The Dodo’s Race: Endless Loops to Nowhere — An Ericksonian Induction (Wonderland Series)

Close your eyes, if you’d like, or simply let your focus soften, and imagine yourself in the comfort of your own space. It could be your favorite chair, the hum of your home around you, the quiet rhythm of your breath. And as you settle there, you might begin to sense a story forming, one that feels oddly familiar.

You see, there was a man — someone not so different from you — who lived his life much like anyone else might. He woke at the same time every day, rode the same elevator, walked the same streets, worked the same job. And each day, though it seemed full of purpose, felt as though it slipped away like sand through his fingers. One day, he found himself watching an old film, one he’d seen as a child but had long forgotten: Alice in Wonderland.

The screen flickered softly, and he saw Alice standing in a circle of strange animals. A dodo bird — pompous and strange — was giving orders. They were all running, running in circles, their feet pounding the ground, kicking up dust. Alice joined in, running with them, though no one knew why.

And as you imagine this scene, perhaps you can feel it — the endless motion, the frantic energy, the strange rules that no one questioned. Everyone ran, and yet, nothing changed. The race didn’t end, and no one truly won. And maybe, as you picture that race, you can sense what the man began to sense.

He sat there, staring at the screen, and a thought crept in, soft as a whisper: I’m running that race too.

Every morning, up the elevator. Every day, at the desk. Every evening, down the elevator, home to repeat it all again. It felt so familiar, didn’t it? That rhythm of motion, the hum of a life moving forward — or was it moving in circles?

And as you listen to this, you might begin to wonder about your own race. The steps you take every day. The motions you go through. The patterns that feel so normal, so automatic, that you hardly notice them anymore. Perhaps you can even feel them now, those familiar tracks under your feet, like grooves worn into the ground.

On the screen, the dodo flapped its wings, calling out, “Faster, faster! Keep running! The race isn’t over until… well, until it’s over!”

The man laughed at the absurdity of it. But somewhere deep inside, he felt the weight of those words. Wasn’t that what he had always been told? Keep going. Work harder. Stay the course. You’re almost there. But where was “there”? What was he running toward?

And now, as you think about this race, perhaps you notice a part of yourself asking the same questions. What are you running for? Is it a finish line? A prize? Or is it simply the habit of moving, because moving feels easier than stopping?

Alice stopped running, eventually. She looked around at the animals, still frantic, still chasing… what? And the man watching her began to wonder: What happens if I stop?

And now, as you sit here listening, you might wonder the same. Imagine yourself stepping off that track, just for a moment. You don’t have to stop everything, not all at once — just pause, just enough to notice. What do you see when you’re not running? What do you feel when the race fades into the background?

It’s not about abandoning the race entirely. The world still turns, doesn’t it? But maybe, just maybe, you can step back, step off, and choose where to run — and when to rest.

The man watching the film didn’t turn the TV off right away. He sat there, letting the images linger, letting the thoughts settle. He still had a job to do, a life to live, but something felt different now. He didn’t have to run just because the others were. He could step off that circular track, look around, and find a path that mattered to him.

And as you imagine him doing that, perhaps you can feel a quiet strength building in yourself. The permission to pause. The freedom to choose. The understanding that life’s race doesn’t have to be about running in circles. It can be about finding your own way.

And when you’re ready, you might open your eyes — or simply carry this thought with you, as you step forward into the next moment of your life. Not because you’re running a race, but because you’re choosing where to go.