On the joys of tumbling down rabbit holes

Sometimes being a little mad is the sanest response to the way things are

Detail of Arthur Rackham’s illustration for Alice's adventures in Wonderland (1907) print in high resolution by Lewis Carroll. Original from the Yale University Art Gallery.

Welcome to your Saturday Side Quest.

Side Quest (noun), as defined by the Urban Dictionary: An impromptu adventure or diversion undertaken by an individual, typically outside the realm of one’s primary goals or responsibilities, often characterized by spontaneous actions and unconventional activities.

Dreams of tumbling down metaphorical rabbit holes have been slipping through gaps in my conscious thoughts all week long. Whenever my brain finds itself with a rare moment of quiet, I see visions of Alice falling through space accompanied by books, candles, the odd cat, and teacups still filled with sloshing tea. Alternatively, I think about actual rabbits bolting like dark lightning through the undergrowth to disappear into literal holes — cozy tunnels and burrows of sweet, dark earth transformed into living velvet by the rhythmic dancing of delicate paws.

I wonder what this says about my state of mind.

I suppose, on one hand, I feel a little like Alice in that every waking day feels like we have fallen into an alternate world where up is down, black is white, and everyone is living in fear of having their head cut off by a seriously deranged self-appointed monarch who has no regard for the law, common decency, or objective reality. It’s a frightening place to be and it’s just surreal enough to keep us unbalanced and disoriented.

In response to this state of affairs, I do feel fairly constant, low-level urges to either freeze or flee, both of which are common survival strategies of our long-eared friends. Earlier this week I succumbed to an impromptu and mostly involuntary nap (my version of freezing), and I readily admit that going to ground in a rabbit warren has a certain undeniable appeal similar to our collective desire to run away to a cottage in the forest.

All these thoughts of rabbits — white or otherwise — and rabbit holes reminded me of a classic meme comparing rabbits and hares.

As far as I can tell, the original version of this delightful juxtaposition is a Facebook post from someone named RobotLyra (who is apparently still on Tumblr). The text reads:

I love lagomorphs, because on the one side you have sweet round bois, and on the other side you have feral wilderness prophets who have gone mad with the knowledge of the universe

Pikas and rabbits: basically im baby, give grass plz

Jackrabbits and hares: WITH THESE EARS I CAN DETECT THE APPROACH OF THE ENEMY BUT I AM CURSED TO HEAR THE WHISPERS OF GOD

Well, if that doesn’t shift my perspective a bit.

I do love rabbits, but perhaps I need to start embracing my inner hare.

The Japanese folk story of the Moon Rabbit tells how the benevolent rabbit leaps into the campfire of a moon god who is disguised as a beggar in search of a meal. For his self sacrifice, the rabbit is rewarded with a home on the moon. I suppose, in a way, it’s a lovely story of boundless generosity, but I’m not sure it’s the right energy for this moment.

The hare, on the other hand, is apparently a prophet with a direct line to the cosmos. Alice had her mad March Hare, who some point out may have had held hidden wisdom. An article on the Carleton College website has this to say:

… the March Hare also proves himself to be one of the most philosophical characters of the book, as is demonstrated in this exchange with Alice:

"and they drew all manner of things--everything that begins with an M--"
"Why with an M?" said Alice.
"Why not?" said the March Hare.

“Why not” indeed. The March Hare challenges Alice’s judgments, just as his inclusion challenges our judgment of just what exactly it means to be mad.

I don’t know. It seems like being at least a little mad is the sanest response to the state of the world right now.

Not to mention that in many mythologies around the world hares are associated with witches, either as familiars or as a the creature a shapeshifting witch becomes, usually to escape a human predator. As a woman, I can see the value of such a skill.

In addition to all my solo musing, I also took a tumble down the rabbit hole of medieval rabbit marginalia yesterday with some writing friends, one of whom is — in addition to being a fabulous writer — an actual medieval historian. The precursor to our collective journey was a Note from @ Sarah Crowder featuring some needle felted marginalia characters created by her mum:

The caption reads:

My mum has made some Medieval marginalia come to life, with wool and barbed needles. This is Percival and Dave, and if you know what book they’re from then you can be best friends with my mum.

I love Percival and Dave. (And, for those who need to know, they are apparently from the Luttrell psalter, circa 1320-1330.)

Anyway, this was one piece of what captured our imagination, and before you know it we were happily chasing that bit of curiosity into the past to commune with other marginalia monsters, including — wait for it — a rather large contingency of axe and spear-wielding rabbits with a thirst for blood.

Here’s a taste:

Fun, right? Those are some badass bunnies.

For those of you who have been hanging out with me for a while, you’ll note that this weekend’s “Saturday Side Quest” post is a little different from previous ones. Usually, I tie the focus of this post into whatever I wrote about earlier in the week, and I give you a little bit of “homework” — a suggested mini adventure or gentle challenge.

This week, I just wasn’t feeling it. We all have enough to contend with without someone giving us more to worry about or feel guilty about not doing. So, instead of an assignment, I offer you a no-pressure invitation to follow your own curiosity down whatever rabbit holes are calling your name. May that whimsical adventure bring you joy and comfort.

Have fun & I’ll see you next week.