Places

Here's a very interesting post from Professor Bruce Charlton, "Meaningful Places Are Objectively Real to Me-- But Why?".

As I said in a comment, I wish he had elaborated more on why they're meaningful.

It's got me thinking about place. Well, I was thinking about it already, but it got me thinking about it more.

This post is just going to be about my own experiences and thoughts of place so it may not be of interest to anybody at all.

Here are some of my thoughts and experiences on place, in a numbered list:

1) I have a catastrophically bad sense of direction and geography. When I tell people this they generally think I'm exaggerating. It's worse than you would imagine. I don't even know Dublin well and I've lived here all my life. I don't even know Dublin city centre well. I can get from one place to another, of course, once I've done it a few times, but I can't mentally map the route (or describe it, without actually memorizing the description). It's like the password that you can tap in without thinking, but you can't remember when you have to think about it.

As for geography, I can now place all the counties on a map of Ireland (most of the time), and I'm pretty good at identifying the states of America and countries of Europe. But that's from taking internet quizzes repeatedly, over a period of years. And I still need to refresh that knowledge regularly or I'll forget.

2) I had absolutely no interest in geography or places as a kid, and even into my twenties. I developed an ego-protecting contempt for geography. I considered travel bores to be the worst of all bores (and I'm still inclined to think this). I didn't leave Ireland until I was twenty-seven. And this attitude still remains with me, pre-reflectively. For instance, I have a terrible habit of filtering geographical information out of whatever I'm reading, or whatever somebody is saying to me.

3) In spite of all this, over the years (decades) the idea of place has become fascinating to me. Especially this thought: that this place (wherever I am) is a unique place, different from any other. Even if it's totally unremarkable. Somehow, the thought of the uniqeness of a totally unremarkable place (like an industrial park or a dormitory suburb) is very exciting to me. The word "here" is exciting to me.

4) The indeterminacy of the term "place" excites me, too. What is a place? China is a place. Luton is a place. The Home Counties are a place. The Giant's Causeway is a place. The Rolling Donut on Dublin's O'Connell Street is a place.

I don't know why this excites me so much. I like everything that defies definition, that makes the world seem shimmering and eternally elusive.

I especially likes the way different ways of mapping the world cut across each other, for instance, old forms of demarcation like baronies and townlands which still have a sort of lingering existence.

5) Places are never really distinctive enough for my craving. I honestly wish every street and village had its own flag. When I went to Hull, I was seriously upset that there were more Yeats books than Larkin books in the local Waterstones.

6) Contrariwise, my innate loyalty to the ordinary (God knows where I got it from) has given me a sort of disdain for the picturesque. Disdain is too strong a word-- I'm happy the picturesque exists. I'm very happy it's there-- but it's not for me. It seems like cheating, too easy, even a kind of escapism. I need to find meaning and sustenance in the ordinary.

Of course, it's hard to really draw a clear distinction between the ordinary and the picturesque. Is Punxsatawney, the sleepy little town in Groundhog Day, picturesque? Or is it ordinary? I suppose it's both, but it's the sort of picturesque that doesn't seem like giving up on the ordinary. It's small town picturesque. There are lots of small towns.

7) As for particular places, that's such a big subject it would require a new post. I tried to write about Dublin a while back and I found it quite a strain, albeit an enjoyable one.