Funny thing is that I sat down to type another post and didn’t realize until a paragraph or so later what I was typing. Guess this is what I need to get out. In class last week the instructor started by reading a poem as part of our contemplative moment. One – probably the only one – thing I remember from the poem is this sentence: the memory falters, but the soul remembers. The poem was followed by a discussion on African American history and the slave trade. We engaged in very rich dialogue about the African traditions that remain present in the lives of many African Americans. One of the commentators from a related video talked about specific traditions and practices of which she was not aware of the origin, but knew they felt familiar.
Although we were speaking specifically about the transference and adaptation of African culture into African American culture, I believe this snippet of the poem – this belief – can be related to other human experiences. The essence of this sentence says – to me – that there are some things our human mind cannot comprehend or explain: why we are drawn to certain people, places and things; why certain songs touch our souls so deeply; why some things feel so familiar. In more recent/relevant terms, I think of how I cannot place specific memories from my childhood, but when I eat a specific food or revisit a specific space I feel a kindred spirit. That one quote at the beginning of this post describes the power of the soul … the essence of the soul: to capture and hold dear those things our mind consciously or unconsciously forgets.