That Funny Thing Called Memory


There must be some process that makes us forget some lived experiences still in our memory, so that we can survive. And, somehow, limping a bit, we manage to limp forward.

Those memories are like little pieces of ember

That do not set the house on fire, but have not extinguished yet. Dancing with each other in some forsaken corner of our heads. However, a small triggering makes them well vivid. Rapidly taking their place on the pole position of our memory. As if happened 5 minutes ago.

They say only the old live on memories, because that’s all they have, since their future is lived by the minute.

But it’s a lie.

There are a lot of semi-young ones living on memories. Others haven’t even left them, yet. They remain stuck in the 80-90s. 60-70s…

And some live on memories of what hadn’t happened, might have happened, holding onto what it was, as a preventive measure of the conscious. To give time to the unconscious to process the symbolic content of such memory, with more available data now.

However, memories have their own time.

They can’t be forced. They remain on the head, but follow the heart beat time. Which, as everybody knows, is slower. That’s why they seem forgotten, despite misleading us every single day.

Little ghosts living in the shadows

Making puppets out of the ego and the persona, sometimes.

We have to be patient with the memories, like we do with old people.

Memories also keep alive the ones no longer here. But who must exist somewhere in this enormous cosmos. It is too big to embrace only the living…

I like the idea of our souls to be stars.

As we tell children how someone they love won’t be able to be seen ever again. But they’ll always be seen. Because from up there, from the stars, the view is wide. You can see everything. In several places of the world at the same time.

Calling world to the Earth gives us an idea of how small we all are. Not managing to include in our reasoning the possibility of the unknown and its chance to determine the course of our lives. We only consider it when facing death, and even then, we couldn’t be bothered to know.

It must be a survival strategy of the mind

The head chooses not to see what it cannot change and is not ready to accept, yet. Because it would imply some kind of action. A conscious one, at least. Which might come across a bit of a trouble, not always paying off. On the short run, at least. 

There are good things about memory, though.

One of them is the chance to build new memories. To add those to the ones we already have. There is some criteria in there. Our memories are not randomly stored, you know? And, on top of that, to build some more. That’s this amazing thing called possibility. Which is out there, for as long as we live.

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