Tag: memories

MEMORY MAKING (AND FAKING)

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Imagine you could go on a holiday, but once it was over, you had to erase any evidence that it ever occurred and your mind was wiped clean of any recollection of it happening. How much would you pay for such a holiday? Would you even bother going at all?
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We spend a great deal of our lives tending to the making of memories. They feel intrinsic to who we are, and an accurate record of our past experiences. But often these memories are far from accurate and often cultivated at the expense of our experiencing self – the self who would’ve likely had a damn good holiday.
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The experiencing self is the one that answers the question “How does it feel now?”, the remembering self is the one that answers the question “How was it, on the whole?” “Memories are all we get to keep from our experiences of living, and the only perspective that we can adopt as we think about our lives is therefore that of the remembering self.”
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Only thing is, that our memories work in strange ways. Not so much remembering things as they actually were but rather fleshed out from a bare few indicators of significant or intense experience – namely the peak and the end. Think back to your last relationship. Chances are, if things ended badly, it’s harder to remember all those happy, content and satisfied feelings you felt together before things went south. Or getting a tattoo – it might not have hurt too badly the whole time, but you’ll remember the worst of the pain and that’s what you’ll take away from it.
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Our remembering self is important because it allows us to learn and grow from past experiences. But it can be unhelpful when we compare present experiences with the memories of old ones, as they can pale by comparison – not due to the fact that the current events are any less significant or meaningful, but rather our remembering self has imbued the past with a reverence not so much earned by the events themselves but by the constant re-remembering of them. So the good times are remembered as amazing times and the bad times are often remembered as being much worse than they were.
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A lesson to be learned here is to have a healthy skepticism of our memories, and not to disregard the experiencing self as transitory and insignificant. Spend time cultivating mindfulness and try and be present in the moment as it occurs. It’s a challenge, especially in our current society where a moment can be captured so easily by an iPhone, with a selfie stick, or when you (me) have just bought a new SLR camera.
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“The photographer does not view the scene as a moment to be avoided but as a future memory to be designed. Pictures may be useful to the remembering self – though we rarely look at them for very long, or as often as we expected, or even at all – but picture taking is not necessarily the best way for the tourist’s experiencing self to enjoy a view. ”
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Ol’ Johnny was spot on…
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Quotes taken from Daniel Kahneman’s Thinking Fast & Slow (Pages 381 & 389)

FLYING SOLO

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Travelling alone is something everyone is encouraged to do – at least once in our lives. We are constantly bombarded by motivational Pinterest quotes or Tumblr posts to “wake up in cities you don’t know and have conversations in languages you cannot entirely understand” but travelling alone is fraught with challenges, some that I feel we are reluctant to address on account of us being concerned about giving the impression that our solitary adventures were all completely substantial and enriching. Not to mention we’re so eager to seize these formative, international experiences for all they’re worth that we’re filled with a striking anxiety that the whole time we’ve been wasting our time at the wrong places, doing the wrong things, with no one.
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I like understanding things. And understanding is more challenging in new environments. The difficulty is only highlighted when one travels alone because we are forced to work things out on our own. Basic things, that are usually automatic back at home, like knowing what food you’ve ordered or getting around on public transport, suddenly become complicated and fraught with error.  I had a brief heart attack when 20min after leaving a bar I realised I had walked out and not paid for any of my drinks, and almost crawled up into a ball when I ordered food from the deli and had no idea when or where I was supposed to pay for it.
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Loneliness is also more pervasive as connectivity to your usual circles is dependent on wifi availability, and any stranger who talks to you is viewed cautiously, either out for something, or keen to prattle endlessly at you about some vague understanding they have of your “foreign” culture. I’m often keen to call up a friend to come meet me at a place where a great band is playing or invite my sisters out to try this amazing French toast I discovered, but they are all sadly unavailable to traverse the globe at my instant behest to check out a cool gig or try a well-seasoned breakfast.
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(Please don’t get the impression I’m lamenting my privilege of having the time and financial freedom to take an indulgent vacation. I’m merely examining what it is to do it alone and perhaps realign expectation with – at least, my – reality.)
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My partner and I often discuss the validity of experiences and memories that aren’t shared with anyone else, or people we will probably never see again. Sometimes tiny moments dissolve and are quickly buried in the trifling detritus of everyday life. This makes me worried that the memories are lost forever; evaporated in the ether, transparent and essentially worthless. But my boyfriend insists they are somehow silently etched into your identity, informing your character and being every bit as essential to enriching your future self as the fondness of an unforgettable memory.
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Almost ten years ago, in a hostel in Hiroshima, my friends and I traded some cheap vodka for internet usage from a young, French backpacker. Next month, one of my friends is marrying that backpacker.
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So sometimes those moments we thought were meaningless, turn out to be the ones to shape our lives forever.