Wednesday, 4 November 2015

Diaries - That's not wot 'appened!

I heard the other week that when we remember something, we are actually remembering the previous time we remembered it, not the original event itself.
Not being a neurobiologist, I had a civilian root around and this seems to be the general consensus but I haven't conducted experiments myself to validate the findings.


I got to thinking how Mormons are encouraged to keep a diary, to record the daily event and also the insights that occur in their lives.  The big cheeses, le grand fromages, the head honcho's, as far as I am aware didn't say "you have to take a biro and write it on a piece of paper bound in a book for that specific purpose" so instead I have in recent years decided to email my diary updates to myself for printing.  I can type faster than I can write.  I am more often found at a keyboard that a writing bureau.  It works for me.


We move house quite frequently.  Since the age of 24 I've bounced around in a state of "this fixed abode isn't likely to be fixed for very long".  I chose to move every time.  Each time was for a good reason.  What it didn't foster, though, was a sense of permanence and of being able to settle in.  It's a running joke that if I'm not willing to carry it to the truck next time, it's not coming in my house.  Thus I have very few personal possessions.  What I do have, however, are earlier diaries, written by me when I was feeling particularly like recording what was going on.


Ladies and Gentlemen, I have a good memory.  I am pretty blessed with good recall, particularly if there is an audible element to the interaction.  However, when I read back over my diaries which have travelled with me all these house moves, I noticed that there had been a drift, a huge difference between what happened (what I'd written) and how I thought it happened (my 2015 memory of the event) and it is this drift which made me appreciate, for the first time, why it was good to keep a diary.  It is like having the opportunity to re-calibrate and get back to an authentic starting point, which is highly valuable and most definitely appreciated.


To revisit wonderful events such as the birth of a child, or what serving a mission was really like, what it was like to move from my home town to somewhere I hardly knew anybody, the wedding day, holidays, or how frustrated I was to live in a dusty and half renovated house, how liberating and life affirming it was during the time I was agnostic, how really furious I was at a huge bust up, or how this years health kick really will be the one to change everything added a richness to the memories I walk around with daily.


I am also someone who is immensely frustrated at not being able to see the end from the beginning.  It is a physical pain, a torment, and makes me want to sharpen a biro or two.  It is a common phrase among my friends "the end from the beginning".  The diaries I found in a suitcase of books from the most recent 3 house moves helped me see a pattern over a period of years - not the day or two I was hoping for when in the midst of challenges - of how things panned out, how with consistent effort and attention we worked through everything thus far.  I love meme's and one of my favourites is "I have a 100% track record of getting through rough times".  The diaries are evidentiary support of this simple idea.  I have gotten through the bad, I have always and vigorously embraced the fantastic, I have a happy habit of seeing the good, and even on the days where I make a nest in a pile of duvets and cannot be coaxed out for love nor money it all worked out ok.  I can see in hindsight the times when I was loved and looked after.  I can see the unfolding of hopes, dreams and promises.  It is rather humbling to be taught by yourself in the present moment from a time in the distant past, like a voice from the dust.  I think I may try to be a little more diligent going forward.

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