On Writing Memoir

The Veil of Memory

When I was young, I was taught that our spirits existed before this life in another dimension called The Spirit World. In The Spirit World, we knew many things about the the nature of God and everlasting life as well as the purpose of our time to come on earth. Once born into a physical body unto earthly parents, our memory of all Spirit World knowledge would disappear behind a veil that we would not be able to lift again until the death of our physical bodies.

This morning, I am struck by this as a metaphor for uncovering the meaning in our lives. While I no longer hold any faith in the mysticism of a fanciful eternal life, I do wish to understand and make meaning out of the only life of which I am certain. Memories appear as if behind veils of varying thickness, the heaviest shielding earliest recollection. To try and recall how I felt and what I thought as a child of five or six years old is like trying to lift a curtain like the one I was taught shields us from our pre-existence. As I’ve aged, the veils of memory have grown increasingly transparent and yet to see the roots, the anchors, the plugs, the stuff from which all else formed is like attempting to peer through all of the curtains at the same time.

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