I Heart Moe

I treated myself to David O. Sullivan's film "I Heart Huckabees" twice in the past two days, and each time my daughter Moe came forcefully into my mind. The movie is wonderful. It rolls in the mud of life, literally and figuratively, just as Moe has been rolling in the mud lately. Her long-term live-in boyfriend ended their relationship (he left her a note and moved out) and of course her self-esteem took a blow. She became critical of her face, her body, her hair, just like all good women, taught to please men, will do when their man leaves. She even had "leukemia" for a while, her mind self-annihilating. And she did what any normal woman would do. She looked for validation in another man. Of course this is flawed action, but it was even more flawed in Moe's case, because after her musician left, she chose a poet. She told me about visiting his apartment one night and experiencing the aftermath of his cyclone life, with debris everywhere. Wads of paper, open books, piles of clothing, stuff everywhere. AJ, who is living with Moe, imagined (and recited with emotion!) long romantic sonnets that Moe's poet must be writing. No poem was ever good enough, of course (hence the wadded piles of paper) because words could never reach the true depths of his feeling for Moe.

How could I not think of her, then, when the main character of "I Heart Huckabees" is a deep-thinking poet/environmentalist who tries to prevent corporate destruction of the environment in part through trying to change the way people see the world by sharing his poetry? Some women are drawn to dreamers. But that is another blog.

Moe, a dancer, left Michigan when she was 18 years old with $100 in her pocket. She rode the bus to New York City and pulled herself up by her bootstraps, alone, with almost no help from a mother who was going to grad school full time, working full time and trying her best to raise three other kids while living in poverty. In "I Heart Huckabees" the poet/environmentalist is shown by a French existentialist detective that "he was orphaned by indifference". I wonder, sometimes, if Moe felt orphaned by indifference. Sometimes overwork, or poverty or depression can seem like indifference. Maybe they are no different.

Moe's experience as an orphan has hardened her. But not entirely. There remains a sprout that is green and healthy. It is rooted in her heart and its strong offshoots bring health and rejuvination and love and softening to every cell of her body and mind and spirit. Searching out the darkest parts, it brings self-acceptance and tolerance and rest.

Self reliance is an illusion, Moe. You are interconnected with and dependant on all beings. All is not lost. Let the universe console you.