Remembering when

Midsummer flowers

 It's a different world when you can't sleep. Or worse, when you can't get back to sleep after a trip to the bathroom. This is happening to me more and more often, and I'm beginning to think I am being punished for having been so smug about my ability to sleep well every night. The last few nights I have only slept five hours or so, none of it very restful. Why, I wonder, is this happening to me? My mind is busy and doesn't seem to want to shut down. Perhaps it's partly because I'm not getting my usual amount of exercise, because it's rather hot outside for me to have any extended periods of exertion. I need to remind myself that nothing stays the same, and I should listen to my body instead of grousing about what I don't seem to be able to accomplish today.

Last week I went to the garden store looking for an organic pesticide for the bugs that have begun to appear on some of my front porch flowers. While I was at the store, I stopped to smell the beautiful roses in the entryway, and I just loved their incredible odor, as they had opened and released their perfume into the sunshine. I also learned that many roses, hothouse ones in particular, don't have any smell. I wondered if it was my nose or what the story was. The ones I was smelling are bred for their scent, however, so it was very strong.

Knowing that memory is tricky and smells can trigger recollections of prior events,  it's really interesting to remember how faulty memory can actually be. Some researchers have shown that people don't remember events in the same way as time goes on. Memories are not stored in the brain like photographs or audio recordings of events; memories are recreated when they are accessed. And when we access old memories, they are modified in subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) ways. I know when my sister Norma Jean and I compare memories of our childhood, our recollections of the same time period can be wildly divergent. I used to think it is because we were different people experiencing the same event, but now I know that time has altered my memories, as well as hers.

It also makes me realize that eyewitness testimony in criminal cases is particularly useless. It's put innumerable people in jail for crimes they didn't commit, because the eyewitness was convinced their memory was correct, and it simply wasn't. Thank heavens for DNA evidence, which has cleared many innocent people. But I never considered how altered my own memory of events and people must be. I know that memories of my mother have altered through time, because I was never as fond of her in life as I am now. All the old hurts and resentments are gone, and all I have left are the wonderful memories, and even some hurtful memories are now affectionate recollections. The sting is gone, and the love remains.

I cherish the memories I have of rest of my departed family and friends. Now that I realize that my memories of them are fluid, not fixed, it doesn't make them any less valuable, but after having been recreated within the chambers of my own mind, perhaps I can forget all the old hurts and resentments I've carried around by concentrating on the good parts and letting the rest be gently massaged into oblivion. Why should I haul out old grudges? They don't do anything but upset me.

Perhaps I can do the same thing with memories of shame and embarrassment I sometimes recall. In a way, I feel like I've stumbled on a technique that might give me peace and contentment about the past that I never before considered. If memories are recreated every time I access them, I must also have some control over their effect upon me. When people get to enjoy something together, it's very exciting for both of us. One of the reasons I love my dear partner so much is all those wonderful years we spent together in skydiving, and all the memories we share. Skydiving has given me many enjoyable memories, along with a few moments of discomfort. It's time for me to let all of that go; it's been almost a decade since I last made a skydive, but the memory of freefall still remains fresh. After all, I've accumulated more than three days there, one minute at a time (61 hours in total). And I don't want to forget the good parts.

I can still enjoy the recall of the days when I taught the First Jump Course to those wide-eyed students who clung to every word, knowing that their lives might depend on whether or not they paid attention. Those were the days before everyone's cellphones became practically extensions of one's arm. I don't know what it must be like to be a teacher these days, when people's attention has been hijacked by their phones. Do teachers have a right to tell students to turn them off? (I think they should.) Let's create a world where paying attention is the most important thing we can aspire to, shall we?

A single sunbeam is enough to drive away many shadows. —Francis of Assisi

Also, I like to think that a single positive thought can drive away many disturbing moments that still remain in the corridors of my mind. I can actively rearrange my memories to shine bright sunlight in those places and drive away the shadows. Why not? Bringing love and joy into those forgotten passageways seems like a happy and productive activity for me, with the only problem being that I need to take out a psychic broom and start clearing out the detritus. I'll take the attitude that forgiveness and love can replace all of the bad stuff, and get started with the easy ones and move on from there. Will it work? You'll probably be the first to know what I uncovered. It seems like great fodder for blog posts.

Well, this post has been a little bit all over the place, and that might be because that's the current state of my consciousness. Once I get a good night's sleep, it might all look very different. But right now I'm still a bit sleep deprived. I am getting ready to start creating some new and exciting memories, as I move from my creative mode into reality and spring up out of bed. My dear partner still sleeps quietly next to me, and the day begins with a look forward into a new day. Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I hope you have a wonderful time ahead of you. Be well. I wish you all good things.