In chapters 9 and 10 Milo gets to learn a lot about understanding and appreciating the Gift of Sight as he is guided by a new friend, Alec Bings, who was "born in the air, with his head at exactly the height it's going to be when he's an adult" (104), so he walks on the air, maintaining the same point of view his entire life, growing down until his feet touch the ground when he reaches adulthood. Though, he points out, "there are a few of us whose feet never reach the ground no matter how old we get, but I suppose its the same in every family" (104). Some of us never do get grounded in any way, do we?
Milo and Alec banter along and Milo considers all the different ways in which to view something, and he eventually, when he tries to think of things like an adult, slowly rises up in the air like Alec Bings, looks around for a minute, then crashes to the ground...
"Interesting, wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was," agreed Milo, rubbing his head and dusting himself off, "but I think I'll continue to see things as a child. It's not so far to fall."
"A wise decision, at least for the time being," said Alec. "Everyone should have his own point of view."
I love that Milo chooses to see things as a child, essentially choosing innocence, accepting that he has a lot to learn and that it will be best to continue on learning those things gradually and when he's grown enough to fully understand them from his new point of view. This goes along with childhood development and what we know about the phases of learning. Too often we try and make young children do adult things, like sit for LONG periods of time studying and working at academics that will come so naturally when they're more mature, while we pander our "teenagers," who should be young adults, by feeding their entitlement disease with extra free time, technology, and brain candy entertainment when they're finally developmentally ready for serious study, responsibility, and independent work. Milo chooses to grow as a child ought to, but as we see in this story, that doesn't mean he chooses not to think or learn. (No, he learns about not thinking early on when he gets stuck in the doldrums.) He just learns at a developmentally correct pace, which leads me to his next lesson, probably my favorite...
In chapter 10, Milo, Tock, and the Humbug are following Alec on a haphazard, fast-paced journey through the trees, and they start to worry that they're lost.
"Do you know where we are?" asked Milo.
"Certainly," [Alec] replied, "we're right here on this very spot. Besides, being lost is never a matter of not knowing where you are; it's a matter of not knowing where you aren't--and I don't care at all where I'm not" (110).
Okay, so this is very circular logic, and funny to think about, and almost doesn't make sense, but I love Alec's resolve to be happy knowing he is right where he's at in his current journey. He's not lamenting about not being somewhere else, he's living in the present, and that's a gift!
He says, "If you don't believe me, ask the giant" (110), and then we get another perspective about "being lost" that is just brilliant. Milo knocks on the first door and is greeted by a normal looking man who says he's the smallest giant in the world, and he asks his question only to be referred to the midget, who turns out to be the same man introducing himself as the tallest midget in the world... and later the fattest thin man, and then skinniest fat man in the world. We receive a lesson, yet again on perspective: There are many ways we can choose to see ourselves and those around us.
Yet, it's when the man finally answer's Milo's question, "Are we lost?" that it gets profound in an Alice in Wonderland meeting the Cheshire Cat sort of way:
"I know one thing for certain; it's much harder to tell whether you are lost than whether you were lost, for, on many occasions, where you're going is exactly where you are" (114).
PAUSE... I like this. It's easy to see where you've been, but we are where we are. I don't think he means to say that we shouldn't better ourselves and want to progress from our current state; having a destination in mind is very important. I think he's suggesting a more positive outlook than we usually allow ourselves. To me, it means I should find joy in journey; not all who wander are lost. As a perfectionistic, wanna-be super mom, it is easy for me to look at all my flaws and think "I'm lost... my destination will never be reached...this bites..." and only see where and what I'm not instead of the beauty of where I am right now. Some "now" situations aren't pretty or glamorous, but still, there's a lot to be missed in life, a lot of potential joy being flushed down the drain if you can't appreciate the different facets of "now". He continues:
"On the other hand, you often find that where you've been is not at all where you should have gone, and since its much more difficult to find your way back from someplace you've never left, I suggest you go there immediately and then decide" (114).
In Justor's round-about-funny-language way, he's telling us that although it is easier to see when we were lost it is important not to dwell on the past, but to keep moving forward. This is genius... If you read it too quickly, you may believe he's telling you to live with the "Horrible Hopping Hindsight" demon (238) we meet in the mountains of ignorance. But he's NOT! He's saying don't dwell there because it's hard to find your way back from something you've never left. Progression involves moving on, going forward. You have to move from the past, be in the now, to have a bright future. While hindsight is important, for we must learn from where we have been, seeing the present and having foresight are key to "not being lost."
I love these lessons of sight. These are just a few lessons I gleaned from a few pages of Norton Justor's, "The Phantom Tollbooth," a children's classic, edged on by my MIC classmates' discussion. If you've read it, what are some of the lessons you've gleaned from its pages? I invite you to read and think and discuss, to "come face to face with greatness" by reading the classics with your family. Turn off the TV, put away your mobile tech, and think and share together. It's worth it, I promise.
