Over Easter, we did some island-hopping in Greece and ended the tour in Santorini, which is one of the proposed sites for Atlantis. The topic came up in a tour when we visited a volcano and subsequently – on the request of the kids – we ended up at the Lost Atlantis Experience Museum, which presents the tale in no less than nine dimensions. That’s right, nine dimensions! I must admit, beyond time and space, I don’t think I could tell you the name of the other five dimensions.
Anyway, the story of Atlantis started with Plato, who described it as a powerful and advanced civilization that was destroyed in a catastrophic event and – potentially – sank beneath the waves into the sea. The big questions are: did it really exist (many believe the tale was created by Plato to illustrate his views on the dangers of expansionism, power, and greed) and – if it did – where was it? Other proposed theories are as varied as it disappeared into the Bermuda Triangle or that it’s hidden under the ice in Antarctica.
What drove our research into finding out more about Atlantis wasn’t our own fascination, but – as often is the case these days – our kids asking us questions about it. They loved the whole experience of visiting the museum (did I mention nine dimensions?), feeling the heat of an active volcano, and seeing the remains of the ancient city of Akrotiri – which was destroyed during the eruption and subsequent earthquakes. Like many children, ours are fascinated by mysteries of the unknown (ghosts, UFOs, Loch Ness, Big Foot, etc.) and to be honest I also love digging into this type of subject matter.
However, when asked about such topics, I’m torn between my rational mind and my fondness for the unknown. I tend to always answer with the stock response of, “Some people believe that…” followed by, “But when you look at the evidence…” or words to that effect. I certainly want to avoid pooh-poohing any topics that may be scary or out there that the children discover and get all excited about, but I don’t want them to be indoctrinated by superstition or overly irrational ways of thinking. I try and encourage them to enjoy such content in the same way as one would take pleasure in a horror film or a scary novel; sometimes it’s good to leave your brain at the door and have some fun. Given, it is a fine line to walk, but I do hope that a mixture of logic, openness to experience, and fascination with the strange and curious, is the best way to take pleasure in the whole damn crazy show.
Photo by Mikhail Preobrazhenskiy on Unsplash.
