Getting Curiouser
“How puzzling all these changes are! I’m never sure what I’m going to be, from one minute to another.”
In Lewis Carroll’s classic novel Alice in Wonderland, Alice follows the white rabbit “down the rabbit hole”, a metaphor for an entry into the unknown, to go into a situation or begin a process or journey that is particularly strange, problematic, difficult, complex, or chaotic, especially one that becomes increasingly so as it develops or unfolds. It’s a phrase I’ve often used in times of unrest and uncertainty, especially during my own bouts with a rare blood disorder. I rely on my breathing practice to get centered and to be reminded that the rabbit hole is my own creation - the story I tell myself.
Deija is my 14-year-old meditation student, a budding photographer who is learning to use mindfulness to cope with epilepsy. I’ve witnessed how her breathing practice has helped her avoid seizures. I’m also happy to encourage her keen eye by finding ways to make our ‘round the block photo adventures apply to mindfulness. This way, I feel OK about taking her parents’ money. Today we went out with the intention of photographing subjects that made us feel aware. A broad definition, but the results were amazing.
“This picture you took reminds me of Alice In Wonderland,” Deija remarked. “I want to chug from the bottle she found labeled “Drink Me”, shrink down and climb right through that little door into adventure!”
“Being open to present moment experience with curiosity and a willingness to be with what is” is one meaning of mindfulness, and it certainly applies to my neighborhood walks with Deija. Most Sunday mornings as I approach Deija’s front door, her cat Apple has brought home a present – a bird, mouse, very large mouse - and I am the first to discover it “sleeping” on the welcome mat. I guess I’m willing to be with what is.
Photography has brought Deija and I closer, as we both have a passion for visual awareness. Today was a good lesson in an informal mindfulness practice, or mindful awareness, as opposed to the formal sitting meditation she’s been learning. We enjoy ‘being with what is’ out in the world, on a walk, taking pictures. Deija teaches me so much in return - about the lure of distraction, the impatience that never leaves one even as they get older, and the joy of discovering – and rediscovering - the things you love. She has brought me back to my own photography in ways I never imagined possible. I look at the world with fresh eyes.
I hightailed it from Deija’s house in Venice to the East side of Los Angeles to see my dear friend Alice, fresh from her first round of chemotherapy. While I was in art school at Michigan, Alice was a grad student and a weekend DJ at the famed Rubiyat dance club in Ann Arbor. I revered her then, and I still do. She’s a well-respected professor, renowned author and humble music aficionado. What could I possibly have to teach her? Apparently, present moment experience.
“How am I right now?” I asked Alice to consider, to refrain from catastrophizing one’s story, to try not to create tall tales around health and be with things just as they are. She’s brave and tougher than she realizes, breathing through a scary diagnosis, a badass that’s open to self-compassion. It didn’t dawn on me to make the connection of this particular Alice and the rabbit hole until days later, but I know from experience that facing your mortality can easily take you down. She’s navigating hers with grace and strength and I am confident she will be OK.
My next stop was an art opening/memorial combo. Having succumbed to complications of a brain aneurism at age 48, Lexie was an amazing artist, neighbor, mom, and friend. At this celebration of Lexie’s art and life, I couldn’t help but think how happy she would have been to see her community snapping up her work on display, dancing, eating and connecting. During her last weeks, she was alert enough to tell her husband Austin “I’m ready to go” and bravely took to the path through that mysterious door, like Lewis Carroll’s Alice.
I went to see Lexie in the hospital and though her bright lights were on, there was nobody home, or at least that’s how it appeared. It was a devastating reminder of the preciousness of each day, and how life can change in an instant. This beautiful, vibrant young woman lay there, eyes wide open, as I put my hand on her chest and led a breathing meditation. I don’t know if I reached her, but I hope she felt my presence and love.
Saturday was a profound day, reminders at morning noon and night that we are all hanging by a thread, to be “curiouser and curiouser” like Alice in the book, unafraid of the rabbit hole. We can choose fear or decide to walk through the little portal into adventure, making the most of whatever time we have here on earth.