We chose to live without television; therefore, I watch Netflix movies or a few television episodes on the computer. Last night, I was in the mood for distraction and something a bit on the instructive side. I watched Cities of the Underworld, on Hulu.

The episode that caught my attention pertained to the undergrounds of Dublin. Since I love Celtic lore, it was an easy choice. The host reminded me a bit of Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter, with the same dramatic energy and boyish bewilderment. In the course of about fifty minutes, four or five specialists or scientists were introduced, at different stages of the exploration. The fast-paced atmosphere was rather captivating.

I am not an archeologist or historian, but as a lover of the Celtic people, I have read quite a bit of their history. Some historians and scientists are careful to examine all aspects of their findings before pronouncing with great assurance the reasons for certain types of architecture or artifacts. For a television show, one that seeks to captivate a wide audience and convey the excitement of first hand discovery and exploration, the soundness of theories may not be an immediate concern.

The show examined a fantastic mound located a few miles outside of Dublin. Underneath this structure, which is believed to be man made, a complex network of tunnels and alcoves was carefully fashioned out of monolithic-like stones. As he was climbing down the tunnel and making his way through narrow passageways, the host explained that at the time the mound and tunnels were built, several hundred years before Christ, the entire countryside was under the rule and oppression of the Vikings, who used Dublin for their main entryway, business and slave trade port.

Based on this, said the host, the structure had likely been a refuge, keeping the villagers, who had no doubt built it, safe from Viking invasions. He further explained that it would have required months of effort and all capable hands in the community to accomplish this feat of engineering and architecture, which to this day remains in far greater shape than Stonehenge or the Pyramids, both of which it predates by hundred of years.

Though I love this sort of fantastic historical musing, and know that at least part of it may be accurate, a few questions came to mind. In a land that is consistently occupied by a warrior, pillaging, slave trading culture such as the Vikings, how does a community even begin to build a gigantic mound, and move stones the size of small cars to create tunnels, without being noticed by the very people they seek to elude? These structures were not built overnight, nor were they built without much commotion and the gathering of much equipment, materials and men.

So how does one build such a structure under the watchful eye of the enemy? Why, with the enemy, of course, and for the enemy. Which leads to another question: Were all Vikings enemies? Could they have formed alliances with some communities and enlisted the help of farmers, merchants, artisans as direct contributors to trade and the creation of shelters or underground storage facilities? At the very least, they could have commissioned the work or required it from enslaved workers.

Seen in this light, the magnificence of the structure looses a bit of appeal, but the urgency for building it may be put in a new perspective. Would even what we consider to be a primitive culture attempt so much commotion if the goal were immediate avoidance of an enemy they feared? It seems our survival instinct is designed to seek more immediate and stealth solutions. What of the wrath of the enemy, should he uncover the structure in the midst of construction? Finally, would a program about possible collaboration between peoples we have come to identify as enemies captivate today’s audience?

We hold on to our myths. The entire film industry is built on the retelling of ancient myths. Every movie is merely a variation on the hero theme, the savior theme and the oppressor versus the oppressed theme. Perhaps even historians and archeologists approach every situation with a hint of bias due to deeply engrained myths, in much the same way as we automatically reach for the light switch about three and a half feet up upon entering a room, without thinking. It would not occur to us to reach for it anywhere else.

Likewise, for centuries, it did not occur to us to discard the myth of a flat earth, until someone actually demonstrated that it was round. So could it be that we cannot see past the myths unless we experience another point of view? As advanced as our understanding of history and research tools have become, not one of us currently seeking the truth was present in the moment it unfolded; or we do not remember clearly.

Alternatively, with today’s technology, and for centuries already, it has been possible to build underground or otherwise concealed facilities in perfect secrecy. Since history tends to repeat itself, and since humans tend to think in the same ways, fear in the same ways and want to survive with the same passion, perhaps the most desperate, life-loving, industrious people could have contrived to erect a mountain without raising the least suspicion that something was brewing on the horizon.

Slainte!

I added images of compasses, sextants and harps to my web space today. Then, I spent delightful moments staring at them. If I were to describe human genius and its ability to give shape and form to the universe, I would say, "Look at compasses, sextants and musical instruments". They share many fascinating traits, all very closely related to the vastness of the universe itself, all representative of the process that leads from an apparent "nothing" to the germination of an idea, followed by the materialization of an object, rippling back into the universe through its very use.

The compass, sextant and musical instruments were born from an instinctive awareness. The observer grasped the concept without a single piece of complex technology in hand. From that one moment of "knowing", his mind began to ask questions, each question leading to an answer, an idea, and a new, expanded concept. Creative minds cannot help but create. Creative minds cannot help but fashion the objects they imagine; take pieces of familiar materials and assemble them in such a way that the idea becomes an object one can hold. This object is the proof, the giant "Ha Ha!" The creative mind wants to cradle its creation.

Compasses, sextants and musical instruments create an invisible ripple effect. The harp string sends out a vibration we call sound, or music. It exists to make music. The compass and sextant also ripple out into the universe whenever they enable the observer to expand his awareness beyond the horizon. In fact, they are designed to direct the awareness with high precision, just as the harp is tuned to give a precise sound.

What these instruments accomplish is very complex. They are the culmination of centuries of history, living, questioning, and asking how to make invisible concepts visible and tangible. The result is a series of objects so intricate, so detailed, so complex in design and function that they are imbued with a beauty only nature can match in its intricate design of flowers and creatures. I do not drink, yet when I consider this, when I spend time admiring our ability to create such masterpieces, I feel intoxicated. I see the passion of a creative mind in each of these objects. One cannot create such beauty without loving each moment of the process. Then, I ask why so many of the objects we create today, even much of the architecture of our dwellings, appear so devoid of passion, so square, so not fully vibrant? Do we know too much? Do we understand so much that some of the wonder of creating is gone?

Maybe this is why compasses, sextants, musical instruments and similar objects and tools are so beautiful. They were born of wonder, pure wonder, pure amazement. That initial point of wonderment cannot be repeated or, rather, it can never be felt quite in the same manner or quite with the same passion again. Therefore, we collect compasses and sextants, and make music, because somewhere deep down in our bones we remember, and we do not want to forget.

Slainte!