Too much going on? Press the pause button.........

I don't know about you, but sometimes I feel like

I just want to put up my hand and say: STOP!

There's only so much (emotional) information

I can deal with at the time.

Long ago I watched  a movie that made an indelible

impression on me. I tried to find it on IMDB, but no

luck.

So, I remember it being titled ''Dis-soc-iation'', with Emma Thompson

playing the lead. Actually, she was the only actor in the

movie. Basically, the movie was shot from the

perspective of us(the viewers) being inside Emma's head

and in that way ''witnesses'' to all of her thoughts.

After the movie finished I was utterly perplexed.

I asked myself: what on earth was this movie all about????

I looked up the word dissociation: ''Dissociation is a mental process

that nearly everyone experiences at some point in their

lives. Often we may dissociate when we are going

through traumatic or emotionally stressful times. "

Reading the definition of dissociation still made little

sense to me. I decided to put it in the ''too hard'' basket.

And there it stayed until the end of last year.

Like a blade of grass making its way through layers of

bitumen, the word fought its way through layers

of my subconscious until it could no longer remain

there. It surfaced in my consciousness.

I Googled it.

Short version: ''Disconnecting from the here and now.''

I would hazard a guess that most of us engage at

times in daydreaming, mind-wandering, or ''zoning out''.

Experiencing the odd occasion of ''the mind going

blank'', or feeling as if there is a disconnect between

the mind and body.

Which, according to those in the know is considered

as ''normal''.

(Sitting in a dentist's chair having a root-canal, a bit of 

dissociation can be very useful I discovered the last

time I had one.)

In psychoanalytic theory, dissociation is considered a

''defense mechanism'' as it can help us momentarily

''exit'' or at least mute stressful, emotionally charged, 

and difficult thoughts and or memories.

(Especially for children growing up in abusive

environments.)

Perhaps it is a bit like pressing the ''pause'' button

in order to allow our minds to process what we

are experiencing in the now?

I was once the sole eyewitness to a car crash. When the

police interviewed me as to what had happened, my 

mind was blank. All I could remember was the sound 

of the car hitting the tree head on. Until two weeks

later when I suddenly remembered it all.

My mind had released the pause button.

There is a lot of stuff going on in the world

right now, and a lot of it is quite scary.

Perhaps a little ''mindful'' dissociating every now and

then may actually be helpful?

Go on, take a little time out in your mind to

wander down a sunlit path to that still,

glistening, clear blue lake in the middle

of the enchanted forest.

about the painting: acrylic on cardboard

How trustworthy are memories?

Memories.

A word often defined as a faculty of the brain by

which data/information is stored, encoded, and retrieved

when wanted or needed.

I guess, perhaps one could say that it is a bit like a

''virtual time machine'' that allows us to re-visit moments

and experiences from our past.

(Where this takes place and exactly how our brains do

this marvelous bit of ''magic'', I leave up to you

to Google.)

Recently I have been pondering what happens to a memory

once we have stored it away. Does it stay intact like a photo,

or is it malleable?

Whatever emotions we may have been experiencing at the

moment when the memory was made, do they stay attached

to that memory or do they change?

So, here is what I discovered when I started to do a bit

of research into memories: They always change.

Daniella Schiller of Mt. Sinai School of Medicine says that

memories are malleable constructs that are reconstructed each

time we recall a memory.

Our memories are not like ''files'' that remain the same

every time we pull one out.

According to Schiller each time a memory is revisited

we do a bit of editing.

Although unwittingly, our now edited memory becomes the

''real'' memory.

So instead of our memory being like a file,

a memory is more like a story and with each re-telling

of that story whatever emotions that were originally

attached to it, change.

Schiller says that:''My conclusion is that memory is

what you are now. Not in pictures, not in recordings.

Your memory is how you are now.''

In other words, memories aren't written once, rather,

they are re-written each time we remember them.

You: Hey, do you remember that old, fat, matron

who used to yell at the top of her lungs at us every day?

Old school friend: Old? She wasn't old, nor was she fat. She 

was only in her thirties and I remember her as nice.

Perplexed you start to protest: nah, nah, she was old.

Old school friend: Nah, you're not remembering right.

Who is right?

Does the term ''right'' even apply?

My first visit back to my childhood home years after

I had moved out was very intriguing.

My room, our house, our garden, was so much smaller

than I remembered it. Actually, everything seemed smaller.

In an instant many of my memories were edited.

Research is showing that emotionally charged events

are remembered more and in greater detail than

events less emotionally charged.

Although, that does not necessarily mean more accurate.

Strong emotions can skew the way we view an event,

which in turn will affect how we remember it.

Those in the know suggest that emotions acts at all

points of the memory cycle- that is at encoding,

consolidation, and retrieval.

(as in learning/remembering the info, making sense out 

of the info, accessing memories/info)

So, can memories be trusted? How true are they?

Well, that depends on one's definition of ''true''.

They are definitely malleable it seems.

But, that's a good thing methinks.

Hindsight can be very useful.

We can ask ourselves questions for instance.

What kind of mood was I in when xyz took place?

Was I present in mind?

Could I have misunderstood some aspects?

Was I distracted?

Have I embellished the memory? Etc.etc....

According to Daniel Kahneman: we are

always searching for causality, re-framing events

to fit into a context and we are ready to

believe things as long as they fit fluidly

into that context.

There comes a time in your life when you

have to choose to turn the page,

write another book or simply close it.

(Shannon L. Alder)

About the image: Acrylic on canvas, a memory of walking

through a spring forest

The magic of fireworks.....when being 5 years old

The above image is part of a painting I painted titled:

''Jimmy gets a talking to....''

The painting is made from a photo I found in an old magazine.
Under the photo it said: A New York policeman warns a small Asian boy
of the dangers of running into the middle of a busy street.

Jimmy
It's the 4th of July and fire crackers are colouring
the skies. On Jimmy's block everyone has shut their shops
and are standing in the street watching the fireworks as
they explode above their heads.
Jimmy's mother tightens her grip on Jimmy's hand
and draws him closer to her.
As one after the other fire cracker bursts into a million
sparkling lights the people on the street oohs and aahs
and clap their hands.
Jimmy stretches himself to be as tall as he can, but all he 
can see are the backs and heads of the people in front of him.
He jumps as high as he can, but he still can't see.
His mother tightens her grip again.
''Jimmy, stop jumping!''
''But I can't see Mom, I want to see!!!
Lift me up Mom, lift me up!!''
His mother bends down to lift him up,
but she quickly realizes that her back is not up to it.
''I'm sorry Jimmy, I can't lift you. My back is hurting
too much right now.''
Baking all through the nights for the last two months
has taken a toll on her, not to mention being seven
month's pregnant at that.
Jimmy decides to make a run for it.
He knows that there is a stack of pallets
just up the street because he has climbed them
lots of times.
He waits for his mother to loosen her grip again
and as soon as she does, he runs.
''Jimmy, come back this instant!'' he hears his mother 
shouting, which he ignores. After all, he's no baby
anymore, he's five years old.
Bopping and weaving in between the cars still driving
up and down the street, Jimmy runs as fast as he can
towards the pallets.
Two of his friends standing on top of the pallets, sees
Jimmy and shout out to him: ''Hurry up Jimmy, you're gonna
miss the show!!!''
Just as he is about to start climbing up the pallets,
strong hands grab him around his waist and pulls him back.
Towering before him stands officer Berk.
Jimmy decides to stare at his shoes. He knows that he is
in trouble.
Officer Berk bends down so that he can look Jimmy in the eyes.
''Jimmy, look up. Look me in the eyes. You know that
what you did was dangerous, don't you?''
Jimmy tries a furtive smile.
''So, what have you got to say for yourself, lad?''
''I just want to see the magic in the sky but
I'm just too small.''
''Let's go and find your mom Jimmy, I bet she
is really worried.''
Before Jimmy knows it, Officer Berk has lifted him on to
 his shoulders.
''Can you see now, Jimmy?''
''Oh, yes!''
Jimmy claps his hands, and oohs and aahs
 as the fireworks explode against the dark
evening sky.


As they say: ''A picture paints a thousand words.....''