strangeness of the past.
It belongs to us and defines our identity.
Based on the memories we take the basic references of the Self, but the memories are also a wealth of mind, basically something that is not is gone and you never know if there has been good in terms of how we believe. This filtering makes us remember to select the images, feelings and discard others, perhaps less noble, less pleasant, less rewarding.
Digging in my memory is a beautiful work, especially digging into the emotions that we removed.
discover that there are many, especially when it says: "I do not remember." Here
exists a kind of cowardice in retrospect, a wretched run but also makes us forget whole parts of us. Are, admittedly, "not remember" but also distorting, but we have forged blank and who knows where they went to fill.
Our view is important, just like when you search for an object, open the drawer and the object is there, right there where he always was. And you do not see it.
If I could change my memories, just like replacing a "software" inside, I wonder, what would I be?
And after the memory is not really a good "software" that I have built up over time, between reality and fantasy?
I remember those who have a total amnesia and no longer know anything about himself.
Would not it be besides a terrible loss of identity, also a wonderful opportunity to release a truly authentic self?
I am reminded of a book I read long ago.
It is titled "Breaking free from the known" by Krishnamurti.
I think I am ready to read.
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