Memories of Memories

I have for the past two or so weeks written about some of my memories. Memories are simply our recollections of experiences, but as they age and mature they weave into what we are and what we have become. Like our dreams and our intentions our memories are imperfect not completely true, because they have become interweaved into our personalities, developing them, changing them and progressing them.

Our memories start with consciousness and the events that become memories shape that consciousness. Memories are the spirals of oxygenated acid that create the code that makes each one of us unique, because no event, even an event witnessed by millions, will ever be received by any two people in exactly the same way.

When a friend recounts an experience that you once shared, your friend will remember some of what you remember, fill in gaps of your memories but however much you try, you will never recreate the event. You may come close to it, perhaps even close enough to smell feel and nearly touch it. That is as close as we can get to travelling back in time, through those memories stored in the complex chemicals of our minds.

As I read my memories, I find that perhaps I have changed them, added to them perhaps, and certainly subtracted from them. Those memories, imperfect and false, are now part of your memories. I wish you well with them.

One Response

  1. Remember this story Rob as the ice returns.

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