cease to be relevant. Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. One generation goes, another generation comes and the universe offers no comment. Where is the spark? Where is the beauty? Where is that one true thing? If only one could only know with certainty what actions store up treasures in heaven and could peek in at the account statement from time to time.

But with all this horseshit lying around, there has to be a pony in here somewhere. My hope and my pride. My white plume. And then you see, I am content for this round and I’ve won more rounds of late than I’ve lost. And having done so, we can sigh, nod and say, “fuck it, Dude. Let’s go bowling.” Which, really, is the answer to everything. Yes. The Dude wins. My condolences, Mr. Lebowski, the Dude wins. Let your garments always be white, let your hair lack no oil and mark it 8, Dude. By all means, mark it 8.