Here be dragons

From Wikipedia: "Here be dragons" is a phrase used to denote dangerous or unexplored territories, in imitation of the infrequent medieval practice of putting sea serpents and other mythological creatures in blank areas of maps . . .

At the "Land/Stories Conference" a couple of weeks ago, I led a workshop called "Here Be Dragons," where we talked about the challenges and (sometimes) terrors of place, and another called "Personal Mapping," which asked people to become more aware of the physical aspects of the place they live. For example, we drew a schematic map of our neighborhood: that part of our city, town, or rural area in which we spend most of our time. And then we talked about the map, and about places we enjoyed living (and why) and about places we'd never want to live (and why).

The responses were interesting. One gal said she'd never want to live in Alaska: too remote, too cold, too dark too much of the time. A lot of people agreed. I said I'd never want to live in New York: too many people, too much congestion. Another person said she'd never want to live in Florida because of the hurricanes--but it turns out that she lives in Galveston! Which led me to ask whether she was concerned about a hurricane hitting Galveston (wouldn't be the first time--the Galveston hurricane of 1900 is still the worst natural disaster in U.S. history). She said she didn't want to think about it--and when I asked if she'd chosen her hurricane evacuation route, she didn't like the question.

I certainly can't blame her. I don't like to think about the big "downside" issues about the place where I live--and there are some, most of which I can't do anything about. But as J.R.R. Tolkein once said, "It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him."

And it seems to me that we need to require ourselves to be aware of these challenges. (I use the word "require" because facing dragons is not something we do happily or with enthusiasm.) The Gulf Coast has its hurricanes. LA and San Francisco and Seattle are prone to earthquakes. Here in the Texas Hill Country, it's flash floods and tornadoes (yes, we have an underground shelter, which I chose over the new kitchen cabinets I wanted). When I lived in New Orleans in the late 70s, lots of people worried about the levees being overtopped or broken through--and that was 35 years before Katrina. And not all the dangers of place are related to natural events. Who remembers Love Canal? What about Three Mile Island? The Youngstown Flood?

I'm not preaching fear here (we have enough of that already, for heaven's sake). But I am suggesting that while we're thinking about place, and trying to understand the significance of place and the way places affect our lives, it's not enough to think and write only about the good, the grand, the awe-inspiring, the soul-stirring. We need to spend a little time thinking about dragons.

Because here be dragons. Here, in our front yards, in our home places. Not over there, somewhere out of sight, off the map.

And it does not do to leave them out of our calculations.

Susan Wittig Albert
www.susanalbert.typepad.com/lifescapes

Comments

[Connie Spittler]

Susan,
Writing from the Sonoran desert's 106 degree afternoon, I have to agree, the dragons are out spitting fire today.

[Paula S. Yost]

Once again, Susan, you take us to unique places and prod us to dig deeper, observe more realistically. Thank you! Just wondering how you found that picture of my front yard after the rains last week? :)

[Laura Girardeau]

I love your urging to write about the uncomfortable, to not idealize and sanitize our ideas of the land, but to be real about our fears. I happen to love the fact that nature is not all pretty, that we're not always at the top of the food chain, so to speak! There's still something out there bigger than us, and to me, that's comforting!

[Lee]

Susan
as you well know, I met my dragons two years in a row in Naples, Fl with hurricanes. Last year I kissed the dragon goodbye and headed to a place where I felt the dragons would not be so inclined to settle. So far so good but I am not short-sighted enough to think that none are here in the lovely mountains of northeast TN.
Thanks for encouraging us to look at all aspects of place - not just the obvious and comfortable.

[Susan J Tweit]

The air here is hazy with forest fire smoke, not from fires in my valley, but close enough to tint the light that odd shade of orange even at mid-day, and to remind me that the forests I see on the mountainsides across the valley are dependent on frequent fire too. Dragons are a part of every place, and you're right, Susan, we ignore them at our peril!

[Katherine Misegades]

Just yesterday, I looked at the map I drew in your workshop class. The only clearly defined thing on it was a bird's-eye view on my home. I looked at it and thought that the non-dragon part of my world is very small, then one of my clients pointed out that it isn't small at all when one considers how deep it goes. This is my thinking place where there be books and yarn and the freedom to grow and create.