There is something curious with our past. On the one hand, we do have a factual past, where all the things we have ever done are true. The other past we have is the one that we remember, and to be more specific: the one we remember on the exact moment we do the “remembering”. The reason why I specify the memory of your past at a specific time, is because it changes over time when you, for example, get confronted with contradicting facts or because you slowly and physically deteriorate.
The thing with your factual, point to point past, the one that really happened is kind of mysterious. You can imagine that there is such a…thing, but also not. It’s just strange, you know it all happened but there is also no one (thing) that knows it, or has recorded it.
An example can be when you move your hand upwards in front of your eyes. You know it happened, you saw it with your own eyes just a few seconds ago, but there is also no way for you to exactly describe the trajectory your hand made, it’s remembered past. You may get close, but the exact trajectory is lost forever. Where is that exact trajectory? I guess it’s gone forever, just like your past.
So you have a past, your real one is gone forever, but the one that is important, is the one that you remember, and…constructed, probably for the most part unconsciously and/or passive.
The inspiration for today was from Day 1312. The poem touches on what I have written above, but also goes further by pointing out that our past is made more colorful in the act of remembering, and this coloring will be projected into the future when we envision, and tell our plans.