Remembering by Heart: Memory: It’s a Mystery to Me

Facebook reminded me of a post from a year agon Tuesday morning. It was during that late spring heatwave. Do you remember last years glorious summer. The message read “Enjoyed choir singing from Alty town hall earlier. I cheered bravo and offered a round of applause when they finished”. Molly and me and been enjoying a walk on that glorious evening. I had one or two worries and singing lifted me beyond them. Rose the choir leader responded to my post. She knew me from attending a few services at Dunham Road. She invited me to join the choir and I did. It has been quite a year. Last Monday night, one day short of that anniversary, we sang at the Bowdon Rooms. It was a wonderful evening. I am so glad I took that walk a year ago. The last year has reawakened a part of my heart and soul that needed reviving. What was even earlier is that the evening before I recounted that story to a member of the choir who asked me what had brought me there.

It was my first concert with choir as I had missed the Christmas one due to a medical procedure I had last year. I was a little nervous about remembering all the words of the songs. In the end I did ok. I had no trouble with the harmonies etc they were lodged in a deeper part of me, they were learnt by heart. The lyrics I probably got about 90% right in the end. Several of us were talking about our various struggles with memory and remembering. I often make up my own lyrics as I sing along to songs, it is the same with hymns too. One of the other basses only has to read the lyrics once and they are stored in his mind. I have noticed though that at times his harmonies are less accurate at times. I have other friends who have similar memories, almost photographic memories. I have one friend who tells me that they have compartments in their mind where they can store things that are important. This utterly baffles me. I am not aware of what I know unless stimulated. It’s stored somewhere in me, but only comes to life when necessary. It seems I am unaware of what I know. As I was talking about this I remembered a history exam from school. I would have been about 14. I got an incredible mark, completely out of line, with my work throughout the year. The reason was that I wrote an essay based on a radio play I had listened to in class. It seems almost every detail had stayed in me. I had learnt it by heart without being aware I was doing so. When I recalled it, it came to life once again. This tells me something about how I take in life and also how I remember. Many people are not like this. The wonder and beauty of diversity is that it is far deeper and broader than any of us realise. People operate in so many different ways. As I spoke of last week while we do not think alike we can love alike. This is to be beautifully celebrated.

The longer I share my life with Molly I am fascinated by how she takes in the world. This of course impacts on how she remembers. How she is with me in the company of others and is fascinating. She understand far more than I give her credit for. Last Sunday being an example as she travelled with me as I led service with three congregations. At the extra service at Rivington she was up and about before hand taking in as much fuss as possible. Then as the service began she got into her bed in the middle of the chapel and went to sleep. Then as the service was ended she knew and got up as I said my words of blessing after the final hymn. How does she know, she just does.

Now of course Molly operates from different primary senses than I do. It is not that humans don’t use them, it is just that other senses have greater prominence. She remembers no doubt in different ways too. Her ears and her nose are clearly prominent.

I was out walking with Molly on Tuesday thinking about memory. I was thinking all the different ways that memory calls us back, comes alive in us. Obviously, smell is significant in a dog, but also in people. I have been transported to times in my life by smell. I remember once being transported to my dad’s butchers shop by a smell in Dunham Massey. I felt like Mr Ben being transported to another time and place by my olfactory nerve. Music has a similar impact too. Music can take me to times and places in my life. Maybe I’m more dog than human. Who knows.

I love the way that memory takes us back it impacts oh so powerfully on the present and can feed the people we are today. There is a deep richness in it, that should not be lost. Yes, of course we should never live in the past, but we cannot nor should we close the door upon it. I find something deeply holy in such memory.

For me memory is more than just what lives within my mind, my head. Some are stored in deeper places. Yes, my mind brings them into being, helps me communicate these experiences, but there seems to be more going on. They change and take shape in the present experiences too, they have a life of their own which is more than the moment they were experienced within. They are more than my own too. My memories are not mine alone. I love what John Donne had to say on this, it speaks to my soul:

"My memory theatre is a theatre of all things as they exist in the soul. I find them all there in the shapes of my longing, the successive shapes that heart's desire has taken in my life. There are the stories I heard and loved as a child listening to my grandfather on our front porch on summer evenings, and there are those I learned afterwards, reading by myself. There are the songs I heard my mother play on the piano and those I learned to play myself, improvising and learning to read music. And there are the drawings I saw my father make and those I learned to make myself with pencil and ink and watercolor."

Now of course as we share our memories as we recall events and paint pictures and telling stories they take shape and meaning. I wonder sometimes when I tell my stories if I am actually truly remembering the event or just telling the story I told last time. Certainly I don’t see pictures like my brother or some friends would, but I do feel the memory. I re-feel what happened, it comes alive in me, but I don’t clearly see a picture. It’s why in classroom settings images and or grafts can make things more confusing for me, rather than being helpful. That said for others these things are vital. People can be oh so different.

Memory is a mysterious thing and how we remember just as much. Some folk seem to suggest that they have some level of control over this. That is not me, like so much in life it is an ungovernable beast. My memories have formed and reformed over the years and if I have learnt anything from life how I remember says as much about the state of my heart in this current time as space as what actually happened. Gabriel Garcia Marquez put this so beautifully when immortalising the memory of his own life. These memories, these stories we share about ourselves tend to be how we wish to seen in this life, it shapes our sense of self. The truth is though that our lives are largely shaped by the small unremembered moments of life, that which makes up the majority of our life experiences. The stuff that is not stimulated by the senses of the present moment. This is true also for collective memory and amnesia, which is powerfully influenced by current experiences.

Memory is a mysterious thing. It is incredible how we can remember with absolute clarity events from early childhood, while the whole of the previous week is not there. I was asked by a friend the other day, what I had been up to recently. I couldn’t recall anything in the moment that they asked and yet as time went by and the conversation developed I shared with them lots of things I had been up to and how I felt in the moment. It took the stimulation of conversation to being the memory to life. The truth is that most of the time there is nothing going on in my mind. This something I chuckle at whenever I look at Facebook, as this is the question it asks. I sometimes sing back to it “There’s absolutely nothing on my mind”. Until it asks the question, there truly isn’t.

A memory came back to me the other day as I shared meditation. It comes every so often as I sit with others in silence. It is a feeing of well-being that takes me back to primary school. I would probably be about 8 or 9 years old. A memory of being sat on the floor with my class mates listening to the teacher reading the end of day story. Stories that have stayed with me throughout my life, as have some of the songs we sang. It evokes a lovely warm feeling. I don’t see many images, only a very vague one of the room. I cannot picture the room or the children, but I know we are sitting on the floor, some lying and falling asleep. What is alive in my memory is how I felt, this lovely sense of well-being.

Memory is a mystery to me. It fascinates me how these memories take shape and form and often reshape as time goes by; it amazes me how these memories seemingly re-incarnate as time goes by. In many ways it is memory that brings the moments I am experiencing to life, as it did again the other day.

Now despite this powerful memory if you asked what I was doing last week I wouldn’t be able to immediately recall it. It would come as we engage, but I couldn’t find where it was stored within me, unlike some of my friends I cannot remember how many things I have forgotten this week.

Now of course we all forget things and even more as we get older. And then there is Dementia and its cruellest form Alzheimer’s Disease which attacks the cortex of the brain forming bundles of tangled plaque that inhibit conversation between the neurons; as it takes away a persons identity and history as aspects of their humanity drift away. The longer we live the more likely we are to become one of its victims.

Now while the Alzheimer’s suffer forgets, those who loved them never let them go. Those who shared memories with them hold their love, those feelings are felt in that deeper place that cannot be destroyed time. Love is eternal, it is immortal.

For as Isaiah (49 vv 15-16) said, in the earlier reading:

15 Can a woman forget her nursing child,
or show no compassion for the child of her womb?
Even these may forget,
yet I will not forget you.

16 See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands;
your walls are continually before me.

These words awoke in me the other day at the concert as we said farewell to our choir leader Rose as she goes on maternity leave. The concert was a great send off for her and will stay deep in her memory. She will of course return and we have other leaders who will keep us in order. I was thinking how her life will change forever as she begins her journey of motherhood. How her past memories and their meaning will change and how she experiences life will never be quite the same again. As I thought of my own life and looked at my lifeline on the palm of my hand I felt connected to all those who have touched my life who are part of my lifeline and I thought of those whose lifeline I am and have been a part of. It is an ever widening circle. Such feelings are surely Divine.

Memory is an utter mystery to me, as is much of life. The diversity of all creation is so beautiful, including every single beautiful person. Something I have been feeling more deeply this week. I am so grateful to be a part of this incredible mystery that is life itself,; that I get to share it with the people I do; that I get to experience the sensations of these memories coming to life in my body and spirit, enhancing my experience of life today.

I am grateful to have experienced this the most amazing trip that anyone could wish to be on. Thank you for being a part of it.

I’m going to end with a little bit of Mary Oliver

“When Did It Happen?” by Mary Oliver

When did it happen?
“It was a long time ago.”

Where did it happen?
“It was far away.”

No, tell. Where did it happen?
“In my heart.”

What is your heart doing now?
“Remembering. Remembering!”

Please find below a video devotion based on the material in this "blogspot"

No one is an island

I have just returned from a week at Summer School. It was quite a week away at Great Hucklow with 50 Unitarians and three dog’s. Molly had a wonderful time, a little spoilt perhaps. The subject this year was “Sustainable Living: Changing our ways and saving our world?” With an explanatory quote by Wendell Berry ‘The real work of planet-saving will be small, humble, and humbling, and (insofar as it involves love) pleasing and rewarding. Its jobs will be too many to count, too many to report, too many to be publicly noticed or rewarded, too small to make anyone rich or famous.’

I myself co-led a daily engagement group with Angela Maher titled “No One is an Island”. It was great to work with Angela, I think we complemented each other. We explored the things that sustain us as individuals and how we are connected and interconnected through a myriad of relationships. It was a wonderful group to work with and deeply enriching week. We have some fascinating people within our free religious tradition. I would recommend Summer School to anyone.

You may recall I was struggling a few weeks ago with the loss of a friend. I was carrying so much, it was weighing me down So much so that I wasn’t sure I would be able to lead the group for a whole week. The Saturday night, a week before Summer School began, I emailed the co-ordinator to inform them of my struggles. The next day, after leading worship, I spent time walking and sharing with a friend, the only person I was able to talk openly about the situation with. By Monday I was feeling much better. I had reached out beyond myself and connected. I admitted I couldn’t overcome my struggles alone. I spent time in prayer and meditation and in that place of humility and connection I found the strength, the resilience required to do what I am here to do. It was a truly wonderful week and I feel I have grown and been strengthened by it. As a result I feel better prepared to continue on with my ministry. I suspect though that if I hadn’t found the strength and humility to reach out for help, this may not have been the case. In fact in so doing it actually helped illustrate the subject we explored during the week.

No one pulls themselves up from their bootstraps completely alone, all by themselves. From the moment of our birth’s others are involved in creating who we are and who we become. As the old saying goes “It takes a village to raise a child.” No one lives entirely from themselves we are all a part of an interdependent web of relationships that are made of both visible and invisible helping hand. Life has once more taught me that asking for help is actually a sign of both strength and wisdom, rather than weakness. It is a sign of good, mental, emotional and spiritual health. Of course it is not enough to merely ask for help, true healthy humility is about accepting what is offered. We give to others when we allow them to give to us. Those numerous free meals we are given do not only feed us, they feed all. We eat and we are filled by the relationship. Maybe this is what is meant by the old clichéd saying, “there is no such thing as a free meal.” It isn’t true of course, sadly it is a cynical cliché that suggests that you shouldn’t trust generosity. Please don’t fall for it, give and receive abundantly so we can all eat and be filled. If you do it with joy, joy will be your reward. In fact if truth be told both those feeding and those being fed receive from the relationship. This is the strange arithmetic of giving, where the commodity increases the more we give it away. When we give from the heart, love grows and abundantly for all, giver, receiver and all who come into contact with them. This is the butterfly effect of love. No one is an island, everything is interconnected.

So to repeat the subject we explored was “No one is an island”. Here is the poem that inspired our week. “No Man is an Island” by John Donne

“No Man Is an Island” by John Donne

No man is an island,
Entire of itself;
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less,
As well as if a promontory were:
As well as if a manor of thy friend's
Or of thine own were.

Any man's death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind.
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.

John Donne, who wrote these words, lived from 1572 until 1631, deeply turbulent times in British history. He lived through many lives. He trained as a lawyer and became both an adventurer and a soldier. He grew up in a devoutly Catholic family which became illegal under the reign of Elizabeth I. He became a Protestant and was ordained at the age of 43 as an Anglican priest. Six years later he was appointed Dean of St Paul’s Cathedral, the original one, that was burnt during the “Great Fire of London” of 1666. It was while he was Dean of St Paul’s that he wrote “No Man is an Island”. Earlier in his life he had written powerful love poems. He had an ability to express ideas that spoke to people in a none judgemental way. No doubt the death of his brother Henry from the plague whilst in prison and the torture and murder of a priest that his brother sheltered no doubt got the bells tolling for Donne. “No Man is an Island” speaks of a common humanity that transcend religious systems or anything that would separate us. A message powerfully relevant back then and today. We may not go to war over whether we boy to the Roman Church or the Church of England, but still we divide ourselves and still we persecute those considered to be the “other”. “What you do to the least of them, you do to me.”

No one is an island, no one lives completely from themselves, what affects one affects all. No one lives wholly from themselves, without care for another. We live interdependent lives. That said there is a danger here of relying on others in an unhealthy way. While absolute self-reliance is a delusion, there is another problem with depending unhealthily on others. This is especially true when it comes to matters of faith. We must never comply without reason. I do believe that the seat of authority in matters of faith must always lie in the heart of each of our consciences, something that could lead to torture and murder in Donne’s time. As we explored in our engagement group it is vital that we take care of our thread in order to play our role fully in the inter-connected web of life.

There is a place for self-reliance, at least in the sense that Ralph Waldo Emerson discussed it. To live fully in this world it is vital to listen to wisdom of the wise when they speak, to learn from to others, to learn in community. That said it is just as vital to trust in your own inner voice and to speak your truth for others.

Ralph Waldo Emerson in his essay “Self-Reliance”, published in 1841 wrote:

“To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men, — that is genius. Speak your latent conviction, and it shall be the universal sense; for the inmost in due time becomes the outmost.”

What concerned Emerson was the ease in which people accepted the judgments and opinions of others as objective truth while dismissing their own. This seems to speak powerfully to us who live today in this our 24hour multi-media world where we are bombarded with all kinds of truth. It amazes and troubles me how easily people follow the opinions of so called “Social influences” and figures on line. It is vital that we learn to trust our own heart and soul, whilst at the same time not living entirely from ourselves. We need to take care of our thread and interweave it with others. That said it is our own personal responsibility to discern what is true and not blindly follow and become unhealthily dependent on others.

Self-reliance, as it is understood today is not at all what Emerson was speaking of. Of course we have to learn to trust are own reasoning mind, this though does not mean that we live entirely separate lives. All gain when we come together in the spirit of love, we learn together and strengthen one another. The strength is in the relationship. Yes, we need to be responsible for who we are and the key to that is to build strong and healthy relationships. This is the key to sustainable living and it will guide and hold us through the storms of life when they come. There will be times when we will need help and there will be times when we need to be available to help one another. This to me is the whole point of spiritual community, to strengthen these ties so that we help one another when the time comes. Not in unhealthy co-dependent ways, but healthy interdependent ones.

Early in the week of our engagement group we talked about how vital it was to take care of our individual strings to guide us through the mazes of life, but also the storms too. At the end of the week we shared in a wonderful exercise that involved a ball of wool that we passed amongst ourselves, creating a web that moved between us all. The strings connected us together. When one was pulled it vibrated and several folk felt the vibration. The strings did not live wholly from themselves and they connected the ties between us without binding us down. That said we were all responsible for taking care of our string.

From the cradle to the grave we need to keep asking for help, when we need it and we need to make ourselves available to be of assistance to others in their need. This is not to say that we become unhealthily dependent on others and society as a whole, no not at all. We are though a part of a whole, a complex whole that makes life and community. As we grow and change and become the people that we are this changes shape and reforms constantly, it seems that we are being born again and again to new versions of ourselves. Of course we cannot do this alone. We cannot give birth to ourselves, no one can. We need help and sometimes we need to ask for help from others and in so doing we are of course doing not only a service for ourselves, but for them also. I experienced this again just a couple of weeks ago and it began to reform once again during that week away in summer school, in spiritual community with 50 other like hearted people and three dogs. People who were responsible for coming to their own terms in regards to matters of faith, but who gained so much from one another, by coming together and sharing in the spirit of love. Not one of us was an island in and of themselves. We loved and cared for one another, made space to become. When the bell tolled, it tolled for each and everyone one of us. Oh by the way we also had an awful lot of fun doing so. We sang and danced together, we told stories and jokes, we walked in the beautiful countryside and we ate together and were certainly filled. I am sure all were blessed by this time together.

No one is an island. We are communal beings entirely inter-dependent on each other and life itself. As Martin Luther King said in his final Christmas sermon “We are interdependent…all life is interrelated. We are all caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied into a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” This has never been more true than today. When someone reaches out in a time of need it is our God given duty to help and when we need help we need to be faithful to ask for help too. Interdependence is a physical fact, but it is also a spiritual reality.

This to me is the whole point of spiritual community, of religious living. To see, understand and experience this oneness, this Divine Unity. To see that we are all one. To be of help to one another and to seek the help when it is needed. In this way we all grow and become the best that we can be and serve life to the utmost of our ability.

I will be carrying these thoughts and no doubt be nourished by them as we enter into the autumn together. I have already been asked to come back to “Summer School” next year, as has Molly. The subject is going to be “Finding My Religion”. It has been suggested I might have something interesting to say on the subject.

I think they might be right.

I will end this morning with following meditation “The Web of Life” by Robert T Weston. I would like you to listen to this words prayerfully. Therefore I ask you still yourselves in silence…let us pray…

"The Web of Life"

There is a living web that runs through us
To all the universe
Linking us each with each and through all life
On to the distant stars.
Each knows a ­little corner of the world, and lives
As if this were his all.
We no more see the farther reaches of the threads
Than we see of the future, yet they’re there.
Touch but one thread, no matter which;
The thoughtful eye may trace to distant lands
Its firm continuing strand, yet lose its filaments as they reach out,
But find at last it coming back to him from whom it led.
We move as in a fog, aware of self
But only dimly conscious of the rest
As they are close to us in sight or feeling.
New objects loom up for a time, fade in and out;
Then, sometimes, as we look on unawares, the fog lifts
And there’s the web in shimmering beauty,
Reaching past all horizons. We catch our breath;
Stretch out our eager hands, and then
In comes the fog again, and we go on,
Feeling a ­little foolish, doubting what we had seen.
The hands were right. The web is real.
Our folly is that we so soon forget.

By Robert T Weston

Please find below a devotion based on the material in this "blogspot"