Living Maps Have Moving Borders

Sometimes our senses transport us back to a specific moment in time. Other times, they drop us into such a random memory that we’re left shaking our heads at the strange places our minds can go.

But every once in a while, that bizarre detour leads us somewhere meaningful.

For me, a single passage from a book unexpectedly dropped me into my 10th-grade geography class. Wild.

That class was taught by a coach, and our assignment was to memorize every country in Africa along with its capital city. If that sounds overwhelming, it was—especially since spelling counted on the final exam.

I still remember the colorful map being pulled down at the front of the room while we drilled country after country. And yes, I realize I’m dating myself here. Pull-down classroom maps were everywhere back then—this was 1994, after all.

This isn’t a reflection on why we were learning African geography in a small town in central Iowa. Instead, it’s a pause—a stopgap—for something that struck me while reading Starry Messenger by the infamous scientist Neil deGrasse Tyson. In the book, Tyson explores how science can shape our thinking, and at one point, while discussing maps, he writes:

“The colored shapes show us what we are not.”

That stopped me cold.

A statement like that could send even the most amateur philosopher spiraling into deep reflection. And honestly, it holds up when you think about the people you’ll encounter over a lifetime. We’re all building maps—of experiences, relationships, successes, and failures.

It reminded me of a scene from The Lion King. Mufasa stands with young Simba on a cliff, surveying the land, and tells him that one day, everything the light touches will be his kingdom. Those are the parts of the map he proudly shares. But when Simba asks about the shadowy area beyond the light, his father tells him he must never go there. Same land—different stories.

Different maps and our maps matter. And they should be accessible.

I’m not saying we need to display every colored shape for everyone to see. But we should be able to access the full picture. But we also should be cautious of those who only talk about the bright colors and never acknowledge the gray. Which brings new meaning to calling someone shady, huh?

Sharing what we’ve learned while building our maps is how we help those we care about most. When it’s their turn to explore new territory, we want them drawn toward expanding the bright regions rather than getting lost in the gray. We all wander into the gray at some point—it’s unavoidable. But with guidance, we can help steer one another toward a life filled with more light than shadow.

As for me, I may one day try to relearn the countries and capital cities of Africa… but probably not. Still, the irony isn’t lost on me. Back in that classroom, likely two Chads were fighting for attention—the country on the map and the kid who lived down the street.

At least I still know how to spell that one.