I wasn’t looking for a revelation at the farmers’ market. Just a slow wander, eyes skimming over peaches, eggplants, & fragrant basil. Then, I saw it—a tomato so dark it was nearly black, its skin taut, marked by a pale, star-like scar where the stem had been.
I stopped. Stared. Picked one up. I’ve known tomatoes my whole life—in kitchens where olive oil pooled in earthenware, where hands shaped dough on floured wood, where the scent of simmering pots carried stories older than the walls. But never this. Never a tomato so dark it seemed to hold the night within its skin.
The grower, a woman of Indian descent, smiled. “Black Cherry Tomatoes,” she said.
That was it. The rabbit hole opened.
It was a weight thing. The roundness of it. The way my fingers knew the feel of it before my brain caught up. And suddenly, I wasn’t in the market anymore. I was in my aunt’s house, leaning against the billiard table, watching her line up a shot. The lacquered balls, the deep polish, the way the light bent over their curves. The tomato sat in my palm, marked with the same quiet geometry—smooth, weighted, holding a history within its skin.
I bought a whole bag. Not because I needed them, but because I needed to understand them.
At home, I fell straight in. Black Cherry Tomatoes—heirlooms, passed down through generations, their darkness owed to anthocyanins, the same pigments that give blueberries their depth. The star at the top? A natural imprint, left by the calyx pressing into the skin as the fruit ripens.
That should have been enough. But now, I was thinking about billiard balls.
Early ones were carved from ivory, each tusk yielding only a few. Later, celluloid was introduced as a synthetic alternative—until they discovered that under just the right conditions, these balls could explode on impact. (Imagine lining up your perfect shot only for the table to stage a tiny mutiny.) The game itself? Pure physics. Angles, resistance, force—every shot a calculation, every motion dictated by an unseen formula.
And that’s when I saw it—the deeper connection. Not just shape. Not just markings. Movement.
A billiard ball, struck just so, follows a path determined by its surroundings. A tomato, though slower in its journey, is no different—shaped by wind in the vines, the weight of its own growth, the hand that plucks it & sends it rolling. Both are objects caught in stillness just before they shift again.
I imagined setting a Black Cherry Tomato on a billiard table, watching it sit for just a breath before it tipped & rolled, nudged by some invisible force. Like the billiard balls themselves, which, when knocked too hard, would drop from the table & disappear—into woven pockets, like macramé socks, stretched just enough to catch them; in other tables into openings where they’d roll down unseen channels, landing with a quiet finality. One moment in play, the next, gone. A different kind of rabbit hole, where things vanish, waiting to be retrieved.
I wanted to ask the grower more, but she was busy, hands moving swiftly from one customer to the next. The rhythm of trade pulled her forward, & I let the moment pass.
So, I left with my questions intact, my curiosity only half-fed.
But I’ll return next week, find her again. I know she had another name for them, but my mind was already headfirst down the hole, & all I can remember are the letters Y & U. Perhaps that was her name for them… perhaps I’m imagining something altogether. This time, I’ll wait for the pause, the moment between transactions when the weight of a question lingers just long enough to be answered. The other kind of rabbit hole—the in-person kind, unfolding in real time, through conversation, through the hands of those who grow the things we eat.
I so enjoyed this prompt, Suleika, & reading of Jon’s explorations, of how both your curiosities works. Starting with a tomato, & before you know it, you’re knee-deep in billiard ball manufacturing, exploding plastics, ancient cultivation, & the mathematics of motion. And maybe that’s the real beauty of it—not the answers, but the sheer thrill of not knowing where the next turn will take you.
Oh indeed, Holly, I adore heirlooms. I’ve a patent leather bag—Sonia Rykiel collection from many a moon past. Every time I spy an heirloom, I whisper Rykiel, as if she herself could hear me, sending a nod upon the winds, answering yes, indeed—the inspiration for such.
Tomatoes are so much fun! The names alone - Mortgage Lifter, Mr. Stripey, Cherokee Purple, Green Zebra - bring me joy. And a tomato sandwich is my favorite meal. Your writing is transportive! I pinched a nerve in my neck last week - ack! - but reading about that magic tomato beckoning you at the market whisked me away on an adventure.
Oh, Sarah—Mortgage Lifter, Mr. Stripey, Cherokee Purple, Green Zebra—what a lineup! The sheer poetry of their names is almost enough to satisfy, & yet, there’s still the bite, the sweetness, the sun-ripened perfection of a tomato sandwich. I’m so sorry about your pinched nerve (ack! indeed!), but I’m delighted the Black Cherry & its quiet magic carried you off for a moment. Wishing you swift healing & many more tomato-filled adventures ahead.
Oh, Laurie—thank you. What a joy to know you were there too, holding that tomato, seeing it as I did. That’s the magic of words, isn’t it? They let us stand in the same moment, even miles apart. Grateful to share this little journey with you. 🍅✨
Fascinating - i plan to grow some Black Krim Tomatoes in my garden this year. The magic of movement. Rabbit hole history. All connected. I loved this curiosity journey with you today, Kim. Thank you.
Oh, Pat—Black Krim! What a beauty to have growing in your garden. Deep, rich, a little unruly in the best way. May they thrive & surprise you, much like this curiosity journey we’ve wandered down together. So grateful you came along. 🍅✨
Beautiful art transports me deeply and far beyond my small self to place of wonder. Your post did just this for me today. Thank you for sharing your sweet rabbit hole!
Oh, Julia—what a beautiful thought, that art & words can carry us beyond ourselves, into wonder. I’m so glad this little rabbit hole swept you up for a moment. Thank you for wandering with me. ✨🐇🍅
THIS. <3 :::insert infinite, glorious, roaring claps::: thank you for allowing us to enter your rabbit hole so eloquently, so graciously, so poignantly. I believe this just may be my favourite comment ever read on the isolation journals thread. :::gasp!:::
Ariana—:::gasp!::: what a response! If ever there were a way to bottle up joy, it might just be in infinite, glorious, roaring claps. I’m honoured you tumbled down this rabbit hole with me & so grateful for your words—they feel like a standing ovation of the soul. ✨🐇🍅
Rachel—stripes are yours! Though I can’t say the tomato held its own at the table, it certainly had a presence. Perhaps next time, we’ll set the Black Cherry in motion & see if it has a trick shot in it. Thanks for coming along for the ride! 🍅🎱✨
Thank you for sharing Suleika! I am so excited for your book tour! I will be at the Brooklyn show!!
About seven months ago I lost my job and battle some health issues. I have had many interviews some not so great offers and a lot of pauses but still no results. During this time I need to find a new outlet so I joined this group. I tired a few different new hobbies but landed on painting and writing. These new creativity acts have led to start writing a memoir, for inspiration and guidance I have been reading a ton of memoirs trying to find out which direction I want to take for mine. Its been such a pleasure working on it has led me to a lot of self discovery and healing. And need to want to understand more about the process of creativity and psychology as well. It has made see what I can do, not what I thought I couldn’t.
Hello All. I love Rabbit Holes. And worm holes!. I love this "I used to feel a sense of shame around that, thinking it was a weakness—that I was easily distracted. But as the years pass and all my past interests, from design to music to dogs to writing, reemerge and cohere in my adult life, as I braid them together, I feel the urge to change that story, to tell my inner critic to pipe down—I’m not some distractible procrastinator. I’m curious, and the best and most interesting things happen when I follow my curiosity." Thank you for such a beautiful way to look. I went through a journey with your announcement of excitement and sadness to acceptance. I live in Pittsburgh so I thought maybe Phil. However with much discussions with my husband it is not possible with my health and caregiver of my mom. However if you decided to record any show and sell those recordings I am first in line for tickets!!
Ooh how I hear you Suleika. The curious, insane comfort/maddening self-destruction of the rabbit WARREN. Burrow down, internet oneself stupid on themes we don’t even know exist whilst, in my case, knowing I might not live until I’m 60????
Bonkers!
At the same time, maybe quietly our creative selves are building their own holes and borrows and ta-da up will pop something wild!
Little gems of wonder are found down there in the soil.
I am so tempted to hop on a plane to the US to one of your events! 🤪🙏🏽💙🙌🏽💚
My spirit will be there!
All love and solidarity to the Isolation Jornal crew far and wide!
Thanks for this Newsletter, dear Suleika! I am so happy that I am not the only one who falls down the rabbit hole as a result of my fascination with the world and genuine curiosity.
When I am fascinated by a certain topic/persona, I often "save" these facts and information in a special drawer of my head that I jokingly call "random facts about random events and people that I might/or might not use sometime to impress people at dinners/or just randomly sprinkle it during conversations".
I often joke about it in my head - why the urge, why the hunger after more and more information (sometimes about very bizare things!). But the truth is, I can't help it. I see the world as contextual puzzle. Everything is connected and intertwined and the more I know, the more I am confused about the complexity of everything, but somehow, it is more clear, leads to more understanding (even empathy?). Not that the world makes more sense after that, but at some level it gives me weird peace in mind and feeds my hungry mind.
One of the last things I was hooked with is life and art of a Slovenian architekt Josip Plecnik. I was mainly fascinated by the contrast between his modest and deeply religious personal life and his phenomenaly brave buildings that were very courageous for the beginning of the 20th century. He was often mocked, not understood, but he believed in himself, his philosophy, his way that he never gave up.
And that's that. Random facts about random people on Sunday morning, there you go.
Wishing my fellow bookworms a blissful day! 🙌❤️
And to everyone who is able to attend Suleika's booktour - enjoy enjoy enjoy and share your pics & thoughts, can't wait!
I had buried my curiosity, for reasons, but today is about the Sublime Rabbit Hole! My recent deep dive is "Where is that on the Earth?" The most curious thing to me, is that it concerns the travelings of Jesus. I long ago gave up my Catholic upbringing and since watching "The Chosen" have begun to sesarch out the cultutral and historical events surrounding his recorded time on Earth. So many maps, and while down this Rabbit Hole, I am deeply entrenched in the borders created by people to (as it is everywhere on Earth now) clearly demarcate, "This is mine, this is yours." I still have 5,000,000 questions. Part of my searching has led me to the food of these areas. What strikes me, is how similar the various foods are, even though the people and their worship is different. It made me wonder, "Do the women of the different areas, feel the same as the men?" "What if the women were in charge?"
I'm neurodivergent and go down rabbit holes ALL THE TIME! I'm late diagnosed (im in my 40's and dx last year) and i definitely used to consider it a character flaw. Now I view it has an amazing trait of mine and it makes life so much more interesting.
Good Morning, one leads to another and another. I change the same furniture with relish, going up and down the stairs. Books lead to books, names to stories, streets to history. Now their are so many different rabbit holes. Several friends are birders, of which "My eyes are on the Sparrow"...others are massive menu keepers and makers.. I lost interest back when cooking was required. Rabbit Holes and the appreciation of such are needed.. more than ever..
During the pandemic, I opened my grandmother’s hope chest I had been gifted (finally) by my mother on her paring down her home. It contained an old black scrap book wth black and white photos of a family, friends, a whole life, meticulously documented, Yet, I only recognized my grandmother, a few others. I began my journey down the ancestry rabbit hole with the goal of finding each person in each photograph. All the smiling faces, and jaunty poses intrigued me. I burrowed down into the years, building a tree on the ancestry site and each face brought another fascinating story, children orphaned and rehomed, families cobbled together in one home, yet celebrating, dressing up and arms around each other, living the lives as hard as they were, together. By the end, I found the entire photo book, I knew all the intricacies of all the relationships and intertwining of families, the early sad deaths, the stints in the asylums, the jobs and divorces. I don’t know where to put all this information, my grown children have no pull to the past as I do but the satisfaction of knowing seems to sustain me enough. My grandmother lived wth me growing up, I knew her as a child knows a grandparent she died when I was twelve. I only wish I could converse wth her now, when people choose famous people they wish to meet from the past, its my grandmother I choose, holding that book and laughing at her reminisces.
I would love to go to one of your book tours, Suleika, but none are in my area, so looking forward to pictures from any who take them.
When it became apparent that our great grandchildren were not going to need a playroom at our house anymore, I decided to take everything out and make myself a room just for me. My husband has a hobby shop in back of the house. I soon found myself spending way too much time shopping online, shopping thrift stores, etc. I wanted a pink room, my favorite color. The walls were painted white but the room’s contents were going to be pink shades. Pink is a calming color for me. I was always told I look so pretty in pink. My most expensive item was a rocking recliner,totally electric. To get the right color it was special ordered. I was getting further down the rabbit hole, planning, searching and decorating my pink room. I even bought a pink dog bed for our little dog, who refuses to go into it. She prefers the area rug, which is not pink. A few people gave me things for my pink room and I accepted them and used them, even though they were not something I would have chosen, myself. I smile every time I walk by my new room, even if I can’t go into it for a while. It’s now my pink/quiet/serenity room.🩷
I feel like I am a rabbit. I think the more exploratory question for me may be what happens when you leave the rabbit hole?! I know I don’t like leaving it. I am most content when pursuing my curiosity. It’s comfy in there.
Rabbit holes are really good things! I've been down a labyrinth making Rabbit hole and I made a beautiful connection with an old French man on the beach.
I never thought of all my different interests and curiosities as rabbit holes. So interesting to hear it called that. And especially not worm holes. It's not that I get distracted so easily, but that I have many interests and want to know everything about everything. OK. So I go off on tangents or into them. I like what you said about your totally organized sock drawer. Mine not so much. Maybe it's hard to buckle down and do the work and actually finish something because once it's done, it's over. And we have to move forward to something else. It's almost like losing a part of ourselves.
Much fun and success on your book tour. Wish I still lived in San Francisco so I could meet you.
A “scut” refers to the short, erect tail of certain animals, notably rabbits, hares, and deer. In these animals, the scut is often noticeable for its contrasting color and shape compared to the rest of the body. This is the last thing that is seen when you dive down a rabbit hole!
Thanks Suleika, Holly and Carmen - I'll look forward to seeing photos (pls make a little video if you can) of the book tour so we can revel in the launch with you from overseas ;-)
I LOVE Rabbit holes, AKA voracious curiosity - I discovered something called TAB COPY as a Chrome extension, and now I'm less panicked at 100 tabs being open...you can copy all the TAB links and save them somewhere...
I LOVE TAB COPY because now, when I research people (like you said Jon does), I add the tabs to a profile I create per person. I've a directory with lots of profiles and corresponding articles now!
It's a cool little function that saved my sanity because there are SO many 'leads' to investigate.
I wasn’t looking for a revelation at the farmers’ market. Just a slow wander, eyes skimming over peaches, eggplants, & fragrant basil. Then, I saw it—a tomato so dark it was nearly black, its skin taut, marked by a pale, star-like scar where the stem had been.
I stopped. Stared. Picked one up. I’ve known tomatoes my whole life—in kitchens where olive oil pooled in earthenware, where hands shaped dough on floured wood, where the scent of simmering pots carried stories older than the walls. But never this. Never a tomato so dark it seemed to hold the night within its skin.
The grower, a woman of Indian descent, smiled. “Black Cherry Tomatoes,” she said.
That was it. The rabbit hole opened.
It was a weight thing. The roundness of it. The way my fingers knew the feel of it before my brain caught up. And suddenly, I wasn’t in the market anymore. I was in my aunt’s house, leaning against the billiard table, watching her line up a shot. The lacquered balls, the deep polish, the way the light bent over their curves. The tomato sat in my palm, marked with the same quiet geometry—smooth, weighted, holding a history within its skin.
I bought a whole bag. Not because I needed them, but because I needed to understand them.
At home, I fell straight in. Black Cherry Tomatoes—heirlooms, passed down through generations, their darkness owed to anthocyanins, the same pigments that give blueberries their depth. The star at the top? A natural imprint, left by the calyx pressing into the skin as the fruit ripens.
That should have been enough. But now, I was thinking about billiard balls.
Early ones were carved from ivory, each tusk yielding only a few. Later, celluloid was introduced as a synthetic alternative—until they discovered that under just the right conditions, these balls could explode on impact. (Imagine lining up your perfect shot only for the table to stage a tiny mutiny.) The game itself? Pure physics. Angles, resistance, force—every shot a calculation, every motion dictated by an unseen formula.
And that’s when I saw it—the deeper connection. Not just shape. Not just markings. Movement.
A billiard ball, struck just so, follows a path determined by its surroundings. A tomato, though slower in its journey, is no different—shaped by wind in the vines, the weight of its own growth, the hand that plucks it & sends it rolling. Both are objects caught in stillness just before they shift again.
I imagined setting a Black Cherry Tomato on a billiard table, watching it sit for just a breath before it tipped & rolled, nudged by some invisible force. Like the billiard balls themselves, which, when knocked too hard, would drop from the table & disappear—into woven pockets, like macramé socks, stretched just enough to catch them; in other tables into openings where they’d roll down unseen channels, landing with a quiet finality. One moment in play, the next, gone. A different kind of rabbit hole, where things vanish, waiting to be retrieved.
I wanted to ask the grower more, but she was busy, hands moving swiftly from one customer to the next. The rhythm of trade pulled her forward, & I let the moment pass.
So, I left with my questions intact, my curiosity only half-fed.
But I’ll return next week, find her again. I know she had another name for them, but my mind was already headfirst down the hole, & all I can remember are the letters Y & U. Perhaps that was her name for them… perhaps I’m imagining something altogether. This time, I’ll wait for the pause, the moment between transactions when the weight of a question lingers just long enough to be answered. The other kind of rabbit hole—the in-person kind, unfolding in real time, through conversation, through the hands of those who grow the things we eat.
I so enjoyed this prompt, Suleika, & reading of Jon’s explorations, of how both your curiosities works. Starting with a tomato, & before you know it, you’re knee-deep in billiard ball manufacturing, exploding plastics, ancient cultivation, & the mathematics of motion. And maybe that’s the real beauty of it—not the answers, but the sheer thrill of not knowing where the next turn will take you.
Oh how I loved going down this rabbit hole of a comment. I’ve always been mesmerized by the strange beauty of heirloom tomatoes. This was a delight. 🖤
Oh indeed, Holly, I adore heirlooms. I’ve a patent leather bag—Sonia Rykiel collection from many a moon past. Every time I spy an heirloom, I whisper Rykiel, as if she herself could hear me, sending a nod upon the winds, answering yes, indeed—the inspiration for such.
Tomatoes are so much fun! The names alone - Mortgage Lifter, Mr. Stripey, Cherokee Purple, Green Zebra - bring me joy. And a tomato sandwich is my favorite meal. Your writing is transportive! I pinched a nerve in my neck last week - ack! - but reading about that magic tomato beckoning you at the market whisked me away on an adventure.
Oh, Sarah—Mortgage Lifter, Mr. Stripey, Cherokee Purple, Green Zebra—what a lineup! The sheer poetry of their names is almost enough to satisfy, & yet, there’s still the bite, the sweetness, the sun-ripened perfection of a tomato sandwich. I’m so sorry about your pinched nerve (ack! indeed!), but I’m delighted the Black Cherry & its quiet magic carried you off for a moment. Wishing you swift healing & many more tomato-filled adventures ahead.
Kim your writing is wondrous. As I read I’m with you holding that tomato and visualizing with you. You have a gift with words. Thank you
Oh, Laurie—thank you. What a joy to know you were there too, holding that tomato, seeing it as I did. That’s the magic of words, isn’t it? They let us stand in the same moment, even miles apart. Grateful to share this little journey with you. 🍅✨
Fascinating - i plan to grow some Black Krim Tomatoes in my garden this year. The magic of movement. Rabbit hole history. All connected. I loved this curiosity journey with you today, Kim. Thank you.
Oh, Pat—Black Krim! What a beauty to have growing in your garden. Deep, rich, a little unruly in the best way. May they thrive & surprise you, much like this curiosity journey we’ve wandered down together. So grateful you came along. 🍅✨
Beautiful art transports me deeply and far beyond my small self to place of wonder. Your post did just this for me today. Thank you for sharing your sweet rabbit hole!
Oh, Julia—what a beautiful thought, that art & words can carry us beyond ourselves, into wonder. I’m so glad this little rabbit hole swept you up for a moment. Thank you for wandering with me. ✨🐇🍅
THIS. <3 :::insert infinite, glorious, roaring claps::: thank you for allowing us to enter your rabbit hole so eloquently, so graciously, so poignantly. I believe this just may be my favourite comment ever read on the isolation journals thread. :::gasp!:::
Ariana—:::gasp!::: what a response! If ever there were a way to bottle up joy, it might just be in infinite, glorious, roaring claps. I’m honoured you tumbled down this rabbit hole with me & so grateful for your words—they feel like a standing ovation of the soul. ✨🐇🍅
Let the ovation proceed! <3
(And, thank you for sharing your gratitude- I appreciate your appreciation!)
You played pool with a tomato, what fun! Thanks for the ride down the hole. I call stripes next time.
Rachel—stripes are yours! Though I can’t say the tomato held its own at the table, it certainly had a presence. Perhaps next time, we’ll set the Black Cherry in motion & see if it has a trick shot in it. Thanks for coming along for the ride! 🍅🎱✨
Yes. Just...yes. This was lovely
Thank you for sharing Suleika! I am so excited for your book tour! I will be at the Brooklyn show!!
About seven months ago I lost my job and battle some health issues. I have had many interviews some not so great offers and a lot of pauses but still no results. During this time I need to find a new outlet so I joined this group. I tired a few different new hobbies but landed on painting and writing. These new creativity acts have led to start writing a memoir, for inspiration and guidance I have been reading a ton of memoirs trying to find out which direction I want to take for mine. Its been such a pleasure working on it has led me to a lot of self discovery and healing. And need to want to understand more about the process of creativity and psychology as well. It has made see what I can do, not what I thought I couldn’t.
“It has made me see what I can do, not what I thought I couldn’t.” ❤️❤️❤️
Hello All. I love Rabbit Holes. And worm holes!. I love this "I used to feel a sense of shame around that, thinking it was a weakness—that I was easily distracted. But as the years pass and all my past interests, from design to music to dogs to writing, reemerge and cohere in my adult life, as I braid them together, I feel the urge to change that story, to tell my inner critic to pipe down—I’m not some distractible procrastinator. I’m curious, and the best and most interesting things happen when I follow my curiosity." Thank you for such a beautiful way to look. I went through a journey with your announcement of excitement and sadness to acceptance. I live in Pittsburgh so I thought maybe Phil. However with much discussions with my husband it is not possible with my health and caregiver of my mom. However if you decided to record any show and sell those recordings I am first in line for tickets!!
Ooh how I hear you Suleika. The curious, insane comfort/maddening self-destruction of the rabbit WARREN. Burrow down, internet oneself stupid on themes we don’t even know exist whilst, in my case, knowing I might not live until I’m 60????
Bonkers!
At the same time, maybe quietly our creative selves are building their own holes and borrows and ta-da up will pop something wild!
Little gems of wonder are found down there in the soil.
I am so tempted to hop on a plane to the US to one of your events! 🤪🙏🏽💙🙌🏽💚
My spirit will be there!
All love and solidarity to the Isolation Jornal crew far and wide!
🚀
Thanks for this Newsletter, dear Suleika! I am so happy that I am not the only one who falls down the rabbit hole as a result of my fascination with the world and genuine curiosity.
When I am fascinated by a certain topic/persona, I often "save" these facts and information in a special drawer of my head that I jokingly call "random facts about random events and people that I might/or might not use sometime to impress people at dinners/or just randomly sprinkle it during conversations".
I often joke about it in my head - why the urge, why the hunger after more and more information (sometimes about very bizare things!). But the truth is, I can't help it. I see the world as contextual puzzle. Everything is connected and intertwined and the more I know, the more I am confused about the complexity of everything, but somehow, it is more clear, leads to more understanding (even empathy?). Not that the world makes more sense after that, but at some level it gives me weird peace in mind and feeds my hungry mind.
One of the last things I was hooked with is life and art of a Slovenian architekt Josip Plecnik. I was mainly fascinated by the contrast between his modest and deeply religious personal life and his phenomenaly brave buildings that were very courageous for the beginning of the 20th century. He was often mocked, not understood, but he believed in himself, his philosophy, his way that he never gave up.
And that's that. Random facts about random people on Sunday morning, there you go.
Wishing my fellow bookworms a blissful day! 🙌❤️
And to everyone who is able to attend Suleika's booktour - enjoy enjoy enjoy and share your pics & thoughts, can't wait!
I had buried my curiosity, for reasons, but today is about the Sublime Rabbit Hole! My recent deep dive is "Where is that on the Earth?" The most curious thing to me, is that it concerns the travelings of Jesus. I long ago gave up my Catholic upbringing and since watching "The Chosen" have begun to sesarch out the cultutral and historical events surrounding his recorded time on Earth. So many maps, and while down this Rabbit Hole, I am deeply entrenched in the borders created by people to (as it is everywhere on Earth now) clearly demarcate, "This is mine, this is yours." I still have 5,000,000 questions. Part of my searching has led me to the food of these areas. What strikes me, is how similar the various foods are, even though the people and their worship is different. It made me wonder, "Do the women of the different areas, feel the same as the men?" "What if the women were in charge?"
You know it’s a good rabbit hole when you emerge with even more questions than before.
Ahh, so true!
I'm neurodivergent and go down rabbit holes ALL THE TIME! I'm late diagnosed (im in my 40's and dx last year) and i definitely used to consider it a character flaw. Now I view it has an amazing trait of mine and it makes life so much more interesting.
Good Morning, one leads to another and another. I change the same furniture with relish, going up and down the stairs. Books lead to books, names to stories, streets to history. Now their are so many different rabbit holes. Several friends are birders, of which "My eyes are on the Sparrow"...others are massive menu keepers and makers.. I lost interest back when cooking was required. Rabbit Holes and the appreciation of such are needed.. more than ever..
During the pandemic, I opened my grandmother’s hope chest I had been gifted (finally) by my mother on her paring down her home. It contained an old black scrap book wth black and white photos of a family, friends, a whole life, meticulously documented, Yet, I only recognized my grandmother, a few others. I began my journey down the ancestry rabbit hole with the goal of finding each person in each photograph. All the smiling faces, and jaunty poses intrigued me. I burrowed down into the years, building a tree on the ancestry site and each face brought another fascinating story, children orphaned and rehomed, families cobbled together in one home, yet celebrating, dressing up and arms around each other, living the lives as hard as they were, together. By the end, I found the entire photo book, I knew all the intricacies of all the relationships and intertwining of families, the early sad deaths, the stints in the asylums, the jobs and divorces. I don’t know where to put all this information, my grown children have no pull to the past as I do but the satisfaction of knowing seems to sustain me enough. My grandmother lived wth me growing up, I knew her as a child knows a grandparent she died when I was twelve. I only wish I could converse wth her now, when people choose famous people they wish to meet from the past, its my grandmother I choose, holding that book and laughing at her reminisces.
Lovely!
The best kind of rabbit hole. I hope it gave you immense pleasure
I would love to go to one of your book tours, Suleika, but none are in my area, so looking forward to pictures from any who take them.
When it became apparent that our great grandchildren were not going to need a playroom at our house anymore, I decided to take everything out and make myself a room just for me. My husband has a hobby shop in back of the house. I soon found myself spending way too much time shopping online, shopping thrift stores, etc. I wanted a pink room, my favorite color. The walls were painted white but the room’s contents were going to be pink shades. Pink is a calming color for me. I was always told I look so pretty in pink. My most expensive item was a rocking recliner,totally electric. To get the right color it was special ordered. I was getting further down the rabbit hole, planning, searching and decorating my pink room. I even bought a pink dog bed for our little dog, who refuses to go into it. She prefers the area rug, which is not pink. A few people gave me things for my pink room and I accepted them and used them, even though they were not something I would have chosen, myself. I smile every time I walk by my new room, even if I can’t go into it for a while. It’s now my pink/quiet/serenity room.🩷
I feel like I am a rabbit. I think the more exploratory question for me may be what happens when you leave the rabbit hole?! I know I don’t like leaving it. I am most content when pursuing my curiosity. It’s comfy in there.
Rabbit holes are really good things! I've been down a labyrinth making Rabbit hole and I made a beautiful connection with an old French man on the beach.
https://open.substack.com/pub/breiwerken/p/labyrinth?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android&r=4hhfd
I never thought of all my different interests and curiosities as rabbit holes. So interesting to hear it called that. And especially not worm holes. It's not that I get distracted so easily, but that I have many interests and want to know everything about everything. OK. So I go off on tangents or into them. I like what you said about your totally organized sock drawer. Mine not so much. Maybe it's hard to buckle down and do the work and actually finish something because once it's done, it's over. And we have to move forward to something else. It's almost like losing a part of ourselves.
Much fun and success on your book tour. Wish I still lived in San Francisco so I could meet you.
Peace, Love and Good health to you and Jon.😘
A “scut” refers to the short, erect tail of certain animals, notably rabbits, hares, and deer. In these animals, the scut is often noticeable for its contrasting color and shape compared to the rest of the body. This is the last thing that is seen when you dive down a rabbit hole!
Thanks Suleika, Holly and Carmen - I'll look forward to seeing photos (pls make a little video if you can) of the book tour so we can revel in the launch with you from overseas ;-)
I LOVE Rabbit holes, AKA voracious curiosity - I discovered something called TAB COPY as a Chrome extension, and now I'm less panicked at 100 tabs being open...you can copy all the TAB links and save them somewhere...
I LOVE TAB COPY because now, when I research people (like you said Jon does), I add the tabs to a profile I create per person. I've a directory with lots of profiles and corresponding articles now!
It's a cool little function that saved my sanity because there are SO many 'leads' to investigate.
I LOVE my nerdy researching
Cool. I need to figure out how to do this with your tab copy!
Just google Tab copy - it'll pop up xo
Suleika & Jon, See you in San Francisco! -An 850 mile round trip from my home down a dirt road in the woods of Southern Oregon!
A lot of Jon’s tunes will be played in the car!
RABBIT HOLES
Curious Alice
Going down the rabbit hole
To lands of wonder & enchantment
We grow small; we grow tall
We keep growing !
💜Deborah Colette Murphy