Little Lessons From Alice In Wonderland

The Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Art, Prints and Photographs: Picture Collection, The New York Public Library. (1901). The rabbit started violently, dropped the white kid gloves and the fan, and skurried away into the darkness as fast as he could go. Retrieved from https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/6cb4e924-d2cd-a6ec-e040-e00a18064787

Opportunity doesn’t always knock, because sometimes there isn’t a door. Sometimes opportunity is more of a whisper, a gentle nudge, a “possible prospect.” Planning is fine, but doing nothing but executing plans, plodding forward, eyes on the ground, day after day, negates a lot of possibilities. Raise your eyes, or risk missing (or not recognizing) the potential adventure that awaits. This serendipity of circumstance has occurred several times in my life. Joining a conversation with strangers on a subway platform has resulted in not one, but two lifelong friendships. Then there was asking foreign travelers in Central Park if they need help, and following that path to the never-before-thought-of-conclusion of translating from Danish a children’s book about death that went on to win the ALA’s Batchelder Award. “Curiouser and curiouser.”

This got me thinking about Alice in Wonderland, a favorite over many years.

Wonderland turns out to be a very fine institution of higher learning, with a sharp focus on business, and a broader focus on Life, with a capital L. While its curriculum may be a bit disorganized, the lessons are succinct, and therefore easily understood. So, as Wonderland Professor “The King” puts it, gravely, let’s “Begin at the beginning, go on until you come to the end, then stop.” So, let’s follow Alice as she tired of reading, slipped down the Rabbit Hole, and encountered all those adjunct professors – including the Dodo, the Mad Hatter, the Dormouse, and the Walrus—who were there to teach her some lessons. We’ll be visiting Wonderland U. from time to time.

Stay Open To Opportunity

Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and, burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it…

Ah, the virtue of curiosity, especially when combined with action... Follow the rabbit, the unusual, not imprudently, and not necessarily for adventure (and not because it’s some kind of new drug that promises nirvana, truly, this time), but because curiosity, far from killing the cat, can lead to very surprising places. You may think you are on the track of something, but wait, because you’re not going through the hedge, you’re going down the Rabbit Hole. As in, “Hey, I never thought of that.” Be alert for the chance off to the side. It’s what happens in science all the time. You think you’re working on a heart medication, but it turns out to provide really stunning erections for those who need that kind of thing. When the rabbit hole beckons, give it some serious consideration.

New Poems For Voice-over For PocketBear Video Piece

In the summer of 2021, Anthony Caruso was commissioned to direct a short film that took place in Lancaster, Pennsylvania—a short adaptation of the opening sequence of the play "Our Town", by Thorton Wilder. (This short is available on YouTube and is titled "Your Town.") On location in Lancaster Anthony took a camera and filmed his own footage around this small city in the middle of the state, and he will be making a short video piece with his findings. To accompany it, I wrote this poem to be used as voice over to the video. This poem is a reflections on the imagined process, the place, and how the pandemic continues to shape our perceptions of cities, towns, and ourselves.

---

There is a street, a straight street.
There is an avenue, it is a venue, a place
For gathering, for taking in and giving out
For knowing, gaining knowledge
For shedding or embracing ignorance.

There is another street, a winding street
One lane encompasses, another lane comprises
And there are highways, ways to height
Ways that work against diminished effort,
Move us from senescence into sedentary, then
To necessary movement.

There is a road, a road I follow
To constructions I have built
Erections that I comprehend
Confound all expectations.
I vilify their non-emergent energies
Striking chords of discourse and disdain.

Where is the road, the highway, the route?
Where is the lane, the street, the river?
Where will I know, intuit, divine?
What will appear around that corner?

Does it lurk? Does it wait in hope?
Does it forbear? Does it foretell?
Can I know what I know?
When? Where? How?
And most of all Why?

Something About Life

The following short piece was originally published by The New York Times in the Metropolitan Diary on September 19, 2021. Follow this link to read it with the other pieces from that day.

---

Something About Life

Dear Diary:

On one of the winter’s last snowy evenings, I was walking through the Village, heading for an uptown train with my umbrella, scarf and galoshes and intent on avoiding the icy spots on the pavement.

A young man, probably in his mid-20s, in a black pea coat and hoodie, approached me. I was prepared for him to ask me directions to the New School or the PATH train.

He stopped directly in front of me with a guileless look on his face.

“Tell me something about life,” he said.

Interesting assignment.

“It’s important to be present,” I said. “Stay in each moment as long as you can.”

He was still looking at me.

“And put worry away; it’s generally useless.”

He continued to stand there.

“That OK?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, and then he walked off through the snow.

— Robert Moulthrop