Memory is a story we tell ourselves.

At the Scott Silvan show, he talked about memory - how we create a truth that we can live with. I found his show fascinating as he kept leading us to his childhood memory that we realise at the end of the show is very different to what we first see.

This article points out that memory isn't a recording device, but a reconstruction.

I've had two recent examples of this, which have made me question my memories. Neither important moments or tainted with complex emotion.

One was at the 1996 Melbourne grand prix. Martin Brundle had a massive crash (an airborne barrel roll) yet managed to run back to the spare car in time and restart the race. We were all cheering and yelling as he ran past, watching the clock and hoping he'd make it to the pits in time. I'd been telling this story for years as it was such an exciting and elating moment. I looked up the footage and discovered he'd not run past our stand. He'd been driven in the safety car to the pitlane and run back from there to the garage. So my memory of him running past us, I realise, we watched on the screen. We all stood and yelled and cheered him on, but on the screen.

I was so surprised when I saw the footage. I still see 'how I remember it' but I know it's wrong.

The other more recent example is about a shared memory where 5 of us remembered it differently. Our Champagne club has been on many lunches and dinners out. After one, we went to a bar in Darling Square where we talked about the robots we could see in XOPP. Fast forward five or so years and we finally went to dinner at XOPP because of the robots. We were discussing the day we were at the bar, and all of us remembered it being after lunch at a different restaurant (except me who wondered why were were even there - I knew it had to be after a lunch but couldn't think of any in the area that made logical sense). One person was right. Most of us didn't even remember going to that restaurant with the group. Some were adamant their incorrect memory was correct. I was astounded that the five of us were at the same event and all five of us remembered in completely differently (all good, happy memories, just the facts were muddled).

It made me realise how fluid our memories are. If these can be so mixed up without any strong emotion or importance attached, imagine what resentment, anger or hurt can do to them? Not to mention the different recall with multiple people bringing their experience and feelings to the 'memory'?

Have you discovered some of your memories weren't as they seemed?

The beautiful reflection pictures are from the new exhibition at White Rabbit. It's free and worth checking out. You can also grab dumplings at the tea house for lunch.

Other posts on Memory: 

“Remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were.” ― Marcel Proust

Enjoy the moment for what it is

Do not trust your memory; it is a net full of holes; the most beautiful prizes slip through it. Georges Duhamel

No two children have the same parents.

And even a short fiction here.

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