Why It's Important to Visit Ruins of Other Cultures

Source: Paul Ross, with permission

I was visiting the little-known and ancient Iberian site of Ullastret in northeastern Spain, and I wondered how the long, high, defensive exterior stone walls of the city had managed to stand for more than 2,000 years. Something possessed me to stick my finger in a small hole in the earthen mortar between two stone blocks and I was surprised by what happened. I suddenly realized that more than two millennia ago, someone who had a life, a family, who lived, loved, ate, celebrated, mourned, and did construction had placed the mortar there. It was a moment of connection to something outside of my own world, to the distant past, and connection is so important in life. I never thought it would happen through a stone wall.

At the Forum in Rome, I stood under the arch of Titus, and when I looked up, I saw the carved relief of the booty brought back to The Eternal City after the sacking of the ancient Temple in Jerusalem almost 2,000 years ago. I stared at the image of the large candelabrum (called a Menorah) that once stood in the Temple, and at the enslaved Jewish men who carried the treasures for their captors. For the first time, the story of the destruction of the Temple became real and tangible to me. I thought about those slaves and what happened to them once they arrived in Rome. Where did they live? What work did they do? Whom did they marry and where are their descendants today? That feeling of connection made me research to find out more.

At the Aztec Monument ruins where ancient Puebloan people once dwelled in northwestern New Mexico, a contemporary Pueblo woman told me, “We don’t think of these as ruins. For us, the spirits of the ancestors are still there.” As I visited, marveled at, and learned about the life of the Native Americans who were once there, I thought constantly about what the woman had said to me. Pueblo people in the Southwest still go to ancestral sites for ceremonies and rituals. When I went to the village in Ukraine where my grandmother was born, I felt the power of walking on the earth where she had once walked, and seeing around me what she once saw. I was filled with feelings of gratitude. If it weren’t for our ancestors, we wouldn’t be alive, and visiting ancestral sites reminds us of how much we owe them.

In Tunisia, I was visiting a cemetery that was part of ancient Carthage, and had the growing awareness that what I was seeing was more than just stones: they were testimonies to individuals who had once lived, loved, laughed, and been very much alive. They were long gone, but thousands of years later they still told a story to tourists and visitors. I wondered what tourists would learn from what we’ve left behind hundreds or thousands of years from now.

At Angkor Wat in Cambodia, I became enamored of the graceful, vibrant Apsara dancers depicted on the temple walls. It seemed like they were still dancing because their movements were so clear, precise, and visually arresting. Instead of just admiring magnificent ruins, I connected to one aspect of them, and it made me curious about the dances and the dancers and I learned that elements of those movements are still used in cultural dances today.

Andrea, a therapist who traveled with a group I led to little-known parts of Italy, was so inspired by a visit to the ruins of a Roman coliseum, that she wrote a moving and memorable poem about a gladiatorial battle … from the point of view of the lion. She didn’t reveal whose point of view it was until the last verse. The ruins had sparked wonderful creativity in her.

I had always wondered about the “high places” mentioned in the Hebrew bible, but could never picture where or what they were. At the magnificent ruins of Petra in Jordan, I saw a small sign that said “high place.” I followed it and it led up a mountain where the path was dotted by several small, ancient altars. When I stood at the top, and saw the large altar, I understood that high places were where people felt closest to the Divine that they believed protected and guided them.

In Mexico, a young boy was visiting ruins. I watched as he read every sign — something I do too. He said, “When I learn about how people lived it makes me think about how we live, and maybe some things they knew that we don’t.” I so appreciate the study and knowledge that goes into signage and it helps me imagine and visualize what life was like and the ancients’ knowledge of science, art, spirituality, community, religion, climate, the environment, and personal development of the human being. Their technology was different from ours, but they were masters of it. The Maya were brilliant astronomers. We still don’t know exactly how ancient Egyptians built the pyramids. Scientists, architects, artists, ecologists, climatologists, and others are still inspired and fascinated by what they learn from ancient cultures and what they left behind.

So perhaps the next time you visit a ruin, you can find your own way to understand the culture it came from, what their life was like, and how it relates to your own. You can walk where they once walked, travel back in time through your imagination and what you learn, and feel a sense of connection across time and space. It’s a wonderful way to expand your personal universe and consider new possibilities.