Category: Abiding Time with Dude Lee
By Lee Glazier
So pointlessly blue
Why is the sky blue? We could get all science-y to find a precise answer, sure.
We could talk about photons, wavelengths, the atmosphere, and the photoreceptors in our eyes. But that kinda misses the point, doesn't it? That tells us the what and how, but not the why. What, logical purpose does the sky serve by being blue? What's the function of its blueness?
Why is the grass green? We could go over all the whats and wherefores again, but we're still left wondering about the purpose of its greenness.
I think there's a subtle lesson in this, Dudes. Purpose is something we figure out by connecting the dots. This is like this because it does that, right? Peacocks have bright feathers to attract mates, so that's their purpose. We figured that out by seeing that peacocks with the bigger, brighter feathers had a lot more sex than the ones who weren't so, uh, well-endowed.
But that ain't proof of purpose, man. That's proof of our ability to make inferences. Why do peacocks have such cool feathers? Why is the sky blue? Why do I laugh when I fart?
Purpose is a burden, man. We're all raised believing that we're supposed to be the hero, that we've gotta do our part to contribute to the immortality project. But the sky doesn't rain so that the plants grow; the sun doesn't rise so that we can see.
Purpose is an illusion that keeps us all stuck and uptight. When we ditch the habit of trying to see what the meaning or purpose of something is, we see what something truly is.
The sky doesn't need to be blue, it doesn't serve any purpose by being blue. It's just blue. Vibing with that, I can look up and appreciate it as it is.
Just as the sky changes throughout the day, so do we. We think it's because we chose to, or because of this, that, or the other thing, but really everything we go through comes from natural forces that are way outside of our comprehension.
Like if I want to smoke a joint (which I always do), it seems like the desire---and me choosing to spark one up---came from me. But did I choose to have that desire to smoke? No way, man, it just appeared.
We're all flowing along, and we think we're controlling the boat because it turns right when we turn the wheel right, but if we let go of the wheel---it turns on its own. It was the current all along.
Purpose and control promise a good life in the future, but they distract us from the good life that's already here.
This doesn't mean you should start shooting heroin or stop going to the gym, it means that the forces that push us to do those things are totally beyond us.
That doesn't mean we're trapped, though, Dudes. Awareness changes everything. It changes the way we dance in the wind, like a leaf suddenly changing shape so that the breeze blows it differently than before.
But we've gotta relax, and learn that it's okay to relax. Be like the sky, Dudes. It can't control how it looks, and its colors don't have any purpose beyond our ability to consciously appreciate them. "Nothing is fucked, Dude."
By the way, Dudes. I'm distancing myself from the Dudeist movement a bit. There got to be too much drama. I know, right? Drama in a community about taking it easy. What we're doin' here is something new, and you're all welcome aboard. Feel free to come up with some groovy names for it. The basic logic is:
- If we everything's nature, then there's nothing to worry about.
- Everything's nature.
- There's nothing to worry about.
Anyway, have fun out there Dudes, and stay safe. Until then, catch ya later on down the trail.
“Dude” Lee Glazier is a Dudeist Priest, Zen adherent and Taoist enthusiast from Golden, Colorado. He likes reading, writing, hiking, taking baths, listening to classic rock, drinking White Russians, smoking, and having the occasional acid flashback. The only thing he truly believes is that everyone needs to slow down, mellow out, and unwad their underpants. He feels that that would solve all the world’s problems in a heartbeat. “Do you have the patience to let the mud settle and the water clear?”
Editor: Amy Cushing
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