The Dragon Paradox
Summary
TLDRThe video script narrates a personal journey of obsession with dragons, sparked by a TV show and fueled by a fascination with the cultural ubiquity of dragon myths. It explores the quest for understanding these creatures through books, media, and personal drawings, highlighting the struggle with the inconsistencies in dragon depictions across cultures. The narrator grapples with the desire for rigid categorization, reflecting on the fluidity of folklore and the growth from a childhood fixation to a more nuanced appreciation of dragons as cultural phenomena. The story concludes with an acceptance of the past and a continued fascination with dragons, embracing the evolving nature of these mythical beings.
Takeaways
- 📚 The speaker's fascination with dragons began with a TV show and a book, leading to an obsession with the paradox of their universal presence in myths.
- 🧐 The speaker questioned the universality of dragon legends and sought to prove dragons as real creatures through research and classification.
- 📖 'Dragonology' played a significant role in fueling the speaker's obsession by providing detailed information on dragons as if they were real.
- 🤔 Disagreements among sources about dragon characteristics led the speaker to theorize the existence of multiple dragon species interacting with different cultures.
- 🎥 'How to Train Your Dragon' resonated with the speaker due to its themes of otherness, empathy, and the outsider experience.
- 🦕 The speaker's deep dive into dragon taxonomy and folklore revealed inconsistencies, leading to the realization that dragon definitions are fluid across cultures.
- 🌐 The concept of 'dragons' is not as rigidly defined as once believed, with cultural variations and interpretations challenging the idea of a universal dragon.
- 🎮 The speaker's initial enthusiasm for Pokémon's creature classification gave way to criticism over the inclusion and exclusion of certain 'dragon type' creatures.
- 📚 The speaker eventually recognized the limitations of strict categorization and embraced the fluidity and diversity of dragon myths.
- 🌿 The speaker's personal journey reflects a broader understanding of human nature to seek patterns and create myths, including the creation of dragons.
- ✏️ Returning to drawing and embracing past interests symbolizes the speaker's reconciliation with their past self and the ongoing fascination with dragons.
Q & A
What is the central theme of the video script?
-The central theme of the video script revolves around the speaker's childhood obsession with dragons, their cultural significance, and the personal journey of grappling with the concept of dragon taxonomy and classification.
What show sparked the speaker's interest in dragons?
-The show titled 'Dragons: A Fantasy Made Real' sparked the speaker's interest in dragons and led to their deep fascination with the creatures.
How did the book 'Dragonology' influence the speaker's perception of dragons?
-The book 'Dragonology' presented dragons as real creatures with detailed characteristics and behaviors, which further fueled the speaker's obsession and led them to treat it as an actual guidebook.
What was the 'Dragon Paradox' that the speaker refers to?
-The 'Dragon Paradox' refers to the speaker's struggle to understand why every culture has legends of the same creature, despite dragons not being real, as per the show 'Dragons: A Fantasy Made Real'.
How did the speaker attempt to categorize dragons from different mythologies?
-The speaker obsessively categorized dragons from fiction and mythology, creating their own criteria for what constituted a 'real dragon' and disqualifying interpretations that did not meet these invented standards.
What role did the movie 'How to Train Your Dragon' play in the speaker's life?
-The movie 'How to Train Your Dragon' resonated with the speaker's own experiences of being an outsider and having a deep fascination with dragons. It helped the speaker to see the value in fictional flexibility and thematic exploration over strict adherence to established lore.
What did the speaker learn about the cultural universality of dragons?
-The speaker learned that there is no single, sufficient explanation for the cultural universality of dragons. They exist in various forms across cultures, and their definitions are fluid and not as rigid as initially believed.
How did the speaker's attitude towards their childhood obsession change over time?
-Initially, the speaker was eager to erase any evidence of their childhood obsession, fearing it made them seem immature. However, over time, they learned to make peace with their past self and channel their interests into new outlets.
What did the speaker conclude about the nature of dragons and their place in human culture?
-The speaker concluded that dragons continue to be a part of human culture, changing forms as worldviews shift. They are not strictly beholden to strict categories and have been with civilization since its beginning, possibly stemming from a common ancient root or a universal human tendency to imagine and create.
How does the speaker feel about their past self and their relationship with dragons now?
-The speaker has come to terms with their past self and the obsession with dragons. They acknowledge that this interest is still a part of them, but they have found ways to manage it and express it through different means, such as creating content about dragons and creature classification.
What advice does the speaker give to others who might be struggling with similar obsessions or interests?
-The speaker advises making peace with one's past selves and not trying to bury them. They encourage embracing one's interests and finding ways to channel them into positive outlets, as they have done with their fascination with dragons.
Outlines
📚 The Dragon Obsession
The speaker's fascination with dragons began with a TV show and a book, leading to an obsession with solving the 'Dragon Paradox' - why similar dragon legends exist across diverse cultures. The speaker's early beliefs were that dragons were real, invisible creatures, and this belief was fueled by a book titled 'Dragonology'. The inconsistency in dragon descriptions across sources led to the creation of personal criteria for what qualified as a 'real dragon', sparking a deep interest in dragon classification and taxonomy.
🎥 How to Train Your Dragon: A Resonance
The speaker discusses the impact of the movie 'How to Train Your Dragon' on their young self, highlighting the film's themes of otherness, empathy, and the struggle of an outsider. The movie's detailed classification system of dragons resonated with the speaker's own interests. However, the speaker also acknowledges the complexity of dragon representations in various media and the challenges of pinning down a single, universally accepted definition of dragons.
🦕 The Fluidity of Dragon Taxonomy
The speaker delves into the difficulties of categorizing dragons, comparing them to the complexities of biological taxonomy. They discuss the arbitrary nature of labels such as 'wyvern' and the varying interpretations of dragons in folklore. The speaker criticizes the rigidity imposed by some in defining mythical creatures and argues for a more fluid understanding of dragon mythology, acknowledging that cultural interpretations naturally evolve and differ.
🎞️ Adaptation and Acceptance
The speaker reflects on the adaptations of the 'How to Train Your Dragon' book into a film series, noting the changes in dragon characteristics to serve the narrative. This realization led the speaker to reconsider the need for strict categorization in fiction. They discuss the personal journey of overcoming the obsession with dragon classification and the struggle with the fear of seeming immature, ultimately leading to the destruction of physical reminders of this past interest.
🖌️ Reconnecting with the Dragon
In the conclusion, the speaker acknowledges the lasting influence of dragons in their life, despite attempts to move on from this interest. They find peace with their past self and the fascination that dragons continue to hold for them and others. The speaker embraces the evolving nature of dragons in culture and the human instinct to create and connect with such mythical creatures. They return to drawing, reconnecting with their childhood passion, and accepting that dragons, like themselves, are not confined to strict definitions.
Mindmap
Keywords
💡Dragon Paradox
💡Dragonology
💡Taxonomy
💡How to Train Your Dragon
💡Anthropology
💡Folklore
💡Draconic Monsters
💡Cultural Universality
💡Fluidity
💡Dungeon Meshi
💡Personification of the Unknown
Highlights
The individual became fascinated with dragons after watching the show 'Dragons: A Fantasy Made Real'.
The paradox of dragons existing in multiple cultures despite being mythical creatures intrigued the individual.
The book 'Dragonology' played a key role in deepening the individual's obsession with dragons.
Inconsistencies in dragon depictions across different sources led to the individual's attempt to categorize and classify dragons.
The individual related to the themes of otherness, empathy, and being an outsider in the movie 'How to Train Your Dragon'.
The concept of multiple species of dragons was used to explain the variations in folklore and mythology.
The individual's obsession with dragons led to feelings of isolation and confusion about social interactions.
The individual found solace in the idea that different cultures might have interacted with different dragon species.
The individual's childhood drawings of dragons were a reflection of a deep-rooted human instinct, as proposed by anthropologist David E. Jones.
The cultural universality of dragons has no single sufficient explanation, and the anthropological origins are complex.
The individual's desire for rigid categorization of dragons was challenged by the fluidity of dragon definitions in myths and folklore.
The individual's obsession with dragon taxonomy was influenced by the desire for control and understanding of a complex subject.
The individual recognized the limitations of strict taxonomic parameters in fictional settings, such as in Pokémon.
The individual's fixation on dragons began to shift after realizing the importance of narrative and thematic needs over strict creature classification.
The individual struggled with the fear of seeming immature and the desire to erase past interests associated with dragons.
The individual came to accept and make peace with their past self and interests, finding new ways to channel their obsessions.
Dragons continue to be a part of the individual's life and culture, evolving and adapting without strict adherence to categories.
The individual's personal journey with dragons reflects a broader human tendency to seek and create meaning through mythology and storytelling.
Transcripts
[Dragon Roaring] The problem started with a book.
Actually, I suppose it started with a show, “Dragons: A Fantasy Made Real,” that I
watched, enraptured, late one school-night.
And you could say it made me a little…
obsessed — not just with dragons, but with the paradox right there in the show’s title.
If dragons aren’t real, the show asked, how does seemingly every culture, no matter
how far apart, have legends of the same creature?
…It's a question that kind of ruined my life.
Title: The Dragon Paradox “Who are you?”
“I’m the Le Choy Dragon!”
[Earsplitting Crash].
There’s one obvious solution to the Dragon Paradox, seven-year-old-me would have told
you.
‘Dragons are real animals, they can just like, turn invisible, or something and that’s
why scientists haven’t noticed.’
And to be fair to my younger self, the worldwide predominance of the dragon myth is genuinely
remarkable — there is a fascinating anthropological mystery we need to unravel here.
But young-me wasn’t here for that, I was going to prove that dragons existed as living,
breathing creatures.
So, I went to a primary source.
I had… a few dragon books when I was younger, but really, I had one dragon book.
Dragonology is the ur-text that truly began to slow-cook my mind with dragon fever.
These pages seemed to contain answers for my every burning question — how dragons
breathe fire, how they took flight, the consistency of their dung (yes, really).
And the whole thing was written from the perspective of a fake naturalist — it’s really no
wonder I treated it like an actual guidebook.
It’s really no wonder I became so obsessed.
Yet there was a problem — none of my sources were lining up.
Books and documentaries disagreed on whether dragons were friendly or aggressive, two legged
or four legged, a few meters long, or a few hundred.
Looking directly at global myths and legends only frustrated me further — everything
seemed inconsistent, like these things were made up…
But I wasn’t ready to give in: ‘obviously,’ I reassured myself “there are multiple species
of dragon, and different cultures have interacted with different ones.”
This taxonomy-based explanation for divergences in folklore was the loophole many of my favorite
pieces of dragon-media employed anyway.
So, I began to obsessively categorize the dragons of fiction and mythology, disqualifying
interpretations that failed to meet my invented criteria for ‘real dragons.’
If a dragon had hair: Not A Dragon, if it couldn’t fly: Not A Dragon, if it sang about
reading — …actually those dragons got a pass, I thought the blue one was cool.
Looking back, this full-blown fixation on classification is… kind of funny, and kind
of, uh — …I spent a lot of time wandering into imagined realms during this period, researching
and looking for dragons.
And though I remember being happy, I also remember feeling isolated, and just generally
confused why everyone seemed to interact with the world so differently than I did.
And somehow, I thought the solution was to… talk about dragons more.
I felt that if I could explain the topic well enough, if I could disentangle the taxonomy
and solve the paradox, I could…
I don’t know.
So it almost felt like fate when at the peak of my dragon-themed social-idiosyncrasy, DreamWorks
released the first How to Train your Dragon film — a story about dragons, but also otherness;
maturity; empathy; loneliness; and being an outsider because you like dragons too much.
Yeah, it’s no surprise this movie struck a chord with my young self.
At its core, How to Train your Dragon explores why a social outsider might sympathize with
or even relate to the nonhuman or monstrous.
At the start of the film, lead character Hiccup desires societal acceptance, which in his
Viking culture requires physical strength and an unthinking readiness to commit violence
against a demonized other (in this case, dragons) — two traits he distinctly lacks.
When he finally gets the chance to kill a dragon and gain approval, his guilt prevents
him from finishing the job, “I did this.”
Instead, he nurses the creature back to health, and though Hiccup believes the reason he befriended
the dragon instead of slaying it is because he’s weak and an overthinker, it becomes
clear the real reason is because he couldn’t help but connect with the dragon’s plight.
He encountered a frightened, lonely, ostracized being and saw his own reflection.
Now, I’m not going to act like young-me was conscious of all these themes.
I was mainly pulled in by the dragons’ designs, the music (Loud Music Conducting) which is
just…
what it actually sounds like to ride a dragon, I’m sure of it, and the fact the narrative
pauses around the hour mark to show us a detailed CLASSIFICATION SYSTEM, LETS GOOOOOOOO.
Though, on some level, I connected my experiences to that of the protagonist’s, I honestly
wasn’t self-aware enough to do so more than subconsciously.
I remember thinking, ‘wow…
it sure would be tough to be an overly-obsessive social castaway, good thing everyone thinks
I’m ‘the coolest.’
…It can be a challenging thing to reflect on your past self.
(Door creaks), I was cleaning out my childhood attic recently, and I found some old dragon
drawings that brought back… mixed memories.
Recollections of sitting on my own, creating sketch after sketch.
I recall how tightly I pressed the pencil, like I was trying to will dragons into existence
through the sheer force of my tiny hand.
In the book “An Instinct for Dragons,” anthropologist David E. Jones theorizes that
creating art of draconic monsters is a deep-rooted human instinct, derived from an intrinsic
fear of reptilian predators.
Although most scholars disagree with Jones’s findings, I certainly recall my art coming
from someplace primal…
The truth is, no single explanation for the cultural universality of dragons is entirely
sufficient.
Looking around the animal kingdom, there’s all sorts of species that might have birthed
scaley legends in the minds of ancient peoples — hell, the very word ‘dragon’ comes
the Latin ‘dracōnis,’ a term synonymous with ‘large snake’ — but not all cultures
with dragon myths exist in proximity to formidable reptiles.
Dinosaur fossils have a broader distribution, and one can certainly imagine how such remains
might also conjure draconic images, but direct connections are difficult to prove definitively.
The anthropological origins of dragons likely aren’t a straight line.
Fiction is simple, the truth is… well, it’s messy.
I think that’s part of why child-me held so tightly onto the idea that dragons were
literal creatures.
I wanted them to be direct, categorizable, something that I could understand and control.
I could at least…
know my dragon facts.
Perhaps it’s only natural for those who struggle or have struggled with human interaction
to seek knowledge of the monstrous.
I’ve been re-reading Ryoko Kui’s monster-centric manga Dungeon Meshi now that it’s being
adapted into an anime, and it’s… kind of wild how closely parts of it track with
my personal experience.
Well, in a way.
What begins as a standard fantasy adventure narrative quickly goes off the rails, as the
protagonist, Laios, an archetypal knight-in-shining-armor, is revealed to be a monster fanatic determined
to study and, uh, cook every creature in the dungeon.
It’s like Lord of the Rings meets an episode of Chopped, it's so unapologetically bizarre,
but Dungeon Meshi ultimately offers a surprisingly nuanced reflection on what it means to process
the world differently.
Through the series, we’re shown Laios cannot pick up on social cues the same way as his
peers, nor does he recognize that most people don’t want to hear a never-ending barrage
of monster facts.
Though often framed through a comedic culinary lens — Laios’s desire to comprehend the
nonhuman ultimately stems from his difficulties connecting with the human.
Perhaps Dungeon Meshi’s greatest achievement is its ability to pull you into Laios’s
perspective.
Like How to Train Your Dragon, the narrative is willing to slow down and linger on the
granular details of its world, getting so specific with food preparation that if you
had monster parts on hand, I think you could cook these meals.
It’s a story just as singularly obsessed with monster biology and their classifications
as its protagonist, and teaches the viewer to think in the same terms.
And even if you don’t share the same… particular enthusiasm — that desire to know
a topic inside and out, to fully understand the rules of a subject, is, at least for me,
a relatable one.
Though my obsessions aren’t exactly the same, I’ve never wanted to eat dragons,
I do know what an all-consuming interest feels like.
But no matter how hard I tried, dragon taxonomy seemed impossible to fully digest — there
was no untangling it.
The truth I eventually had to face is that the definition of ‘dragons’ across cultures
was looser than my sources had suggested.
As it turns out, ‘dragons’ don’t exist in the same way that fish don’t exist.
Okay that sounds weird — what I mean is, we all understand what fish are, but because
all land vertebrates are fish descendants, there’s no taxonomic definition of ‘fish’
that doesn’t include…
humans.
Lots of animal taxonomy gets blurry in this way.
Like, ‘reptiles’ make sense as a category of similar-ish scaley creatures, but since
birds are descended from dinosaurs, they technically fall under Reptilia too, which does not feel
right.
That doesn’t mean these terms are useless, just that life’s categories aren’t as
orderly as they seem — and folkloric nomenclature like ‘dragons’ work the same way.
In my attempts to make dragons fit an inflexible structure, I remember following models I’d
seen in books, labelling wingless dragons as ‘drakes,’ or legless dragons as ‘wyrms’
…but really, all I was doing was applying false rigidity to terms that in myth were
more fluid.
The worst offender was how I called any two-legged dragon a wyvern and, okay — this is a rant
I’ve been on before, but it’s very close to my heart.
All over the internet people still claim that any dragon with two legs is automatically
a wyvern.
In comment sections for Lord of the Rings and Game of Thrones you will find commenters
repeating this like its doctrine, saying that Tolkien or George RR.
Martin are idiots for giving their ‘dragons’ two legs: ‘those are obviously wyverns!’
And I get it, believe me I get it, if there is a person on this planet who gets it, it’s
me.
You want clean categories, you want to be experts, but dragons in medieval manuscripts
have never had a consistent number of legs.
I wish it were true that Wyverns were an exclusive subcategory for two-legged dragons, that folklore
divided up creatures like D&D monster types.
But mythological taxonomy, like biological taxonomy, is fluid…
no matter how much young-me wanted to pretend otherwise.
Seven-year-old-me would have called this blasphemy, but the fluidity of dragon definitions is
something that media framing them as ‘real’ frankly… takes advantage of.
How does seemingly every civilization, no matter how far apart, have legends of the
exact same creature?
Well, they don’t — not really.
The definition of ‘dragon’ is so decentralized that countless likely unrelated creatures
across cultures can be made to seem draconic if you squint.
So many of the categories applied to dragons are arbitrary: it’s questionable that the
relatively modern Western Dragons are often called ‘True Dragons,’ considering that
the serpentine dragon model more common in other parts of the world is almost certainly
older.
Yet it’s hard to let go — or at least, it was for me — to resist that urge to group
everything by type.
It’s hard not to wish dragon classification worked more like — “Let’s now turn to
Nintendo’s newest game Pokémon —” “- Pokémon -” “- Pokémon -” I think that for a
lot of people, the desire for rigid categorization of fictional creatures comes from one franchise
in particular.
I never had a Gameboy or DS to play Pokémon on growing up — but I didn’t need to play
the games to know I liked their dragons.
Specifically, I liked that they were categorized.
A series all about ‘types,’ Pokémon seemed made for me.
I remember how ecstatic I was when I finally got my hands on an old Pokémon encyclopedia
at a yard sale — finally, I thought, here’s a franchise that values creature classification
the way I do.
But pedantic little complainer that I was, I remember vocally objecting to what Pokémon
placed in the ‘dragon type.’
Many of creatures bestowed that title hardly seemed scaley, scary, or… dragon-y enough
to be deserving of the designation, and other Pokémon I thought should qualify didn’t
make the cut.
I always figured this was just a me-thing, but while researching for this video I found
out that lots of people share my opinion, and have taken to the internet to complain.
People have strong feelings about Pokémon classification, a fact I learned when I mixed
up the regions in my old Pokémon Biology video, which is still the mistake I’ve gotten
the most comments about.
And I think that’s great, seriously, I understand that kind of passion!
But in the case of Pokémon’s dragon type, I’m wondering if we’re being a bit…
too harsh.
Dragons in folklore aren’t as consistent as we like to pretend.
If medieval artists didn’t have to limit their imagination with what counted as a dragon,
maybe Pokémon artists shouldn’t either.
Maybe forcing things that are made up to follow strict taxonomic parameters is… a little
limiting?
Weirdly enough, I actually think the How to Train Your Dragon series is what eventually
allowed young-me to overcome my obsession with fictional rigidity.
Because those films almost completely threw out the plot of the original books, and I
remember not caring.
And this was when I was at the age where if an adaptation was even slightly different
from the book, I took it upon myself to care.
A lot.
But these films had their own themes, and needed to rework how dragons functioned conceptually
to fit those themes.
In the books, Hiccup’s dragon Toothless is this weedy little thing, not an intimidating
personification of the unknown, and Vikings and dragons get along from the start.
But directors Dean DeBlois and Chris Sanders recognized a narrative about an outsider connecting
with the monstrous required a rework of the established lore, and… even young-me could
admit, it made the story better.
For the first time, I remember considering if fictional uniformity was perhaps…
a little juvenile.
I wish I could say that my fixation on dragon classifications ended peacefully, as the natural
result of outgrowing the subject.
But that’s not what happened.
On the cusp of my teenage years, fear of seeming immature, of being…
an outsider, led to me going full scorched earth, trying to erase any record of my ‘childish’
interests.
You might have noticed I used a stock image for my Pokémon encyclopedia — that’s
because I threw the real copy away.
And I wanted to throw my dragon books away too, I would have, if they hadn’t gotten
lost in a box years ago.
The same is especially true for my drawings — which to pre-teen me were, as something
I created, an excruciating reminder of the person I used to be.
If they hadn’t, too, been forgotten…
I honestly might have burned them.
And it’s hard, even now it’s hard, to overcome that fear of childishness.
There is still, on some level, someone else’s voice in my head telling me I should laugh
at and belittle my past-self for… what?
Having an imagination?
I said at the beginning of this video that the question of how so many cultures have
legends of the same creature kind of ruined my life.
That’s honestly not… entirely fair.
Yes, Dragons: A Fantasy Made Real just appeared on TV one day with footage of what looked
like a real scientist finding a dragon’s corpse.
Yes, that convinced me that dragons were real, kicking off a lifelong fixation.
But is that the documentary’s fault?
The narrator guy does say “What if the legends… were true?”
it was seven-year-old-me who heard “the legends are definitely true, and it’s your
job to prove it.”
To be honest, I was probably always going to turn out the… way I did — it’s just
how I was made.
It’s a curious thing to be born different.
You can feel the shape of this person you were expected to be, and you find yourself
wondering why you aren’t that person.
And I still don’t know exactly what’s… up with me, I don’t have a precise label
or category for it.
I think I’m all right with that.
Likewise…
as I’m sure you’ve probably guessed, there is no single solution to the dragon paradox
(which yes, I know, isn’t strictly a paradox).
And maybe it’s a groanworthy conclusion: that the real answer was the friends (or dragons)
we made along the way, but… that feels right to me.
Dragons have been with us since civilization’s beginning.
It’s actually possible that, like most languages, all draconic myths stem from the same ancient
root.
It's also possible that making dragons is just… something that humans do.
That we independently find them in pieces of driftwood, in bends of rivers, in the patterns
of the sky.
There’s evidence a third century Chinese historian labeled dinosaur fragments as belonging
to a dragon around the same time peasants did the same thing with whale remains a continent
away in Central Europe.
And when I think about these past humans, linked through how they chose to imagine a
more exciting explanation for the phenomena around them, I like to picture a connection
across time to my younger self, . . .doing the same thing.
I’ve spoken in past tense a lot in this video, about who I was, the person I used
to be.
But I mean —a quick glance at my channel and the sheer number of dragons and creature
classification videos I’ve made, and it’s clear that’s all… still a part of me.
I’ve just found ways to manage my obsessions and channel them into new outlets, and though
teenage-me might be mortified, I think it’s important to make peace with your past selves
instead of trying to bury them.
While making this video, sorting through the remnants of my childhood, I started thinking
about how I haven’t drawn anything in a while.
So, I picked up my pencil again.
Dragons still fascinate me, and it’s clear they still fascinate the world as well — continuing
to be part of culture, changing forms as worldviews shift, never but so beholden to strict categories.
I wouldn’t want it any other way.
And as always, thanks for watching.
This ended up being more of a personal essay than I had anticipated, but hey, if you enjoyed
this entry, please lend your support by liking, subscribing, and hitting the notification
icon, it helps me out tremendously.
See you in the next video, and stay curious.
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