Thinking through memory was not very wise, not only because anything i recaptured would be not the original memory but a constructed memory but also because the immediacy of the experience i then experienced, overladen by temporal embellishments and reconfigurations, would lose its poignancy . By no means did i feel that the remembrance would be dessicated but the intervening gap would have clarified the obscure, illuminated the penumbral blurrings and revealed a certain element of the subterranean, now conscious.
In the meantime it is disconcerting to think about the ways in which the experience, which became a subsequent memory, made indentations in me unconsciously. What slips, ellipses, parentheses would have laid bare, to any discerning observer, the lineaments of the imperceptible forces of my consciousness. Thus there would be the memory, revealing its impact on me through my behavioural depredations ,as yet undiscerned by me but subsequently dappling my consciousness, retroactively, with both a recollection of the original experience and the configurations hindsight would inveigle. In a way this renders time fluid because temporalities intersect and overlap.While an ostensible breach, which the interrugnum signifies, indicates time past and time present in actuality they have coalesced wherein time present is immanent in time past and time past a manifestation through time present.
Is the nature of recollection always a construction? Is it not possible, hypothetically, that though each contingent recollection transforms context certain bare bones of the original memory still remain unaltered. The fact that though additions, elisions, superimpositions, disavowals are ineluctable they still testify, despite their tenuousness and ephemerality to a certain authenticity of what actually supervened. That even within the indwelling nature of apocryphal incertitude there is still a certainty. The question of essence, of being. Undoubtedly given the precariousness of memory the original experience would be an amorphous conglomeration of variegated permutations, reshuffled contingently yet randomly. But still, the question arises as to whether underlying these nebulosities there is a certain undifferentiated and veracious aspect of consciousness. I suppose my query is as to whether, despite the dubiousness of memory there might still be something unassailably , inalienably genuine.
And the more i ponder this the more i am convinced that an undercurrent of truthfulness underlies memory. Of necessity, this truthfulness is a fluid truthfulness and its constituents undergo continual metamorphoses but still, the integument is constant. And that perhaps is the protean nature of experience and memory, its unclassifiability, its appropriability, its attendant debasements and transmogrifications. Is it not then, in a way liberating that there is this elastic experience, entombed as memory, sometimes unknown, sometimes visible which, by retaining its polychromatic profusion gives a new way of looking at, interpreting and understanding memory. Therefore, perhaps, memory in itself is evanescent and transitory yet durable and persistent.
Ultimately the being, the palimpsest on which becoming occurs amalgamate and interleave harmoniously and kinetically. Being is becoming, becoming is being as far as memory is concerned. So the question of realiability and unreliability is superseded,in my mind, with the association of what experience is and how we experience it, what is real and how real do we see it as or make it to be, what is essence and what is existence. By blurring these categorisations memory becomes and demonstrates the irrefutability of its provisionality and the authentication within its indeterminacy. Thus it becomes a mnemonic of life itself.