Would Life Be Easier Without Remembering?
Memory is an essential component of how we identify with our lives. Without it, we would lose much of our personal identity and our capacity to navigate the world effectively. Memory is also critical in our development as humans, particularly in forming mental strategies for protection. As we evolved, we traded physical defenses—fangs, venom, scales, and talons—for enhanced cognitive abilities, including an increased capacity for memory.
This enhancement of memory served our defensive systems well, allowing us to predict future events based on past experience. Early mammals developed the ability to remember dangerous or painful situations in order to avoid them in the future. Humans evolved to build on this by not only remembering danger but also transferring knowledge from one situation to another, improving our ability to evade risks.
Memory, therefore, serves an important survival purpose. Yet, it also encumbers and complicates our moment-to-moment perception of reality. Much of what various meditative disciplines seek to achieve is clarity of mind—the idea of direct perception or a non-dual experience where there is no separation between the perceiver and the perceived.
In a dualistic experience, we are distanced from direct perception. Our minds filter everything we see, hear, feel, taste, touch and think —through the lens of memory. This process involves not only concepts of belief but also adjacent ideas and internal impulses that may have little relevance to the actual experience. Memory is an imperfect and shambolic system, that often clouds our clarity of mind.
If we could jettison memory, we might achieve a more direct perception of reality and a state of greater clarity. However, this would also mean losing the sophisticated context that helps us understand what we are perceiving. This raises an important question: How can we retain the useful aspects of memory without allowing it to weigh us down and dull our perceptions?
While some aspects of memory enhance perception, they can also lead to mental complication, keeping us weighted down.
Emotional Attachment and Memory
Emotional attachment to memory, in particular, often leads to confusion in our perception. Memory, while useful for survival and learning, can also project us into the future, often in negative ways. Many of us overuse the ability to foresee future outcomes, living in states of paranoia and expecting the worst in any situation. Being stuck in either the past or the future keeps us from effectively connecting to the present moment.
But what would life be like without emotional attachment to memory? Many cultural narratives emphasize memory—advertisements encourage us to live our lives “creating memories,” as though memories were material commodities. But is this really how we want to live? Using our present experiences merely as fodder for future recollection robs us of both the present and the future. We sit idly, turning the pages of memory, rather than engaging with life as it unfolds.
Meditation and the Importance of Recognition
In meditation practice, recognizing our distraction is of utmost importance. It is unnecessary to berate ourselves for not being present. When we are distracted, we are given the opportunity to recognize that and return to the present moment. This process develops two essential functions of the mind: the ability to recognize an event and the strength to let go of attachment to it, thus returning to the present.
These two seemingly subtle aspects of meditation—recognition and letting go—can transform our lives by distancing us from the emotional baggage attached to past experiences. For example, when you see a rose, you might first recognize its beauty. If it has emotional resonance based on past experience, you might notice that as well. But returning to the present moment without attaching undue significance to the rose because of the past keeps your mind clear and balanced.
Consider a child bitten by a white dog. As the child grows older, they may retain an irrational fear of white dogs, which might even extend to other animals, like white cats or other dogs. The trauma attaches itself to the body, and the memory of that experience continues to cloud perception. While this process is a sophisticated mental development, it is not always helpful.
The key is recognition: recognizing the fear, recognizing the white dog, recognizing the potential irrationality of the fear, and then letting go. Each step brings us closer to direct perception—closer to what is actually happening now, free from the distorting influence of past trauma.
Loosening Emotional Attachment
For meditators, difficult choices must be made. We must ask ourselves whether we are truly living in the present moment or if we are stuck in a cocoon of past experiences that cloud our perception and unconsciously motivate our actions. While emotional connection to life is important, it is equally important to let go of the attachments that pull us away from the present moment.
No matter how beautiful or profound a moment is, our experience of life is temporary. Loosening our attachment is essential. One way to do this is to reduce our tendency to assign significance to everything. For instance, we may adopt beliefs such as “this is God’s plan” or “this must mean something important,” adding layers of meaning where they may not be necessary.
I recall once being nervous for an audition and, in a state of fear, finding a feather on the ground. I kept the feather and subsequently passed the audition. Afterward, I began seeing feathers before other important moments, believing they were signs of good luck. However, a friend eventually pointed out that they were pigeon feathers, common all over the sidewalks of New York. In my panic, I had ascribed significance to something entirely mundane.
By loosening this need for meaning, we can move through life with greater clarity and freedom. We no longer need to grasp for confirmation of our significance in the world. Instead, we gain confidence by recognizing and letting go, allowing us to connect with the present moment fully.
In this way, meditation helps develop a lightness and clarity in our perception and, consequently, in our lives.
In those days, particularly in New York City, baseball inspired a sense of loyalty, camaraderie and courage. In a memory burnished into the hearts of sports lovers forever, Babe Ruth famously pointed to where he intended to hit a home run in a 1932 World Series —and then did just that. This kind of magic requires immense courage, but not aggressive courage. It’s a courage that comes from the heart. The root of the word “courage” is cor, which means “heart” in Latin and has similar meanings in French and Old English. So, to have courage is to have heart. It’s a joyful bravery that arises from deep within us, overcoming doubt and confusion. If Babe Ruth had been uncertain, he wouldn’t have been able to point to that spot with such confidence. Confidence, courage, heart—these are the topics of today’s post.
On a personal level, many of us close down our hearts under a false sense of bravery to focus on issues. We seek approval from others, rallying friends who will uncritically support our views, reinforcing our grievances against those we believe have wronged us. While this may create a temporary swell of approval, it is ultimately hollow and fleeting, leaving us feeling manipulated. This might not feel like aggression; it could feel like passion for a cause. Yet, in such moments, we often fall into the trap of preaching rather than sharing something personal.
In the Dharma Junkies weekly group, we encourage people to speak from an “I” position, expressing how they feel. This approach makes their expressions inviolable, as no one can argue with one’s feelings. We take ownership of our emotions without expecting others to validate them. Equally, we create space for each person to share their own truth, free from argumentation, allowing their truths to resonate with others. This space is a show of respect.
I sadly never got out of my head long enough to let my heart into the equation but maybe it happened at some point. It wasn’t until years later when meditation gave me the courage to allow vulnerability. But, whether it was groping on a high school dance floor, fumbling in the back seat, or sitting on the meditation cushion, the moment of frailty when we “fall” is an important step in our spiritual journey.
What if instead of paying endless lip service to love, we just deeply kiss the world? What if our politics and our nations were organized around faith in the power of love? I guess the process is to conceive it and then believe it and then let that go and simply be it. Thich Nhat Hanh said, “BE love.” Believe it and be it.
Contacting love in our life is possible if we are free of the turmoil that often occupies our mind. Sometimes this happens accidentally, as when something startles us and stops our mind. Sometimes it happens when our mind naturally notices a flower or bird that opens our mind. 
Compassion is natural to all life. But so is danger. Much of life does what it can to sustain itself and focuses its cellular attention on living, growing and providing, serene in its unknowing. Most life is a natural and necessary part of the dance of the planet. But, the greatest danger to the balance of life comes from the only part of the planet that sees itself. The one who’s acidic stomach is gurgling as it watches the rabbit hop merrily into the wooded shadows. The greatest danger lies within. This is as true of ourselves and our societies. This is the greatest danger because it is the one unseen. We are so attuned to the danger around us, we lie in vulnerable ignorance of the aggression we cause ourselves and others. It is the work of compassion practice to help us reprogram the mind to balance the openness of loving moments with the truth of the dangers in life. We do this by de-emphasizing the importance of ourselves to ourselves that is clouding the picture. THis is not to say that we are not important. We are just not as important enough to suck the air out of life. Humans are a little like drunken blowhards going on about their workout routine at a party. SIr Harold Pinter wrote a play called “The Party” in which a group of haute society people revelled in their intrigues and drama while occasionally, we have seemingly inconsequential references to turmoil in the streets. By play’s end it is clear the turmoil is a violent revolution that will end everything they know.
Over 
direction is too loose. Sometimes we rail against the authority of form, and this stops the flow, but it may be necessary to reboot the process or add freshness to a routine. But once we reboot, finding the groove and waking up in the rhythm of life. Navigating between the extremes of too tight and too loose we find the balance point for optimal creativity in life. A dancer needs discipline, but the point of the discipline is to let go into the piece. No one wants to see anyone work. We want to see them dance. We want the fruit of their labor. So, form need never be seen. The hand of the director should never be seen. The dance should feel as natural as the river.
the “Samatha” level of our meditation training. Samatha means peace, or cultivating peace in its active rendering. In Tibetan Buddism it is taught as a 9 stage process of progressive settling. These Tantric systems of Indian and Tibetan Buddhism endeavor to connect mind and body. Progressive settling in to the present is not just “being in the now” in a conceptal sense. But settling into ourselves as the working basis of our path toward full awakening. Yet “path” implies movement. All things, even when apparently still, are in motion. All things are in dynamic interaction with all else. Settling into that movement with unhurried elegance is “entering the stream”.
Awareness of our breathing is the perfect tool for maintaining the meditative flow state. Breathing is the intimate rhythm of our life. It describes a through line of our life from moments after birth to our last moments. Returning to the breath is a way of maintaining our meditative awareness on the cushion, but this process can be effectively carried over into our daily life. We can use awareness of our breathing to relax the nervous system and allow the mind to let go back into a natural flow. Breathing can guide us through turbulent waters. When in doubt, breathe your way through. Allow yourself to settle and then let go. Letting go INTO the flow is not running away from anything. It’s allowing yourself to move past it with minimal engagement. How many issues in life simply do not need the attention we give them. I worked with a shaman who told me my work was not to be anything or to accumulate things, but to learn from everything. Appreciation means not grabbing, but seeing clearly the value of something. We lose perspective when we grab things. We objectify them and interrupt the flow. When we appreciate someone, we have the distance to see them as they are. And if our desire or anger or need causes us to get stuck we have the tools of recognition and return. We see that we are stuck. We feel our stomach tightening, our mind scripting imaginary narratives, our heart aching for something that isn’t here. Then we know we are stuck in the past or the future. The present is a flow state. So when we are stuck, we recognize that and return to the flow of our breath. The breath will guide us back to the flow of now.
In meditation theory, the sun is used as a depiction of awareness. The sun shines on everything equally regardless of whether it is blocked by the moon, the clouds or the turning earth. Awareness is alive and awake in the universe whether or not we are conscious of it. It is the work of the meditator to uncover the veils of self-imposed obscuration that block access to awareness. We notice thoughts that are actually quite small in the scheme, and bring our attention back to the space afforded by the breath. As we do this, we are stepping back from the thought and revealing a larger context. Our blockage might appear less significant, even humorous. Over time, these obscurations become less solid and less imbued with “meaning”. They become right-sized. Sometimes they disappear altogether. Although the significant obscurations require less force, but more patience. Some will likely return. When that happens we are faced with the same task. Notice them as thinking, and return to the breath. This reconnects us to space, which is perspective. It sucks that we often have to be fooled again and again but that is the work of creating access to awareness. That sunlight will, in time, permeate our experience, but there is a lot of slogging to get there.
