Remembrance of Things Past

I get asked a lot of difficult questions. I answer some of them, even though I always say none of my answers are true. They are just the programming. Like asking Siri on your iphone. Some ask how they can get enlightened. Some ask how I got enlightened. Some ask if I am enlightened. Some ask why I think I am enlightened when they are enlightened and it is clear I am not. Some ask if I want them to enlighten me and begin to explain how they will do this. Those are all fun, as they are so fundamentally unanswerable it’s like being in college again staying up all night with nerd friends pondering the nature of the Universe and the meaning of life.

 

Sometimes people ask a question so mind-blowing I have to turn off the computer and go outside for a walk. A question that is so enormous it defies imagination. They ask me, so, Miranda, what did you do yesterday?

 

Wow. Yesterday! First, I think it must be a trick question, but they are serious. They even tell me what they “did” yesterday, which I think is a form of entrapment. What did I do yesterday? How would I know?

 

Memories can pop up. Sometimes they just arise and other times they seem like they are called up by other words, like this question. But what are memories? Images and emotions tied to a label called “the past.” And where is this past? Where are these memories? Inside the brain, but that is a thought attached to another label called “knowing.” Outside of images in my mind, there is no past to be found, no future, not even a now. There is not even a me to have memories, but we’ll hold off on that for now.

 

Someone asked me for a happy memory. My brain retrieved a file and it was one moment with my Mother taking me to see a ballet performance and going backstage afterwards. This one is fairly vivid, but it is a series of impressions, some moving like video, some like still images, mixed with some thoughts and emotions. I can remember going to and from the event, even that we had an argument on the way, but can I recall what I did the night before or the next day? No. In that sense the memory seems isolated, like remembering a dream.

 

Cut to another “memory.” This one you would call a nighttime dream. In this dream, I went to a huge benefit in London, to encourage world peace, and major rock bands were playing with lesser known groups. One of my friends was in a lesser known band and I went to support him. I can right now vividly recall going from my flat (not the flat I lived in during my so-called “real” life in London) to the great hall. The venue and stage is very clear in my mind, photographic realism. I remember the awesome buffet table. I found my friend in a booth and he said he was meeting Sting, the rock star. Sting approached and I briefly chatted with him before my friend surreptitiously signaled I should go. I remember being a little offended and then thinking of something to say to Sting to get him to be more interested in my friend’s music. Then I walked away thinking how clever I had been. I went back to the buffet, thinking of where I’d sit to watch the show.

 

Point is, in the dream I had a definite past and future. I even had cognitive activity. There is no part of this memory that is any less vivid, emotionally or visually, in my mind than going to the ballet with my Mum. Is this a memory? Is that a memory?

 

I can also recall a scene in a favorite TV show where a beloved character dies. I can describe it in great detail; I can see it in my mind, even though “I” am not in it. Emotionally, it is more powerful than many memories of my so-called life. It makes me cry.

 

In the memory of a recent past I met a young woman, daughter of the couple that does work at the retreat where I live
and brings me provisions. Seeing her (right “now” in my mind only), the feeling of love and awe I had was no different than if I saw my own brother or Mum. It is the same with anyone. I feel intimate love, yet impersonal as it has nothing to do with who they say they are. Strangers and family, all the same. Miracles. And yet they are no more or less real in my “memory” right now than the fictional TV character, the dream Sting, the ballerina I met backstage, or my Mum.

 

What is real? Where is the past? What is a memory?

 

If the part of the brain making labels for everything---"fiction,” “real life,” “dream,” stopped labeling, how would I know? And if I "know" only by my brain making labels, how do I know the labels are true? If it all exists inside my brain, what is not a hallucination? Where is anything? Where is what is? When is right now? Where is the future where I will or will not be? Where is the past where I did or did not do?

 

Where is…

Why is…

What is…

Who is…

???? 

 

So, tell me...what did you do yesterday, my beloveds?