by: The Ignant Intellectual
Our memory can be wrong. The way we remember things is sometimes not how things happened in reality. Fifteen years ago, I withdrew from a sociology PhD program at The University of Wisconsin-Madison. I had not returned to Madison since leaving in 2009. Recently, I spent three days in Madison and on my last full day there, I decided to walk to the building that houses the sociology department. I recently realized that I still had unresolved trauma stored in my body from that experience and felt like walking the halls of that building would allow me to release what was left inside of me. It would allow me to forgive the institution, certain people and most importantly, forgive myself. As I walked up to the building, it was as if I had never been there before. It looked nothing like I remember. Nothing. To the point where I was like “Well maybe I use to come in from another direction”. I remember the buildings along the walk there but I simply did not feel like I was entering a building that I had entered at least 100 times before. Or more. I walked inside, a few things I vaguely remembered. Heavy on the vague. But NOTHING about it was firmly rooted in my memory. As I’d expected. I mean I’d had vivid recollections. I’d had solid memories. I’d talked to friends about classes we took about exams we had. Conversations. And in those moments, I had imagery in my mind. Colors. Angles. Hallways. Offices. Doors. But when I walked up to the actual building, went inside and got off the elevator on the appropriate floor, it was as if I was entering for the first time. Save the glass office where we used to drop off exams, register, and access certain things. That looked very familiar. But overall, the sociology floor was smaller and less eventful than I remember. Our memories can be wrong. What we remember can in actuality be smaller than we remember. Less eventful than we remember. Less grand than we remember. Less big than we remember. And sometimes going back and revisiting physical spaces can free us up from what our memory says is so big. So important. So grand. So pretty. Every time I enter the home of a relative who still lives in the same house they did when I was little, I think DAMN this house felt bigger when I was a kid. Every. Single. Time. Our memory can be wrong. The way we remember things is sometimes not how they are in reality. You see, time is not linear. It’s not just the clock and calendar that moves. So do we. We expand. We contract. We have experiences. We grow. We get taller. We get wider. Life lifes. This impacts our today’s perspective on the past. Our memory can be wrong. The way we remember things is sometimes not how they are in reality. Today. Sometimes we gotta revisit places to get our healing. Because if we leave it to memory alone, we will assign things a value that’s too big for its reality. We will remember it as more eventful than it is today. More grand than it is. Today. And dare I say, more grand than it ever was. Our memory can be wrong. ----------------------------------------- The Ignant Intellectual is: Capital 'B' Black. Big Dream Dreamer. Patricia's Only Child. Thought Leader. Lover. Social & Cultural Critic. Published Writer. Speaker. Social Justice Trainer & Facilitator. Spelman Dude. New Orleanian. Non-Conformist. The Bridge Between The Hood & The Ivory Tower. The Ignant Intellectual. Kind, Not Nice. Master-Procrastinator-In-Recovery. Analog Kid Trapped In A Digital Adulthood. Affectionate Asshole. Hood Historian. Nostalgia Nomad. Random Minor Note You Hear In Major Songs.
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Zerandrian S. MorrisI am a social and cultural critic. Archives
January 2025
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