My dad showed me this old book he found this morning – Journeys to Bagdad by Charles S. Brooks, published in 1915.
There's a chapter called "Maps and Rabbit-Holes" that he wanted to read to me, and it struck me - so i thought i’d share!
A rabbit-hole, Brooks writes – like Alice in Wonderland – is a portal into adventure. The escape from the normal physical plane of life into its third dimension...
As kids, we were going down rabbit holes on the daily.
We’d all of the sudden get into a pirate phase and be obsessed with Jack Sparrow. Or dinasours. Or space. Or Harry Potter.
We’d decide we had an imaginary friend.
We’d just make things up in our imagination.
We’d have the most wild visualizations before bed and in our dreams.
But now what…
The question stings a little: why do so few of us go down rabbit holes anymore?
There are men, Brookes writes, however few, who although they are beyond forty, “retain in themselves a fine zest for adventure.”
He describes a friend who works all day, building a business, making himself known in the world – but who goes into the most delightful creative states, teaching himself piano and making music in the evenings. He also often gets lost in flower gardens. And loses himself in random books.
Then he tells of a dinner with another successful businessman. An orchestra was playing. When it finished, this businessman told Brooks that if he could write music like that, he would devote himself to it.
Brooks's response is striking: if that longing were real, then the man owes it to himself to explore it. Maybe he won't end up writing music for a living or anything like that – but by following the impulse, he might discover something in himself that becomes a source of rest and inspiration… or maybe it morphs into something else that becomes his life’s purpose and mission.
And then the closing line, which I'll just give you whole:
"There are many places uncharted that are worth a visit. Treasure Island is somewhere on the seas, the still-vex'd Bermoothes feel the wind of some southern ocean, the coast of Bohemia lies on the furthermost shore of fairyland – all of these wonderful, like white towers in the mind. But nearer home, as near as the pirates' den that we built as children, within sight of our firelight, should come the dreams and thoughts that set us free from sordidness, that teach our minds versatility and sympathy, that create for us hobbies and avocations of worth, that rest and refresh us. If we must be ocean liners all day, plodding between known and monotonous ports, at least we may be tramp ships at night, cargoed with strange stuffs and trafficking for lonely and unvisited seas."
Read that again. The writing is amazing.
In short, he's saying: yes, there are grand adventures out there in the world you can go to – countries you’ve never been to, mythical islands, faraway cultures. But you don't have to go far.
The rabbit-hole is closer than you think.
It's in the dreams and hobbies and quiet pursuits that pull you out of the mundane and remind you that life is more than routine.
If your days have to be predictable… the same routes, the same ports… at least let your nights be strange. Let yourself wander somewhere uncharted, even if it's just in your mind, even if it's just for an hour.
Something to sit with today...
-Arlin
