Right. Memory is a funny thing. Do our brains encode and store everything? Why do we remember some things and not others? Funny, sometimes early memories are so real, alive and vivid. And we forget what we ate for lunch (oh, I remember, PASTA!), yesterday. Are we constantly editing? Deciding what is important and what isn't?
I read somewhere, I forget where, although, now I think of it, it was in a Philip K. Dick novel, that maybe all learning, all "discovering," is just "remembering." Maybe the Universe is one long vast remembering? I also remember a line that sticks with me from that same novel: "You are the Authority." Funny what you remember, or maybe it's choose to remember?
Weird. Right? What else did he say in the novel? Beats me. I don't remember.
I was talking to a close friend yesterday about our shared childhood. Turns out our "shared" childhoods are quite different. Events that for her were so vivid, powerful and influential made no impression on me whatsoever.
And you know, it's weird to think that there are experiences that I experienced that are not in my memory bank. Did I live there? Did I do the things I supposedly did? If I don't remember, at all, what does that mean? What does that say about me?
I am a fallible being. My memory plays tricks. I remember what I remember. A Tricky Monkey times Two! How about you?
