Memory

I imagine I am moving forward in time, repeating certain activities and experiences. But I am not moving anywhere. I am fixed right here at the place and the now that never changes. But there is no place nor is there a time where I am. So I am not here and now so much as I am nowhere and everywhere at no times and all times.

It is only the sensation through the window which is changing. I am fixed, unmoving, unchanging. I am always the same. I am trapped in cycles of varying size and frequency that I experience as coordinated emanations. I never move, yet these bursts of emanation make it feel as if I am. As if things are changing. 

I imagine that my present is the consequence of all the completed events trailing behind me into the past. I imagine that all the people from my imagined past are still roaming around this planet we share, experiencing existence the same as me. But if I cannot experience it, then it is inessential; a potentiality, and nothing more. The family I “remember” are potentialities I can manifest and demanifest as simply as I sit up or sit down. If I want those thirdself forms, I can manifest them. If I do not, then I will not.

There is no repository of “completed” events embedded in the genetic code of the world. There are no historical events. There is only this moment of now. And those thirdself forms I was connected to are like toys I was once attached to. Toys I outgrew and no longer wanted. Childhood friends I once cherished, but who I outgrew and am content to never see again. I toss them away, forget about them until I remember, and they reappear again. Their absence from my moment is the basis of the distortion I call “memory”.

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