Memories

One of my favorite ways a memory comes to me is when a specific object always reminds me of someone I’ve met or an experience that I’ve had. Like Proust’s madeleine, it could be a cup of hibiscus tea or a copy of Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet. That object is inextricably linked to an encounter or a time. Whenever I drink hibiscus tea, I think of my host in Oregon. Or whenever I see Letters to a Young Poet, I think of my walk to the hiking trails in the mountains of Colorado. 

We often hear that our memories are in ourselves and not in things. What this way of remembering reminds me is that even if physical objects are somehow tied to our memory, it does not need to be anything that we own. The world gives us things to enjoy that can be enjoyed many times. Those things can become personal to us when we associate them with an experience that is personal. Then every time we encounter them, we relive our pleasant memories, we feel light, grateful, and joyful for a moment, and then we can go on with our day without being encumbered, but feeling a tiny bit warmer than when we began.