They say you must write to learn, to ascertain information better. I wonder if that’s true. Surely, some information can simply be absorb into our consciousness, surely, we don’t need to know the details, only it’s there to be gathered when needed – which is never when others want you to need it…
We won’t remember it clearly, of course, that’s not because we have poor memories, but because the information has been twisted and transformed; merged with other ideas in an indistinct way that cannot be ascertained. But we know it’s there, we know it when we write it down, when it’s fully formed, when it has festered in our brain.
Trying to force a memory is never good, because those ideas aren’t fully formed, they aren’t ready to come out; and they will never come out how you remembered them once they submerge into the recesses of your mind. They are twisted as thoughts gather upon each other until they become part of who you are. Only such thoughts are worth coming out, when they have been untangle and rearrange the twisted mess into something comprehensible, present it in a meaningful way for others and yourself.
But can we truly trust that this will happen, or will the thought be lost in the void if not printed on paper? Let me ask you, will you ever return to a note? The thousands of ideas and thoughts collected over the years? Most likely no, why should you? You have new thoughts every day, what makes the past ones special? They aren’t, because they are shallow thoughts, the genesis of greater ideas that is now is gone because it is now on a piece of paper… Words are where thoughts come to die, or be recreated, you choose which is which.
© Christopher Stamfors
Bones are that which keeps you here
Turn to dust and your soul will yield
Forgive this old fool
For the mistakes he’ve made
Leave me be and let the past fade
Fire rained over our heads
fume from the rocks seethed out of the ocean
Everything is quiet now
Except the gulls who shrieked and shuffled happily
Their meals now properly boiled