Category: The Rabbit Hole

A short story by Sydney Solon (Gallatin BA ’21)

Lake Winnipesaukee is said to contain at least 264 islands. I do not like to write where I am, because my mind is always elsewhere. But, for the time being, I am in quarantine in a lakefront house with large, trapezoid windows that look out on Lake Winnipesaukee, New Hampshire.

Outside these windows, there is an island at a point in the near distance that has lately been poking at my curiosity. The water which separates me and the island is volatile today. Other days, it remains so still that throwing a stone into the glass water would open a wormhole into a parallel reality, one of subterranean lake people who at night come to dance on the shoreline, and in the daytime, float leisurely just below the surface of the water.

The island in the distance, from where I stand, appears to be void of houses or boats docked on its shore. It seems to be inhabited by evergreen trees, or are they pine? I had never given much thought to differentiate types of trees. To me, they are all the same, they grow upwards, or sometimes they die. These trees seem particularly dense. The only way to discern where the lake ends and the island shore begins is the point at which the tides collapse, a whiplash of foam meeting those whatever-they-call-it trees.

On this island, from where I am writing this, there are people here. I have passed them on my morning runs. These humans have packed up their bags from New York City or Boston, escaping to their summer homes while the world around them is swallowed into global pandemic. They seem just like you and me, They offer a neighborly wave, maintaining a reasonable distance from the sound of my shoes on pavement. They step to the side of the road when we pass each other, and while we exchange pleasantries, they are living in fear of a force unknown. I am living in fear of a force unknown.

Astronomers believe that there are 10 trillion planets in the universe. On this planet, in this time, I entertain myself by believing that there are other forms of life on the 264 islands on Lake Winnipesaukee. There must be lake people who come out at night to dance on the shoreline, and in the daytime, float leisurely just below the surface of the water. There must be people that inhabit that Island not so far from my field of vision, and they must live a life similar to those under the belly of the lake. They are people who gather together and enjoy the splendors of food, drink, and dance. At night, they may congregate around a fire in the middle of the island, sharing stories with each other, feeling the warmth of a deep, shared connection. I imagine they run barefoot on fallen leaves, invincible, with no fear of splinters or open wounds, and in the middle of the day, sleep under the sunbeams able to permeate the dense leaves of those whatever-they-call-it trees.

By Alex Hanson (Gallatin BA ’18)

Three one-act plays revolving around one fictional season of America’s most romantic reality show— performed over video conference.

Starring: Alejandro Cervantes, Ariana Divalentino, Eddie Perino and Tess Speranza

Written and Directed by: Alex Hanson

Edited by: Tom Fields // Music by: Gabe Miller // Cover Art by: Mollie Suss

By Lily Liu (Gallatin BA ’22)

Jiama is a kind of religious woodcut prints, either on paper or on pieces of clothes, that people use to communicate with the gods in the hope of getting what they wish for. Jiama paper of the Bai nation combines deities from Buddhism, Taosim, and Bai indigenous beliefs (usually Benzhu). The format of Jiama is, or rather was, prevalent among the territories of China. During the cultural revolution, Jiama was labeled as “Fengjian Mixin” (封建迷信), and therefore formally banned. But some artists preserved the woodcuts;  in other cases, the woodcut templates are destroyed but the Jiama prints are preserved, and when the upheavals are over, people use these prints to recreate the original woodcuts.

When exactly Jiama is first widely used among the Bai nation is a controversial topic. Most people maintain that it was introduced around the Tang Dynasty and has been around since then, while some scholars argue that Jiama has been around ever since the Han-Jin period. What both groups agree on, is the fact that Jiama was definitely around since the Ming Dynasty, when Han people, the cultural majority today, colonized Yunnan area.

By Barbara J. Simon (Gallatin ’82)

By Barbara J. Simon (Gallatin ’82)

Women’s bodies are amazing. The things that flow through a woman – the light in flashing eyes, the heat of burning lips, the tenderness of a healing touch – love, milk, children. All these things have a holy element. Fashion, at its best, can bring a woman’s personal beauty to the surface for all to see, regardless of her age.

• The Wardrobe

When I was 12 years old, and my body was beginning the long road to womanhood, my cousin introduced me to The Chronicles of Narnia, and I became a C.S. Lewis fan for life. Oh, how I longed to walk into that magic wardrobe! To put on an oversized fur coat like the siblings Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy did as they walked from the inside of the wardrobe through to another dimension, into the outdoor wintery landscape of Narnia. What an adventure to find a secret country, private legends, and a mythology that prophesied my own arrival through a divine portal. This year, I was delighted to discover that my pastor was using the first book of The Chronicles of Narnia (The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe) as his sermon theme for the entire season of Lent. 

• Adult Science Fiction from C.S. Lewis

As a senior in High School, C.S. Lewis’s Space Trilogy became the next series of his books to captivate me – so much so that I wrote my final English term paper on these science fiction stories. What a surprise to discover that, at the end of the last book, the adult women characters find their way into the same wardrobe that is first introduced in his children’s stories. These characters find a more mature magic waiting for them there. Here is a piece of their conversation as they help each other dress for the festive climax of the tale:

“What is it made of?” said Camilla, fingering and then smelling the green mantle. It was a question worth asking. It was not in the least transparent yet all sorts of lights and shades dwelled in its rippling folds and it flowed through Camilla’s hands like a waterfall. Ivy became interested.

“Gor!” she said. “How much a yard would it be?”

“There,” said Mother Dimble as she draped it skillfully around Ivy. Then she said, “Oh!” in genuine amazement. All three stood back from Ivy staring at her with delight. The commonplace had not gone from her form and face, the robe had taken it up, as a great composer takes up a folk tune and tosses it like a ball through his symphony and makes of it a marvel, yet leaves it still itself. A “pert fairy” or “dapper elf,” a small though perfect sprightliness, stood before them: but still recognizably Ivy Maggs.

“Isn’t that like a man!” exclaimed Mrs. Dimble, “There’s not a mirror in the room.”

“I don’t believe we were meant to see ourselves,” said Jane. “He said something about being mirrors enough to see another.”

                                                           – C. S. Lewis, That Hideous Strength

• The Women’s Clothing Swap

In the last decade, I’ve enjoyed the company of women in several spiritual communities where we shared a “Women’s Clothing Swap.” The one I attended most recently is advertised as an annual opportunity for all the participants to clear our closets of seldom worn garments in time for Spring’s renewal. We have a pleasant afternoon bidding on clothes to raise money for a specific local charity event before the remainders are donated to local thrift shops. But it has become much more than that. 

The hostess offers her home for the event, and some guests provide homemade brunch items, fresh fruit, and muffins. The church members invite friends, and it’s a party atmosphere as women start the bidding on anything from a cashmere sweater to sporty hat to sequined gown for $2 – and bid to a higher price for the more popular items. Once, the bidding went up to $25 for a black leather jacket, with just the right amount of wear to suggest a dangerous lifestyle. The pleasure and enthusiasm of the day often lead women to put larger donations, in addition to what they bid, into the collection envelope. 

Sometimes, while wearing one of my “new” garments to Sunday morning service, I’ve encountered another woman from the event, who donated the item I’m wearing. Each outfit is worn differently by the woman who inhabits it, and this leads to a deeper conversation between us: a new camaraderie, a wholesome appreciation of each other’s good taste and unique beauty.

• My Wish

It is my wish that spiritual communities could embrace this kind of celebration as part of their mission. How amazing to have found that the divinity inside me can be accessed through an adult woman’s figure – with style, fabric, colors, patterns, and textures. And to see other women, with their own original beauty shining through, each in their own way – to rejoice in them finding their authentic light. We can be the reflection of each other’s beauty – to be “mirrors enough to see another.” Finally, my inner child is delighted to realize that I can enter the fabled wardrobe, and witness its magic firsthand.

By Matias Alvial (Gallatin BA’19)

“Pill Time, Ladies” is a self-portrait that tracks my progress on antidepressants. It is a work that celebrates the possibility of getting better, hints at the fear of drug dependence, and dramatizes my mania (for instance, the euphoric feelings of thankfulness and overconfidence).

Read more about the creative process here  IG: @matialvial