No one would argue that our brains are overloaded with a lot of useless information. I watched a program about a family living off the land in Kentucky, during the Great Depression. They were musicians and I marveled at how they knew the words to songs even though they did not know how to read or write. Without television, radio, phones, and internet to distract them, they had ample sapce in their memories’ reservoirs for song lyrics.
In our technologically savvy world we have a constant stream of information bombarding us from all directions. Our minds are kept busy even when we should be sleeping, trying to sort through and file the sensory overload we deal with on a daily basis. There is much that we do not understand about our brains. For some reason that I cannot fathom, I always remember that March 14th was my step father’s birthday. We did not like each other, so why on earth do I remember his birthday, but I can barely remember the birthdays of my grandchildren? Why do I recall my phone number from when I was a child, but I cannot remember ones that I may need today? Why do songs get stuck in my head – even ones that I have no recollection of recently hearing – but were probably playing in the background while I was grocery shopping? Why do certain phrases of something someone said to me years ago, stand out above 99% of all the other things they may have said?
Communication is a complicated thing. Other species communicate with their own, as well as other species. Elephants are known for their excellent memories. Memory is based on experience that varies for each person, experiencing the same event differently. Good communication can be complicated and yet it is vital to our existence. Decisions and choices are made not only on current information, but on the accumulation of stored memories. The only way to find clarity amidst the din and noise of modern life, is to seek that quiet place within. We must escape on a regular basis to that silent space, through meditation, a walk in the woods, or a regular yoga practice, where we can separate the wheat from the chaff, so to speak. It is from that silent space where we can close the door long enough to hear the still, small voice within; that we know the decisions we make are crystal clear.
