People figure “Dude” is something you either are or you aren’t. Like being tall, or left-handed, or the kind of guy who owns a lot of scented candles. You’ve got the vibe or you don’t, and the rest of us are just out here striving, man.
That’s not it. Being a Dude isn’t a personality you got handed at birth. It’s a way of moving through the whole durned human comedy, and it’s a lot older than the movie. Long before anybody tied a room together with a rug, folks in China and Japan were writing whole libraries about basically the same idea: quit pushing the river. It’s gonna get where it’s going without you.
So let’s take it easy and figure out, honestly, what makes a Dude. Turns out three old traditions all keep pointing at the same guy on the same couch.
Going With the Flow
the Taoist part
Taoism has this phrase, wu wei. People translate it “non-action,” which makes it sound like sitting around doing nothing, and hey, sometimes it is. But that’s not really the point. Wu wei is closer to effortless action. It’s water. Water doesn’t strain to get down the mountain. It just goes, around what it can’t move and through what it can. Give it enough time and it carves a canyon without ever once clenching its jaw.
The Dude runs on wu wei. No five-year plan. No networking. When the world hands him a problem, he doesn’t square up and grind against it. He leans, he yields, he lets the thing sort of resolve itself while he goes bowling. And here’s the part that gets people: it works. Not because he’s lazy. Because he’s not burning fuel fighting the current.
There’s an old Taoist idea about the “uncarved block,” a piece of wood before anybody’s turned it into a fancy table leg. It’s still got all its possibilities in it, on account of nobody’s forced it into a shape yet. That’s the Dude. Unfinished on purpose. Available.
“Water doesn’t strain to get down the mountain. It just goes, and carves a canyon without ever clenching its jaw.” — The watercourse way, more or less
Not Sweating the Rug
the Zen part
Zen brings in the second piece: not clinging.
Here’s the thing about the rug that tied the room together. The Dude loved that rug, then he lost that rug, and the whole story is what he does about it. And what he does, mostly, is not come apart over it. He’s bummed. He mentions it. Repeatedly. But he never lets the missing rug become the boss of his entire life.
That’s non-attachment, which might be the most misunderstood idea going. It doesn’t mean you don’t care about anything. It means you hold things loosely. You can love the rug and survive the rug being gone. You enjoy the good roll and you don’t fall apart on the bad one. Strikes and gutters, ups and downs, man.
Zen also talks about “beginner’s mind,” meeting the moment in front of you like you haven’t already decided what it is. Most of our stress isn’t the actual thing happening. It’s the story we’ve stapled on top of it. The Dude’s got a real talent for dropping the story and just dealing with the White Russian that’s actually in his hand.
Abiding
the Dudeist part, where it all lands
So where does Dudeism come in? Dudeism (and yeah, it’s a real ordained thing, some of us take this seriously…well, as serious as we can, anyway) took these old ideas, poured ’em over ice, and gave you one word to hang everything on. Learn more at Dudeism.com, or on the Dudeism page.
Abide.
To abide is to stay. To remain. To keep on keepin’ on without needing the situation to be one bit different than it is before you’ll let yourself be okay. It’s Taoism’s flow and Zen’s non-clinging standing in the same pair of sandals. “The Dude abides” isn’t him giving up. It’s him refusing to get jerked around by a world that’s real invested in getting him uptight.
And that’s the quietly radical thing here. The whole internet, the whole economy, half the people you’ll run into today, they all run on the idea that you’re not enough yet, that the next thing’ll fix it, that you oughta be striving harder. Abiding just… doesn’t buy it. Abiding says: I’m here, this’ll do, let’s see what happens.
So, What Actually Makes a Dude?
Not the robe. Not the bowling. Not even the beverage, fond as we are of it.
A Dude is somebody who’s quietly figured out that most of what stresses folks out doesn’t actually require a response. Who acts when it’s time to act and rests when it’s time to rest, and can usually tell which is which. Who cares about things without letting them run him. Who takes the strikes and the gutters as about the same weather.
And you don’t have to be born with it. Taoism, Zen, and Dudeism all agree on this part, which is decent of them: it’s a practice. You get a little more Dude every time you let a small thing go. Every time you pick the couch over the fight that wasn’t worth it. Every time you catch yourself pushing the river, and you stop.
That’s the pitch. There isn’t a part two.
Take it easy, man.
Ask the Man
Got a question the human comedy hasn’t answered? Ask the Dude — he’ll give you what he’d do, usually a little less than you figured you needed. Or go see the whole durned rack.
A parody and fan project inspired by Dudeism. Not affiliated with, endorsed by, or connected to the rights holders of “The Big Lebowski.” The Dude is a state of mind, man.