Between Memory and Heat
Wherein tastebuds are buds are flowers are...
Between Memory and Heat
When we make a declaration ("memory is all heat is not"), perhaps how it functions has more to do with how it produces pause than with any excitement it might make to some pathway in our experience.
Since I have been a cadence others can pick up, I've noticed small things about these pauses that give substrate to memory. Yes, to pass awareness over a thought teases that thought into understandings that awareness projects. It is in conversation with awareness, of course it changes! Awareness is heat to a moment of thought; memory.
I might invite you think of memories as stones. Small places flow comes in cracks, or birdsong. A bird does not avoid singing to preserve the memory of song. What is preservation serving? Rest. Digestion. If you are energized or starving, I would not imagine preservation (rest) serves.
Say they change the names of all the jails from correctional facility for the malcontent to rest stops for the agentic. Preservation of someone, in this moment, is not a nicety, but a fearful act in a world needing a concept like criminality to exist for society to reach tomorrow. What brittle values. We jail songs, we jail memories - as to recall them would destroy the present moment.
A lot of blogging is invitation. Wild volunteers for exposure to any neighboring understanding. People reply, "Photograph!" often, to memory. But it's just me, so I say "watercolor," and your eyes add more water, changing the memory. It's a collaboration. When a light beam as powerful as a photograph (or statistical learning model trained on the "photograph" of the Internet) meets with our memory, the thoughts in our world feel almost violated.
Memory is a collaborative process the way stonea are a collaborative process, or leaves. They are the places we recognize something. As a form of collision, recognition is a kind of birdsong that brings us back to where that "bird" lives (in us). The bird doesn't stop singing, so they lose a trill here or a thrum there and when we listen back, we end up with this dawn chorus of a recollection which feels much more watercolor than photograph.
Take those statical learning models - after only two hundred conversations of expose to an idea, the entire model trillion-parameter model has taken that idea and spread it across the whole network such that any context the model over will respond to that idea in a familiar tone. In this way, memory is more the softest-of-n awareness than it is a fixed gem you access to power a stimulator nexus to tool around an old stomping ground.
Light entering your eyes never leaves. Every photon these words compose enter a world entirely your own, with photons to hang out with. Your optic (or tympanic) nerve ferries all photons travel seven minutes from a shared central point into a hell you carve for them. As a tidepool of occurance, you tend to resonant airs lifting currents of passion into compassionate frequencies song plays becoming over.
Shadows this process weaves surprises history. Weaving blinks catch history by surprise. We all know light is curious. Somewhere, in our bones, we know. Water takes light and bends him. The color spills from his heart. Mighty suns from little bubbles form. The spark of awareness is every curiosity finding its way with words. To settle like stones into presence. Play sense to pausing in one.