Memories of our past form part of conversations, our thoughts and the basis of many off our actions. We firmly tell people about things that have formed who we have become. Some are just factual - "I went to school at..." "I graduated from ...." "I married..."
Many memories rely on emotions to put the story together meaning that we rely less on factual detail. Smells, tastes, sights and sounds all play together making up what we recall and when. What is that we see in our mind's eye, unsure perhaps, but an historical fiction created in the moment bearing resemblance to truth.
This all came to mind when I was recently sent a collection of photographic slides my father had taken throughout my childhood. As I looked at them, it was clear that certain events had not happened in the way I recalled them. I also saw family relationships unfolding in ways that did not conform to how I had told the stories. Was I lying? No. This is an example of what happens when we mix emotions, events and the passage of time.
Some events are very clear to us. There was something stark about them. I can tell you precisely where I was when I learned that my mother had died. I cannot do the same for my father's death yet I would say I was closer to him (and the old photographs detail this). I can tell you exactly where I was when I learned of Kennedy's assassination and 9/11. Where was I when John Lennon was shot - no idea. Yet, I loved the music of Lennon (still do). Memory is a fickle thing.
This is important in meditation. When we come to understand that what we truly know is the present moment, we are less burdened with the various versions of history that we hold within us. Such a way can help in managing the impact of trauma. In my case, I can look back on the trauma but then I can also step away from it knowing that, in this moment, I can decide what, if any power I will give the trauma.
Now to be sure, meditation is not the only tool I use to manage the impact of trauma. None the less, meditation is powerful in keeping boundaries around its impact. I can also slip into very brief meditation to help when a situation has triggered an emotional, traumatic memory. This allows me to be in the moment and to have more "control" on my behaviours. Certainly, I am imperfect in this but each moment allows me a new opportunity.
Neuroscience tells us that memory is imperfect to varying degrees in varying ways. Eyewitness testimony has been shown to be quite unreliable in many cases. Situations influence how we recall and frame a memory. If that is the case, maybe we might ask why is it important to become strongly attached to a memory. The answer is only as a learning tool not as Scrooge's weight of Christmas Past.
Memory's Script
Robbie Robertson tells tales of
Rocker years gone by.
We sit, listen, reminisce,
Place ourselves into his stories.
None of it is true
While all of it is.
We gloss or demonize, romanticize or terrorize
All that has gone before.
We would take an oath
To its veracity.
Yet asked twice
The story would vary.
No matter,
In our core it is as we recall.
The fictions many times retold
Each with new scenes.
Life is a drama,
with no script.
Memory is recall,
Without prepared lines.
Many memories rely on emotions to put the story together meaning that we rely less on factual detail. Smells, tastes, sights and sounds all play together making up what we recall and when. What is that we see in our mind's eye, unsure perhaps, but an historical fiction created in the moment bearing resemblance to truth.
This all came to mind when I was recently sent a collection of photographic slides my father had taken throughout my childhood. As I looked at them, it was clear that certain events had not happened in the way I recalled them. I also saw family relationships unfolding in ways that did not conform to how I had told the stories. Was I lying? No. This is an example of what happens when we mix emotions, events and the passage of time.
Some events are very clear to us. There was something stark about them. I can tell you precisely where I was when I learned that my mother had died. I cannot do the same for my father's death yet I would say I was closer to him (and the old photographs detail this). I can tell you exactly where I was when I learned of Kennedy's assassination and 9/11. Where was I when John Lennon was shot - no idea. Yet, I loved the music of Lennon (still do). Memory is a fickle thing.
This is important in meditation. When we come to understand that what we truly know is the present moment, we are less burdened with the various versions of history that we hold within us. Such a way can help in managing the impact of trauma. In my case, I can look back on the trauma but then I can also step away from it knowing that, in this moment, I can decide what, if any power I will give the trauma.
Now to be sure, meditation is not the only tool I use to manage the impact of trauma. None the less, meditation is powerful in keeping boundaries around its impact. I can also slip into very brief meditation to help when a situation has triggered an emotional, traumatic memory. This allows me to be in the moment and to have more "control" on my behaviours. Certainly, I am imperfect in this but each moment allows me a new opportunity.
Neuroscience tells us that memory is imperfect to varying degrees in varying ways. Eyewitness testimony has been shown to be quite unreliable in many cases. Situations influence how we recall and frame a memory. If that is the case, maybe we might ask why is it important to become strongly attached to a memory. The answer is only as a learning tool not as Scrooge's weight of Christmas Past.
Memory's Script
Robbie Robertson tells tales of
Rocker years gone by.
We sit, listen, reminisce,
Place ourselves into his stories.
None of it is true
While all of it is.
We gloss or demonize, romanticize or terrorize
All that has gone before.
We would take an oath
To its veracity.
Yet asked twice
The story would vary.
No matter,
In our core it is as we recall.
The fictions many times retold
Each with new scenes.
Life is a drama,
with no script.
Memory is recall,
Without prepared lines.
© Peter Choate, 2016
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