Recently, I have truly got into reading historical mystery books, or at least that is what I call them. There action mystery based novels that centers, at least in part, on how some myth from history is actually accurate, at least in some respect. Think Indiana Jones and all those movies. Books ranging from Templar treasure to Alexander the Great to mysterious ancient civilizations. I eat that stuff up, chiefly because when I was growing up I wanted to be like Indiana Jones. For some kids, its a baseball player, becoming president or an astronaut; for me, it was a worldwide traveling archaeologist. As I studied History in college and continue to read history books from time to time, the kid that loved history still does, and got part of that satisfied as I grew up. But one of the primary reasons why I loved that stuff so much when I was kid, and enjoy reading these type of fiction thrillers now, is because of the places themselves.
These stories range from ancient relics in South American and Central Asia, to the various historical sites and buildings all over Europe. The over emphasized architecture of monasteries and palaces, the feel of the buildings from their natural stone, the diverse landscapes and cultures; all represent things that I wanted to see and experience as a child. When I was in college, I took two trips to Europe that gave me a slight experience of those childhood dreams. I spent varying amounts of time in Greece, Italy, France, and England, and I still remember vividly the distinct feel of each place; the sense of history that permeated the streets; the grandeur of seeing the Eiffel Tower at night and walking alone the Seine during the day; seeing the Parthenon and the Temple of Poseidon and being blown away at the history; being humbled by the magnitude of the Coliseum; feeling peace at seeing the Tuscan countryside. Those places just had a different taste, smell, and feel than anywhere I traveled to in the United States. Its something I always treasured having the opportunity to do, and something I always hope that I will be able to experience again someday.
I'm not exactly sure why I started writing this. I began thinking about childhood dreams of traveling the world and solving ancient mysteries. I have no desire now to solve ancient mysteries, but that childhood dream of seeing faraway lands persist. Perhaps I am curious as to how we mature, what childhood dreams do we hold onto, and what do we discard. I enjoy my work in law; I have stated many times that I enjoy the intellectual challenge and the potential for helping people, but it is never what I imagined myself doing when I was a kid. I still have the potential to travel like my dreams of childhood, although becoming an archaeologist is somewhat out of the question, chiefly because I no longer truly wish to do that type of work. What changed, I don't know.
Where do our childhood dreams go when we grow up? Do they change completely? Do they vanish as the weight of responsibility and real world concerns overcome us? Do they simply get pushed aside and forgotten about in our pursuit of career and family? How many actually follow through and pursue those dreams? And what is the affect on their happiness of their pursuit, and the affect on us that they did something different?
Just random questions in my mind tonight as I close my eyes and think of new dreams.
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