I know my body houses memories. That is where the memory of the cereal I just ate will be for the rest of my time. Within this husk of skin, supported by bones and muscle, are a seemingly infinite number of memories. Where else are they if not in this body. Unless I have some kind of spiritual external hard drive that stores a back-up supply of memories, everything is inside this aging skin.
I don’t know how I hold in this body all the traces of past experiences, the joys and sorrows, the pleasures and pains, the hopes and disappointments. I know that I cannot intentionally recall all past experiences. But I unexpectedly see the images of my past when an experience spontaneously retrieves the memory of a previous one. I draw upon my past when a dream pulls images and events from my storehouse of memories.
I wonder how much of a memory the cells of my body have. Can they remember what it was like before they multiplied repeatedly to form this cooperative collection of cells that makes up my body. Within them, and certainly in my DNA, is the memory of what it was like to form fish then reptiles and other primates. These were the senarios of past events that were played out in the early weeks of my body when it engaged in genetic recall of what it was like to live with a previous form.
So how far back does this body memory go and is there a way that I can get access to these stored memories? I would like it if my body could remind me of what it was like before its form could support human intelligence. It would be such an adventure if my body could recall what it was like when molecules discovered they could join and support the spark of life. I wonder what it was like when cosmic dust spread throughout the universe, and eventually formed our planet.
I think my body knows. All those memories are stored deep in the fibers that make up the cells that give my body form and support life. Somewhere inside of me is the memory of that act of intelligence that launched this whole event. Maybe I’m thinking it right now.