Lost Worlds

Visions of vanished worlds have been on my mind for a couple of months now. While visiting Jasper Junction with my wife, I came across a secondhand copy of the book The Atlas of Legendary Places. (This was just one extraordinary find. Besides that, there were two action figures from the Inhumanoids toyline and two boxes of Tetley tea. Who takes Tetley tea to a secondhand store? Who buys Tetley tea from a secondhand store? The answer to the last question at least is clear: we do!)

Anyways, the book find was serendipitous as I have been considering writing something about vanished worlds, but not necessarily real worlds that have disappeared. Instead, I am fascinated by tales of lost worlds that never were, realms like Atlantis, Eden, and Camelot. Sure enough, the book had entries on each of these places. One common link between each of these locations (and some others I'm leaving out due to space constraints) is how they are evoked, either metaphorically or seriously, to make sense of experiences of tragedy and loss. There is already a great book on the subject (i.e. the "politics of nostalgia"), so in this post I mainly want to touch on how each of these three fictional lands has been used to construct visions of the "good old days." At the end, if you hang in there, I have included a special announcement.

Atlantis

According to the myth, Atlantis was once the most advanced and cultured civilization on earth, but it grew decadent, warlike, and complacent, leading to a cataclysmic punishment: earthquakes and tidal waves destroyed the entire island, entombing it beneath the waves forever. This story originates most likely with the Greek philosopher Plato, who used Atlantis as a metaphor for how societies can go wrong. Generations of later thinkers and explorers wondered if he was referring to an actual place possessed of untold riches. Hence began the speculation as the "real" location of the lost world.  For some, like Helena Blavatsky (a Russian Spiritualist/Medium/Psychic/Purveyor-of-all-things-weird), Atlantis was a real place that represented humanity's lost greatness. Blavatsky believed she was in psychic communication with departed residents of Atlantis and hoped to use their wisdom (among others, like the "Ascended Tibetan Masters" and representatives of Martian civilization) to point humanity out of its 19th century military-industrialist doldrums.

Eden

The Garden of Eden story is actually the second of two different creation stories in the Hebrew Bible's Genesis. (This alone should convince people that Biblical literalism is untenable, but, what are you going to do?) Believe it or not, like Atlantis, people have been looking for an actual location for this fictional spot for some time. (Check out this list - especially the first one.) While the Biblical story certainly has roots in Mesopotamian folklore, there are scholars who believe its pastoral setting is due to its context: it may well have been written during a period of increased urbanization, when nostalgia for green, idyllic places was high. In his attempt to create a Christian epic on par with the Iliad and Odyssey, John Milton used the Eden story in Paradise Lost to question the British monarchy and suggest it had gone astray from earlier, better foundations.

Camelot

Arguably, one of the more prominent "lost worlds" referred to in American culture is Arthurian Camelot, the paragon of just rule and chivalry. Like Atlantis and Eden, Camelot came to an end through inner corruption, but the wonder of what it was for a brief, shining moment echoed on. This initially Welsh myth, which again has been a persistent focus of investigation, came to be equated with the Kennedy presidency, partly because of a prominent Broadway musical on the subject that ran during the period, but also due to the shock of Kennedy's tragic assassination, the abruptness of which resembled the end of Camelot -- or Atlantis and Eden, for that matter.

Myths of long lost lands of placid peace obviously fill a human need for security, for dealing with painful transitions and passages in our own day-to-day lives. They are a way to articulate, through narrative, the odd feeling that "good times" only exist in the past. For instance, take this oft-shared meme from the show The Office:

There is something haunting about this realization, which I am sure many of us have felt. Times change, circumstances shift, and comfort zones we have built up either retract or disappear. At those moments, what came before can feel like a paradise compared to the anxiety of not knowing what's coming. In those times, we relate to the residents of Atlantis, Eden, and Camelot - they too, we feel, lost something precious and golden to the fog of uncertainty.

However, these feelings can obscure something else that's equally true: almost nothing in life is completely perfect. There's a line in an old Billy Joel song: "The good old days weren't always good / and tomorrow ain't as bad as it seems." (Check out the song, if you're curious.)

Or, for a more contemporary iteration of the same sentiment, there's Macklemore and Kesha, "Good Old Days."

Some of the best lines come at the end:

"Never thought we'd get old, maybe we're still young
May we always look back and think it was better than it was
Maybe these are the moments
Maybe I've been missing what it's about
Been scared of the future, thinking about the past
While missing out on now."

Pining over lost Atlantises, or Edens, or Camelots is wasted energy. Even in the stories, there were things drastically wrong in each of those settings that contributed to their demise. For each of these paradises, the "good old days" were not entirely good, and the same is true for all of us, except in times of strain and stress, there is a real temptation to feel that way. In that case, I've resolved to remember, at least for myself, that the good old days were good, but we need to make tomorrow better.

And Now for the Big Announcement:
A couple of weeks ago I received word that my book manuscript (Malleable Mara: the Transformations of a Buddhist Symbol of Evil) has been accepted for publication by the State University of New York Press! This is a great press for studies of Buddhist and Hindu traditions. In one form or another -- through an MA thesis, a PhD dissertation, and then an actual book -- I have been working on this manuscript since about 2002, so this is the culmination of a lot of toil, self-doubt, and perseverance. For those curious, the book is about how the mythical figure "Mara" in Buddhism has been portrayed differently according to changing times, religious rivalries, cultural contexts, and even popular culture. Here is an artistic representation of Mara attempting to stop Siddhartha from becoming the Buddha:

(Mara's the green guy on the elephant.)

More to come as the book gets closer to release, but for now, I could not wait to share the news! Until the next post, take care.