A Time To Remember

Have you ever wondered why people easily forget memories, moments, or details of past experiences? I thought my ability of recollection deteriorated severely after series of epidural injection but it was really just the dates and names that had become fuzzy over time. Even so, I tried verily occasional mind exercises to unlock specifics of experiences that seem to have been calcified at the bottom pit of the brain. It occurred to me that most people I know have some proclivities to disassociate oneself from the past. All they remember is a general overview of feelings and have no hefty effort to reminisce colors, sounds, texture, faces, scenery, etc. Every time I tell stories of events I shared with them, there were only blank faces as if they were never a part of it. What happened to them?

Blackouts. It’s not like the typical socially awkward passing out but I’m guessing people in this generation have viral emancipated memory loss. Is it the monopolistic idea of no pictures-no memory philosophy? Is it the preoccupation of daily motivations?  Is it the antagonistic sins of the past? As a result, we accept things as it happens, sinking in to the cumulative impact of societal stimulus. We change exactly the way this environment expected us to change. The thing is, no matter how we lured ourselves into a delusion this world magically offers, our past is a DNA imprint of life. It cannot be altered nor changed. We can only remember to be warned of what’s ahead.  For a time we’ve managed to procure every reroutes of escape without opening ourselves to malleable justification of the past. We must remember to forgive. We must remember to love. We must remember to rekindle faith. After all, just as we nearly come close to passing, they say the last few seconds is the painful act of remembering.

I’m offering this writing and prayer to old friends and relatives who had left this world in peace.

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Abby Mabb

Snarly female. Occasional book reviewer.

Espen Stenersrød- From Pen To Heart

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"The hero of my tale, whom I love with all the power of my soul, whom I have tried to portray in all his beauty, who has been, is, and will be beautiful, is Truth." Leo Tolstoy

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