being frank

If you clicked on this posting in the hopes of reading about OPEC or the latest oil-based ideological drive, you’re going to be disappointed. The observations noted here relate to something that affects every single living human being, albeit with varying degrees of urgency or even success. This commentary pertains to a resource that exists deep within us all, and to our paradoxical determination to systematically ignore or devalue it to the detriment of every successive generation. I’m talking about memories as a conspicuous means for the acquisition of knowledge through the simple yet inescapable act of aging.

To me, memories are like a collection of recorded media be they visual, auditory or both. These multimedia snippets get added daily to my personal ‘memory card’. Each is then forged into a remembrance, helping life become clearer and more defined and its purpose less about chance and more about foregone conclusions. And yet a question that always seems to pop up in my head whenever I gather one of these mental snapshots is that no one will really want to pay attention to an old person droning on about the dusty memories in their mind.

Regardless of how you wish to value the relevancy of memories, they continue to grow and reside in the corners of your mind through a feature of biology that is driven neither by a romantic nor an aesthetic notion. As early as two and a half years of age, you begin to collect memories that will invariably shape the person you become in life. Your mind is literally made for and about memories (interesting fact – the average human brain can hold 2.5 million gigabytes of memory.) These impressions are part of what defines your brain’s existence and the manner in which you perceive the very passing of time. Aging can cloud or distort memories, disease can eradicate them and toxic beliefs may even alter their makeup. Yet regardless of the influences to which they’re exposed, the number of new memories continues to grow as fast as your curiosity will allow. They possess the power to alter the structure of the world we live in, resulting in varying degrees of change affecting ideologies and modes of existence whose consequences will be for future generations to judge. As Abraham Lincoln once wrote, The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.

Humanity has entertained the notion of time for millennia, and our memories have contributed to understanding the concept of how it passes. We delight in the occasional journey into another era be it through books, films or discussions. The fact that we contemplate other periods in time is in and of itself, a form of time travel. We use our vast repository of memories to extract life segments we’ve lived, that have been relayed to us by people whom we’ve admired or respected, or even from novels or films that addressed what once was or is yet to be. It’s an amazing voyage filled with sights and sounds and even smells that bring these echoes back to the relevancy of our conscious mind. Memories (and their placement in history) are the closest thing that link us to the eternal.

We all seek out our memories because we depend on them to teach and enlighten (and yes, to entertain.) They qualify or demonize the daily observations we make, transforming each into a memory and then a belief that is substantiated thanks to past sensorial truths. We sometimes tend to believe what we remember more so than what we see or hear in the present. That’s because memories have been scrutinized by time and endorsed through countless accepted truths or beliefs, helping to build a foundation for all that we know. Memories are the cornerstone of our conscious existence and that of the world around us.

Yet despite all the value we ascribe to them, memories will tend to devalue as time moves on. They begin to lose their ability to measure up against new memories or observations that continually flood our hippocampus and prefrontal cortex, demanding equal consideration. Those established truths in our mind, once the gold standard of our reality, may find themselves fighting a battle against new truths or proven suppositions. They may be slowly eroded by social vanity or shortsighted advancements driven by high profits or low regard. They may also be supplanted by a rising disregard or distrust for those figures or ideals once held in high esteem. The simple passing of time, once the trusted friend of fleeting moments and compelling mysteries, now holds judgement in favor of younger minds with recent remembrances that sometimes lack the depth of foundational experience and hard-earned wisdom that would imbue them with the weight of integrity and reliability.

As a species, we have been prone to dispose of things we no longer consider viable. We lose sight or patience when around those things that are aged. We crave new; its sleekness, polish, and speed; the mystery of untapped potential and the promise of greater journeys and achievements. We are compelled to look outward and upward; to go towards horizons and adventures filled with excitement and the potential for creating new and seemingly limitless memories. There is nothing wrong with this. It is the quintessential cycle of life and the fundamental principle for every generation that has been and will ever be.

But there are still all those old memories. 

Today, we live in a state of perpetual motion. A frantic momentum upon which we sail through life with our compass set to a concept of true north. Each experience and subsequent memories are captured, catalogued and relegated to that segment of time known as the past. They exist for a moment as an adjective and forever as a noun. Starting as action, they inevitably morph into a static reference with echoes of reverence that eventually grow tired and tarnished as they fade into the recesses of our mind to live in relative obscurity.

Yet as we age, we come to understand the finite nature of that momentum. Excitement is traded for introspection, and the light that guided our every step is now turned inward to revive and reflect on those memories that hold the keys to life’s meaning. They reveal the true world to us; not the incessant rush driven by greed, power, or a sense of social competitiveness, but those amazing life experiences that were often tasted but rarely savored. As we rise in years, we lower our expectations of life and turn to revisit those threads of wisdom and understanding that will, if allowed, reveal the true, beautiful and amazingly essential meaning of life. Our life.

Memories – all memories – are made for sharing. They are the tools that shape the building blocks of tomorrow and provide a haven for hope that helps to scatter our anxieties and allow us a moment of peace when facing grief, indifference or fear. These memories are valuable. More importantly, they’re nature’s living legacy cultivated through one of its greatest creations. It is the fruit of successive generations that is meant for harvest, not waste. The symbiotic relationship between old and new is what helps memories thrive, feeding the fertile minds of tomorrow so they in turn, may feed future generations. It is metaphysical as much as it is genetic, and the future of humanity – the safety and transcendence of humanity – depends on our willingness to take the time to engage in meaningful conversations with old friends and family relations to help our collective memories thrive and endure.