Memories
I’m sitting here holding “Solomon’s Ring,” by Konrad Lorenz in hand remembering reading it as a college sophomore in an Animal Behavior course, but not remembering what it was about. Oh, it has something to do with animal behavior and geese, but I don’t remember Lorenz’s thesis, or any of the details. So I’m reading it again.
By the way, my Animal Behavior professor had an aquarium inhabited by a single lobster. He wanted to observe and document a particular behavior of the lobster. But the lobster had ensconced himself between rock and tank rear wall, where he remained night and day. A normal lobster would scurry along the ocean floor looking for food, courting mates, and defending territory against all challenges. But not this lobster. This lobster never went for a walk; never hunted for food, because food would plop down in front of him; never defended his territory, because there were no challengers to defend it agains; and never courted a mate, because there was no mates to be had. So much for observing animal behavior in the lab.
Back to memories. Not remembering stories often happens to me. As time passes I forget what I read, or worse, I misremember. Over the years I’ve had several rude awakenings rereading favorite books and realizing the story I remembered is not the story I just read. I seem to have replaced key scenes with fabrications of my mind.
What I think is going on is after reading a story I go over it again and again in my mind playing “”What If?” What if this had happened instead of that? And when the alternatives I fabricate are more satisfying, my mind swaps the fake for the real.
But this process of replacing the real with the fantasy can happen with real-life events too. Something happens. I react in a certain way. Later on, the event and my response bothers me, so I replay it in my head, again and again, each time playing “What If?” Given enough replays over enough times, I modify key events to make myself feel better about how I handled the situation. Eventually my memory is the fantasy and not the truth.
I’m not sure what this says about my creative genius, but I know what it says about the integrity of my memories. We are the sum total of our memories (our experiences). They define us. Without memories we have no concept of “I”. So, if I have false memories, am I the person I think I am? Or am I someone else, someone I don’t know? Who am I, really?
If you question the power of memories and their ability to define a person for better or worse, think of an amnesiac. He awakens having no idea who he is or what he believes in. Oh, he may remember how to brush his teeth, but he is far less likely to remember if he is a liar and a thief or an ethical person. Which raises the question, as he lives his new life, does he acquire the same convictions and belief systems he held in his previous life? Or does he build another self, one that might radically differ from his old self.
Remember when false or planted memories were all the rage in the late 80’s and 90’s? After a few sessions of intense analysis and introspection, psychiatrists would yank from the deepest chambers of the mind memories of outrageous abuse, molestation, and assault at the hands of dear old dad or every teacher at school.
Doctors and “therapists” would get patients to remember all sorts of things that never happened. The power of suggestion is powerful indeed. Prompted by their doctors, patients would fictionalize events, even entire histories. Patients were thinking they were victims of child abuse, when no such thing ever happened. How different their version of self must have been after therapy than before. Soon prosecutors were convicting innocent people of the most heinous crimes based almost solely on false memories conjured by psychiatrist and patient together. It took a lot of work to undo unfounded accusations against the innocent, and accusations of child molestation can never be undone, no matter how false the charges are revealed to be. The taint remains. on victim. On accuser.
Maybe you don’t have a memory problem. Maybe your mind is a steel trap. But remember, memories have great power, so make sure you remember correctly. And if you aren’t sure, then say you don’t remember. Don’t guess.
By the way, my Animal Behavior professor had an aquarium inhabited by a single lobster. He wanted to observe and document a particular behavior of the lobster. But the lobster had ensconced himself between rock and tank rear wall, where he remained night and day. A normal lobster would scurry along the ocean floor looking for food, courting mates, and defending territory against all challenges. But not this lobster. This lobster never went for a walk; never hunted for food, because food would plop down in front of him; never defended his territory, because there were no challengers to defend it agains; and never courted a mate, because there was no mates to be had. So much for observing animal behavior in the lab.
Back to memories. Not remembering stories often happens to me. As time passes I forget what I read, or worse, I misremember. Over the years I’ve had several rude awakenings rereading favorite books and realizing the story I remembered is not the story I just read. I seem to have replaced key scenes with fabrications of my mind.
What I think is going on is after reading a story I go over it again and again in my mind playing “”What If?” What if this had happened instead of that? And when the alternatives I fabricate are more satisfying, my mind swaps the fake for the real.
But this process of replacing the real with the fantasy can happen with real-life events too. Something happens. I react in a certain way. Later on, the event and my response bothers me, so I replay it in my head, again and again, each time playing “What If?” Given enough replays over enough times, I modify key events to make myself feel better about how I handled the situation. Eventually my memory is the fantasy and not the truth.
I’m not sure what this says about my creative genius, but I know what it says about the integrity of my memories. We are the sum total of our memories (our experiences). They define us. Without memories we have no concept of “I”. So, if I have false memories, am I the person I think I am? Or am I someone else, someone I don’t know? Who am I, really?
If you question the power of memories and their ability to define a person for better or worse, think of an amnesiac. He awakens having no idea who he is or what he believes in. Oh, he may remember how to brush his teeth, but he is far less likely to remember if he is a liar and a thief or an ethical person. Which raises the question, as he lives his new life, does he acquire the same convictions and belief systems he held in his previous life? Or does he build another self, one that might radically differ from his old self.
Remember when false or planted memories were all the rage in the late 80’s and 90’s? After a few sessions of intense analysis and introspection, psychiatrists would yank from the deepest chambers of the mind memories of outrageous abuse, molestation, and assault at the hands of dear old dad or every teacher at school.
Doctors and “therapists” would get patients to remember all sorts of things that never happened. The power of suggestion is powerful indeed. Prompted by their doctors, patients would fictionalize events, even entire histories. Patients were thinking they were victims of child abuse, when no such thing ever happened. How different their version of self must have been after therapy than before. Soon prosecutors were convicting innocent people of the most heinous crimes based almost solely on false memories conjured by psychiatrist and patient together. It took a lot of work to undo unfounded accusations against the innocent, and accusations of child molestation can never be undone, no matter how false the charges are revealed to be. The taint remains. on victim. On accuser.
Maybe you don’t have a memory problem. Maybe your mind is a steel trap. But remember, memories have great power, so make sure you remember correctly. And if you aren’t sure, then say you don’t remember. Don’t guess.
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