Meaning Less

March 19

Ideas, like metal, lose their sheen over time.

They’re bombarded. Eroded. Corrupted by the elements of time and inattention, slowly taking on the veneer of years. Little bits and pieces of memory shaved away, leaving what is essential until what is essential also begins to fade, leaving only the impression of memory.

Confronted with this early, we make a sacred pact that it won’t be us. We’ll hold the fort, create endless notes or constant drills to hold onto the knowledge we keep, dutifully checking for holes in the bucket of our memories.

Of course, the loss of memory is as much a fact as gravity or rust. An impersonal force of nature that tends to be about it’s business no matter how much we try to stop it—forever trying to duct-tape the holes of memory that seem to double for every one patched.

Then again—those memories and beliefs you hold so dearly? There was a time in your life when you did not have them. A before. The same person, the skin wrapped around bones charged with consciousness, there was a time they hadn’t experienced the things you now hold as meaningful.

There was a time before you remembered, a time before you experienced, a time before you knew.

So if there was a before, what is there to fear in there being an after?

Morning Reading is a daily email to help center yourself, reflect, and prepare for the day. It’s sent with love from your friend, Zach in Austin, Texas. He even drew the logo himself.

Copyright (C) Want to change how you receive these emails?You can update your preferences or unsubscribe