Memory Paradox

What are memories? Will they really haunt me at the time of death? Who is that person who used to do those stupid things? If that person has grown up and become wiser over the years, then who is the person in the memories, still doing stupid and silly things?

We know nothing inside a memory can harm us, but watching an event unfold, powerless to change it does leave scars.

We also know our memory is selective. Five people can witness an event and you get five different versions of the event, and later, five different stories. Why are certain details vivid while others are bland? Why are there holes where, even if you try very hard, you can’t remember certain details or even whole units of an event?

Furthermore, we can use our imagination to make-up memories that become real in our history. We can change memories and change history. But, what is the purpose of changing our memories? Are we changing ourselves or lying to ourselves?

Meanwhile, if I am an eternal soul that has always existed and will always exist, why do my memories start at around 1964?

The Beatles made a big impression

Far Reaching Thoughts . . .

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Death is Coming

I don’t remember all my New Year’s resolutions for 2016. There were 3 or 4, most taken care of by early spring. The one that kept nagging me, the one I didn’t do until June or July was ‘to start a blog.’ I had a real good excuse of course: my computer died in April. I finally set up my blog using my phone. But guess what? This is my first blog post. New Year’s Eve, the last day of the year and I have not only set up my blog but have posted once!

I have some resolutions

for next year. Go to dance class, go to hatha yoga class, take some online blogging classes, and write in my blog once a week. Due by Saturday at the latest, and since I haven’t replaced my computer yet, I’ll be doing it by phone.

Now, about today’s post title: Death is Coming. It’s something we tend to ignore, something unpleasant that we don’t have time for.Last year, 2016, was all about death. After my laptop computer died in April, one of our ginny-pigs, Bindi, left her body in June. Then in July, Cranberries left us with an empty rabbit hutch. In September we turned it into a bird cage because my daughter rescued a homing pigeon that went South, literally. Then in October, our beautiful Golden Retriever-Dashound mix left her diseased body behind. Just yesterday we buried our beloved, longtime companion cow, Dhanya (DUN ya). Dhanya was a big,beautiful, black and white Holstein cow. She gave 10 gallons of milk a day for 5 years from only one calf. We had so much milk, fresh cheese, yogurt, and ice cream, sour cream, clotted cream, and fresh warm milk, cold milk, and yummy hot milk. She gave so much.

We took care of her to the very end just as if our mother was dying. When she went down and could no longer walk or even sit up, we put her on soft bedding and rolled her over every day. We propped her head on a pillow and fed her by hand. We covered her up and kept her clean. We sat with her, comforted her, sang to her. We loved her. I still love her, yet she’s gone. She left. She went with Death out of her body to God-knows-where.

Far Reaching Thoughts