[Exploring Life] A Journey Into Memory: It has now been nearly two months since my father passed away, and five months since my mother passed away. I am learning more and more about the nature and power of memory; the ways in which I interpret and explore my own memories are changing in response to the experience of losing both parents. While I have always understood that memory is more than a mere recollection of facts or a mental romp through past events, I am quite surprised at the vast perceptual landscape that memory embraces. Memory can reveal itself through powerful imagery that envelope our senses is the essence of an experience. Memory can be an echo originating in the resonance of a sound that is retrieved from the past. Memory can simply be a feeling that has no clear reference to either visual image or sound; memory can be a sensation of touch deep within the body. In this post I will share the memory of the immediate aftermath of my parents’ death in order to explore the deeper workings of memory.

Perhaps the most profound experiences in life, such as the loss of loved ones, are those that reanimate and reawaken the latent dimensions of memory. Our memories are not limited to a process of remembering. Memories are inexorably creative, imaginative, and resilient forms of experience. The experience of memory does not simply transport us back into the past; memories redefine the present and influence the shape of our future. We cannot hold on to a memory or freeze it in time since memories are a process of constantly gestating and bringing forth that which is new. Memory and thinking are one unified phenomenon; we think with our memories and our memories imbue every thought we have. The most significant events in our lives forever change the character and personality of our memories.

Memory… is the means by which most of us retain our sanity… Memory is the purgative by which we rid ourselves of the present… Memory is a form of hope… Memory is making peace with time… Memory is survival.
- Timothy Findlay in Inside Memory: Page’s From a Writer’s Notebook

The Persistence of Memory: I am struck by the persistence of certain memories. Often the memories that seem to be the most persistent are the ones that we no longer wish to have. Memory becomes persistence when it has something we must learn from it, and it will be relentless in pursuit of our attention. One of my most potent excursions into memory originate in the experience of sitting with the bodies of my parents immediately after they had passed away. It was a difficult and painful experience, one that is hard to apprehend as it completely humbles the imagination and rationale mind. It is also an experience that while painful is not morbid or morose.

In the presence of impermanence, memory is immediately and permanently transformed.

The images of their lifeless bodies remain strikingly clear. I can recall with great clarity sitting with them after they had passed and being embraced and transformed by a deep sense of absence. In life, both my parents had a significant presence in our family, both in word and deed. Even though I could still see and touch the body that was my mother or father, it was poignantly clear to me that presence had, forever, transformed into absence. The body I could still see and touch no longer held the essence of my mother or father. Yet, I would in no way say that their body was “lifeless” as I could still feel their energy around me, that is to say, their energy in my memory of them. Still, as I looked at them I was overwhelmed with what was no longer there.

These memories of their lifeless bodies are somewhat of a constant companion. I no longer try to fight them off and instead allow their presence. Traditional advice for the grieving sometimes asks people to replace painful memories with those that are from happier times. While there is obvious merit to this and we certainly do not wish to get mired in painful memories, I believe that we also must move through the pain caused by certain memories in order to properly embrace them within. Emotional pain is uncomfortable, and to describe the memories of their lifeless bodies as being uncomfortable is an understatement. I don’t want to “become” the memory, but I do want to embrace it so that I can learn from it. Impermanence requires that we allow pain and suffering to teach us about meaning and purpose in life.

Memory can invite pain, and painful memories can be persistent and pervasive. Their persistence will, however, begin to fade and transform into something healing once we allow ourselves to be properly instructed by it. That means literally sitting with the memory and observing it, without being drawn into “reliving” habitually. I know with certainty that both my mother and father would not want their deaths to become a source of psychological pain, but instead be a source of healing and gratitude for life itself. To experience healing and feel the touch of gratitude, however, we must navigate the uncharted terrain of loss and absence.

Immersed in memories of loss and absence we are, each one of us, inexorably alone.

The Touch of Impermanence: One of the most challenging memories I have is watching the process of moving their bodies into a “body bag” in order to transport them out of the nursing home. I chose to watch over this process not because I feared that their bodies would be handled improperly, but out of respect. The body was first wrapped in a clean white sheet. The last image I have is their body being wrapped in the white sheet. Each time the assistant asked me if it was alright to cover their face, and I watched intensely as I knew this would be the last time. The last significant sound I have associated with both parents is that of the zipper being drawn up to close the body bag. The body is then moved to a gurney and slowly walked to waiting transportation. All to be seen at this point is a black bag shaped to the contour of a human body being wheeled away, and eventually, out of sight.

I do not have dreams or nightmares about this experience (at least that I recall), and the intensity of the emotional disturbance it originally inspired has started to move into other forms. Yet, the feeling and touch of that memory is both relentless and persistent. I have struggled to name exactly what this feeling or touch is but I now refer to it as the touch of impermanence. The loss of my parents brings into vivid reality the true and unavoidable nature of life – and that is impermanence. I have read about impermanence before and thought about it, but it was never a true companion in my life. Now it is and it has a very clear and defined presence within. Impermanence is no longer merely an intellectual pursuit; it informs a way of being in the world that fully embraces the unavoidable reality that all things come to an end – at least an end to life as we know it.

Even though this particular memory is relentless, I never experience it in exactly the same way. Memories do not merely repeat themselves; my perceptions and thoughts have changed over time, and my emotional reactions to it have altered. None of this is to say that the memory is losing potency, since if anything its effects have only intensified. But the vector of intention within that memory only gradually reveals itself. What heals is our individual ability to “be with” our experiences and to allow ourselves to “move through” them in order to learn what it is they have to offer us in life. Learning to be fully aware in the presence of a challenging memory is essential. Memory in this sense is the environment in which we are openly, honestly and humbly “with” our experiences. Journeying through the source of energy within a memory, however painful and unsettling, is an essential rite of passage.

Memory is a living landscape that can befriend our presence, or cause us to become irreversibly lost in our own skin.

The Life-long Rhythm of Memory: The notion that somehow “times heals all” is trite. I have spoken with people that lost a parent several years ago, and the persistence of that memory still causes obvious anguish. In a sense, they have yet to heal. Healing is a human capacity; time is a mechanical system of measurement. To say that we retrieve some magical sense of reprieve from potent memories simply through the passage of time is nonsensical. It is entirely possible to be stuck in a particularly difficult memory for a short period of time, a long period of time, and even the rest of your life. Memory effects body, mind – and spirit. Once our spirit is called to attention by a memory, we are required to embark on a journey – willingly or otherwise.

Memories ebb and flow with each other in a lifelong confluence of narratives.

Memories, I believe, naturally change and evolve over time. Memory cannot exist in stasis. This is how we learn from them – by accepting the often mysterious journey they invite. The school-based notion of memory as an ability to recall facts and information clearly degrades the true vibrancy and purpose of human memory. A memory is a kind of narrative of body, mind, and spirit that ebbs and flows throughout our lifetime. In this way, memory becomes a biological, mental, and spiritual basis for story-telling, or a way of telling ourselves to ourselves. What we remember cannot truly be frozen in time, since what we remember about a single experience is never really quite the same.

Thus the memories associated with the images of their bodies immediately after death will evolve over time. And these memories, it is worth repeating, while painful, are not morbid or morose. Difficult memories will cause suffering, but avoidance of this suffering is the denial of experience. No one wants to suffer. Suffering is, however, an essential experience in life for there is no life without some element of suffering to remind us of the mystery and gift that life is. Placing a specific duration on a particular memory is irrelevant. The question, “How long will a memory last?” misses the point. Memories are motion, they constantly move us into new places and realms; they are never simply “finished.”

Remembrance: Another strange notion encouraged by education systems is that memory is something that mainly occurs in the mind. That is to say, when we remember something those remembrances are mainly stored in our heads. But memories also tactile; and a memory can quite literally touch our heart so that we feel its biological presence within. Memories are also auditory, that is to say, a memory will echo and reverberate simultaneously throughout our body, mind and spirit. In other words, memories do not have boundaries within our physical, mental or spiritual being; they effortlessly permeate all aspects of being. Memories ride freely on the energy of our cells, our thoughts, and our souls.

As I recall sitting beside my mother immediately after she had died I can feel a physical reaction within me. There is a strange and immediate feeling that occurs in my skin, an awkward feeling, a not altogether inviting feeling. Yet I also sense this feeling is not present to cause harm. It is a feeling that seems to make itself known even before thoughts start to unfold. Or is the feeling in fact a thought? I sense this is in fact the case, that is, thoughts are not separate and distinct from feelings and that in fact we cannot truly separate thought from emotion, nor would we necessarily want to. While some pursue the amplification of thought over emotion, I have learned that emotion is in fact an inseparable companion from thought. There is no dispassionate way to think or remember; memories are always affective.

Memories are touch.

Memory may or may not have a specific image associated with it, but it usually always has an emotional texture that permeates our skin. We might not be able to articulate memories as intellectual objects for analysis, but we can certainly feel their impact on our sense of being. Memories do not always allow themselves to be described in words; sometimes memories silence us. This is in fact my current state with respect to sitting on the edge of their beds holding their hands after they had passed away. While it would be easy to describe it visually, the memory has not revealed its lessons to me yet. Words do not emerge while the touch of the experience overwhelms.

Memory as Safari: A memory can act as a catalyst for a physical, mental and spiritual journey into potent experiences in life. We investigate important ideas such as purpose and meaning in the midst of our memories. A safari is a long adventurous journey for hunting, investigating or exploring in the midst of the wild. A safari into memory is an adventurous journey in the midst of a wild and untamed wilderness we call our situations and circumstances throughout the confluence of everyday life.

A safari into a difficult memory can invoke a sense of danger in that we may become stuck and mired in the midst of painful remembrances unable to find a way out. I sense, however, that the most authentic purpose of human memory is to provide a context to heal from suffering and to provide hope for the future. All healing assumes the presence of some form of pain and suffering. Memories originating in painful experiences are in reality environments for healing, though the suffering incurred along the route may make us believe otherwise.

For myself, I know that the nature of my memory has changed dramatically in the past five months. Difficult and challenging events have elevated the role of memory in my present circumstance, not as a means to wax nostalgic or become mired in sadness, but as a wild and completely unfamiliar landscape that compels me to explore. The memory of their lifeless bodies, as a presence that has crossed a threshold of no return and become absence, is one of those landscapes. And as I travel through it I know the memory will, perhaps subtly, begin to reveal its intention and encourage me to liver in a deeper and more meaningful way. And this is something I know both my mother and father would encourage me to pursue – in a manner of speaking, perhaps they are right now.