Dec 16
‘Memory is a Butterfly’ by Persephone
I came up with this title when scurrying around in my brain, trying to remember something that I had forgotten.
Whether it is something needing to be said, done or acted upon makes no difference. The feelings of frustration and the shadow of fear are always the same. I mention that because it is the truth of my experience. That shadow comes from the memory of my father slowly disappearing into a foggy world of his own.
When I was still living in Australia and in my mid sixties, I became aware of my own butterfly memory. The words ‘butterfly effect’ speak to me of a mind darting around, stopping to touch down on a thought and fluttering about in the hope of finding the memory of that thought.
It became apparent through very small things: not remembering where I had put my mug of tea, or why I had gone into my study. The worst was when facilitating a group I would, very occasionally, forget what I was talking about.
This alarmed me to the extent that I went to see a neurologist. First, he sent me to have a brain scan to see if there was any deterioration. There was none at all. Then he gave me a memory test. This consisted of looking at twelve objects on a tray, him taking the tray away and asking me to name what I remembered. I remembered all twelve! For some reason I found this embarrassing; had I wasted his time? He laughed and said how he wished that more people would come to see him as early as I had.
Soon, I will ask to have another test. Right now I function beautifully. It is easy to ‘fess up when I meet someone from way back when, recognise the face, but don’t remember the name. There is relief in not hiding from those moments when memory fails me. This is part of the dance of growing older.
Many of you reading this will know exactly what I am talking about. You will have spent time with friends or relatives going through the same thing. And, maybe you can relate these words to your own experience.
The odd thing is that those hard-to-grasp lost moments always seem to appear when my particular butterfly sits still. This creates a space in which the thought that is lost appears all by itself. Is there a lesson here about slowing down? Of course there is. For me, not an easy task!
December 19th, 2009 at 4:16 pm
Memory, the subject of great controversy, it is the subject I love the most. But, before I can write about that, I have to explain about my soul – which causes me problems:
For a start, what is the reason for me for having a soul? What is its purpose? Most, and I say most all the other parts of me, have a function. I almost understand what they are. But my soul, I have no idea. Please do not misunderstand what I am saying. If I could feel a soul in me, then I would respect that feeling. If I knew for certain what a soul was, then I wouldn’t mind having one. Having read so many good things that have been written about it, why would I not want one?
I have been told that if I do not have a soul I will forfeit my right of entrance into the kingdom of heaven. But since I do not believe in the kingdom of heaven either, what difference does it make? None of this tells me exactly what a soul is for.
Now, if we talk about memory, that for me would be my soul! Not because it has a function, but because it is the only true record of who James really is. It is the link between the physical and the mystical. It can recall rightly or wrongly all the oceans I have crossed. It can recall, as was written on your website so eloquently, all the people I have loved and those that have loved me. Also, all those that I have hated and those that have hated me. It reminds me of what is hot and what is cold, it reminds me of the softness and warmth of my lovers caress. It can bring a tear to my eye or a smile to my lips. A certain smell, brings back my father, a certain kind of laughter and my mother returns. If my soul could do half of this, then I would be sold! If and when my memory fails me, then James no longer exsists as James. He will have become a simple shell, and all that he was, would exsist no more. My memory leaves behind it only the physical remains. So much speculation has been made as to when the soul enters the body and when it leaves; the same can be said about the process of remembering.
December 19th, 2009 at 4:50 pm
Dear James – as full and as interesting as ever – thank you. Your letter made me think of a quotation from John O’Donohue in his book Anam Cara: “Western thought has told us that the soul is in the body. The soul was thought to be confined to some special, small, refined region within the body. It was often imaged as white in colour. . . . In fact, the more ancient way of looking at this question considers the relationship of soul to body in a converse way. The body is in the soul. Your soul reaches out further than your body and it simultaneously suffuses your body and your mind. Your soul has more refined antennae than your mind or ego. . . . . But we have to let go in order to be; we have to stop forcing ourselves, or we will never enter our own belonging.”
I have always loved this quotation. It helps me see that maybe, our memory could be a gift of the soul. Like you, I have no definitive argument for or against the soul. For me it has always represented the intangibles of life without which our lives would be very dry and barren. I think memory does play a part in that concept, from time to time. I also think that if James’s memory ‘left’ him – then James would be nearer to his original self – whoever, or whatever that happened to be. He would not carry the stories of a life-time anymore, which in turn have conditioned him and his belief system.
My dear lover, of whom I wrote recently, has just had a really bad accident which has damaged his brain. Although he is perturbed by his partial loss of memory – he is also quite liking the freedom of expression that suddenly he has found. He said to me – just twenty minutes ago “If I had to spend the rest of my life like this – that would be fine with me.”
It takes all sorts doesn’t it?
December 20th, 2009 at 4:02 pm
Dear Persephone, you are a treasure among treasures. I hope that does not sound patronizing or arrogant. Only it just seems that every time you answer a comment, especially one of mine, I am presented with further possibilities and an opportunity to look at myself from a new perspective. It stretches my flexibility of thought. I know by personal experience, that flexibility is not the easiest thing for those of us that are not in the first flush of life, or any flush for that matter. It was a little scary, your sentence that stated, “. . .then James would be nearer his original self, whoever, or whatever that happened to be.” I am of course reminded of the Jill Bolt Taylor video, where she left, as she put it, “37 years of emotional baggage behind.” But I am sure that the process of remembering is a vastly complicated one, and how it is sub-divided is equally complicated. There are so many variations of memory, from short term to past life, and all the stops in between. Even to the extent of having false memories. How is it, for example, we can change memories from our subconscious mind, and yet that mind knows nothing of the past or future? I think a little along the lines of Osho, there are just some things that should not be demystified.
December 20th, 2009 at 5:48 pm
James, thank you again for your comments. I enjoy replying to your letters. You, in turn, present me “. . .with further possibilities and an opportunity to look at myself . . .” I also agree that, “. . .there are some things that should not be demystified.”! We are mostly reading from the ‘same hymn sheet’ as they say.
January 24th, 2010 at 12:49 am
Dear Persephone, Of course, as we age ‘forgetting’ holds the potential in our imagination for Dementia or Alzheimers. Many of my friends question these little episodes and feel anxious when a film stars’ name refuses to filter to the surface. I heard a delightful explanation of the difference between ordinary forgetting and symptoms of Alzheimers – ‘ordinary forgetting is when you can’t find your car keys and more serious forgetting is when you don’t know what the keys are for!’
This puts my mind at rest.