Here’s something to jog your memory.
Jogging your memory has nothing to do with running. In fact it’s the exact opposite. It’s like standing completely still. Still enough to go back to a place, a feeling, or a moment you left a long time ago.
Sometimes I hear a song that instantly takes me back to a single, very distinct memory. In fact, sometimes it’s so strong that I feel like I’ve been transported to that moment, and am standing face to face with it. I can feel what I felt; I can sense what I sensed. It’s the most bizarre[i] feeling.
Anytime I hear Thunderstruck, I’m instantly 6 years old, laughing at my dad imitating Angus Young doing the duck walk. I can see it, and it still never fails to make me smile. I wonder if my dad even remembers duck walking. I don’t think I’ve seen him do it since.
With certain people, I always recall something they once told me, way back when. Sometimes this ‘something’ isn’t even significant – seemingly, anyway. It wasn’t significant when they said it, and it’s not significant now, as a memory. Yet it stands out, crystal clear – in my mind. So I can’t help but think that it’ll be significant one day. Otherwise why would it still be taking up space on my internal hard drive?
Facial expressions are another big hit in my memory. I always remember the look on my brother’s face when his eyes finally found me waiting for him at the airport, on his return from an entire summer away from home. It had been the first time we had been away from each other for more than a few days. I also remember thinking it would be nice to have some peace and quiet away from my pesky little brother. That was before he left.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile so wide – and hug so tight. I hope he remembers my smile from that moment, too.
Some moments are so incredibly vivid and colourful that it’s hard to believe that they’ve been coded in the same manner as all other memories. Most of them weren’t even moments that I was conscious of storing uniquely, as they happened – I didn’t say to myself “must store under the ‘this is special’ folder.” They happened just like any other moment, but they’re recalled so differently.
Is this ringing a bell?
I think back now, to certain events and experiences that I would have assumed would be recalled for the rest of my life. Things like prom, or my first kiss. Here’s the funny thing. I remember them, sure. But I’m never brought back to those moments. Unless I consciously decide to reflect and remember those events and moments, nothing has ever jogged my memory to bring me back to them. Times that had seemed so significant, aren’t. But the moments that seemed routine, average, or so ‘every-day’ – are ringing my bell… at the sight of an airplane, at the sound of a song, at the most random of reminders.
Maybe the difference is this. In the moments where we’re truly present, when we don’t think of our past and forget about planning our next move, when we’re lost to the world around us, when we’re completely drenched in, surrounded by, and full of the feeling of the moment – is when our mind photographs, paints and transcribes the moment into a vivid snapshot. It’s when we’re truly present to the smells, sounds and sensations of that moment that we’ll remember them forever.
It’s not about committing something to memory because it’s an “important” event. It’s not about squeezing your eyes shut, trying your hardest to remember everything about something that once happened. In looking through my own vivid snapshots, I’ve realized that those were the moments of importance. The moment when my dad danced along to Thunderstruck to make me laugh was a moment of importance, not when he brought me flowers to my graduation. That memory of that moment with my dad is nineteen years old now and it still pulls at my heart strings every time I hear that song. Ask me what colour the flowers were. Pfft. Yeah right.
An exercise in standing still:
When something jogs my memory, I stand still, and pay attention. Something about that memory is significant. And if it’s not clear just yet, I’m patient with it. It will be clear, soon. And when I find myself smack dab in the middle of an incredible moment, I stand still. I don’t attempt to cram everything into my memory – I don’t waste time frantically searching for the ‘this is special folder.’ Instead I stand still and soak it in.
[i] And no, I’m not talking about déjà vu. Déjà vu is just eerie when it happens – it comes out of nowhere and disappears just as quickly as it came. If you’re ever bored, look it up – the research is quite fascinating. That and you’ll have something interesting to contribute next time you hear someone say “I just had déjà vu!” You’re welcome.
Seeing eye to eye 