Lost Cities

Lost cities-- indeed, all ancient ruined cities-- are fascinating, sobering, beautiful, mysterious and strange.  They easily lend themselves to curiosity, imagination, and pensiveness.  A certain thrilling disquietude can be found in feeling the breathless stillness and hearing the echoing silence of a place that once bustled with life, and the mind almost trembles with the sense that somewhere, just below the mundane, glimmers vestiges of those who once walked the forgotten streets.  Such places seem dreamlike, as if they reside on the borders of our existence and the Otherworld.

I have never been to a true Lost City myself, but I have had the chance to see a couple of ruins.  Some peoplemseem to feel that my fasenation with them is rather morbid, but I can't bring myself to agree.  For me, they are places to think and learn about the past.  Exploration of ruins awakens child-like natural inquisitiveness, which in turn prods the mind with itching questions.  Who lived here?  What became of them?  Were the really so different from us?  Will someone one day stand in our own hometowns and ponder these same enigmas?

In a way, lost cities answer some of the same riddles they pose.  It's invigorating to watch a historical documentary and witness archeologists and anthropologists assembling clues with the skill and fervor of the most dedicated sleuths.  Piece by piece the puzzle is constructed until a clear-- though often incomplete-- image of an ancient people emerges.  With breathless wonder researches realize the ancient Minoan citys like Knossos had running hot and cold water, flushing toilets, and earthquake-resistant walls. (For more information, see http://santorinitravelguide.com/?p=p_67&sName=santorini-historical-guide)  They note with similar awe that the Greeks built the first "analog computer," (http://www.antikytheramechanism.org/) and that the ancient Romans invented many of our modern surgical tools. (http://www.hsl.virginia.edu/historical/artifacts/roman_surgical/)  They marvel that the lost Indian city of Dwarka-- said to be the home of the god Krishna, and long believed to be a myth-- actually exists.  (http://www.epicindia.com/magazine/Culture/the-lost-city-of-dwarka)  With equal wonder they uncover a previously unknown ancient city in China's Taklamakan desert whose mummified  residents are not Mongolian or Cantonese, but Celtic. (http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/asia/a-meeting-of-civilisations-the-mystery-of-chinas-celtic-mummies-413638.html)

The uncertainty we feel concerning the one-time glory of lost cities opens the doors to endless possibilities and gives our imaginations whole new landscapes to gallop in.  The inhabitants might have been anyone.  There could be unfathomable wonders to discover.  As a fan of Tolkien's great works, I look at Knossos and see a real life version of Gondor.  As a devout studier of mythology, I look at Dwarka and see a god's lost domain, and I look at the Taklamakan "Beauty of Loulan" and see a descendant of Scathach.

Despite the undisturbed and soundless tranquility of lost cities and ruined cities, they are a place where the mind comes alive.  They are places to make dfiscoveries, let our imaginations soar free, and remind ourselves that these ancients were intellegent and inventive-- no different from us.  Lost cities remind us that by looking at our oast we may also be looking at our future.  They remind us that all we build, no matter how great, will one day crumble and rust.  They bid us to live while we can, and to never forget that nothing in this life is truly eternal.