What we recall - memories of our past

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.

© Peter Choate, 2016

Memories

Memories - we all have them. Those rooted in emotion are often factually blurred by the situation in which they occur. We recall the emotion as much as the event. There is even good research that tells us memories are remembered by the body as sensations and feelings.

We can think of something as long forgotten until a sense comes along that reminds us of the past. There may be a smell of cooking or food that links us to family events. A place can take us back. For example, a friend recently referred to a place in Toronto harbour where I had spent many wonderful times with a grandfather during my childhood. Not only could I recall him, the places we would visit, but it then led to a chain of memories. I recalled the passenger train trip we would take in the summer from Vancouver to Toronto; the trolley rides I loved to take; the house on Bloor Street where one grandma lived and the other home of my paternal grandparents.

These memories are really those of emotions which I link to images, sounds, smells and touches - but they are really fragments of the true event. It is the joy of visits and relations with family that are what is remembered.

Traumatic memory can be quite different. Some are recalled in disjointed fragments while others are recalled in specific details. These memories repeat through avoidance or chronic recall. Guided meditations that help with breathing and anxiety management are useful tools for those with such memories.

Yet, for all of us, there are unpleasant memories that we need to manage, although not truly traumatic. The relationship that failed; the hoped for job that didn't materialize; the fight with your teenager that you feel guilty about; the special event forgotten. These can all cause anxiety.

I think that the memories we wish we could forget are the ones we seem to hold onto the most. The harder we want to let go the more we hold on which is because we focus upon it. Letting go requires acceptance that something imperfect, undesirable, traumatic occurred - but it is now done. Some of us need to work with a therapist to get to that point. Mediation is part of the journey as we learn to observe rather than react.

In my own journey, this has at times, been a challenge. This is where daily practice comes in. If today I am more reactive, with practice, I might be less reactive tomorrow. Self pity can cause us to hold on but little good comes from so doing.

I walked a path once known

Not recently visited

It has been many years

But I was sure of it

I recalled the turns along the creek

The sounds of the gentle flows

The places where the wildflowers grow

Today the path was no more

Floods had washed it away

Oh there were remnants

Little else

Disappointed I walked along 

Consciousness kicked in

I saw the new

A deer to my left

Water flowing over the rocks

Cliffs existed where none had been before

I was stuck no longer

In the memory of what had to be

Stepping upon new enchantment 

With eyes from the past closed

The new could now be seen

© Peter Choate, 2016