If you were a book, you would be a book of memories. The idea that your memories make you who you are is a common one. They are probably not the whole story of you but it is difficult to deny that they are a significant part of that story.

Mark Rowlands Professor of Philosophy at the University of Miami.

I have often written that the essential component of what makes us human is our consciousness. As a result of our consciousness, for example, not only do we have thoughts but we are aware of those thoughts.

 We have what has been called a “theatre of mind” where we can observe the conscious processes of the mind being played out. It requires in fact we must deal not only with the world out there (our external world) as well as a world “in here” (our internal world).

(Of course we also have a subconscious mind that is far more difficult to access.)

Our conscious mind allows us to be aware of the world around us in our current circumstances. As I look out of my office window I can see the blue-faced honey-eaters gathering nectar from the grevillea in the front garden and hear them squabbling. I can also smell the flowers from the Mock Orange. I am for the time being absorbed by the present.

But as well as being aware of the present, my conscious mind can imagine things.  I can imagine what it might be like to go fishing in the Fitzroy and catch a barramundi. I can imagine seeing my first great grandchild. I can imagine my roses, which are all withered and mostly leafless because of a tropical summer, blooming freely and with green foliage again in the spring.

And so our consciousness allows us to be present in the “now”, but it also allows us to access scenarios which might never happen because of our imagination. In a similar way it enables us to access a version of the past – via our memories.

Over a life time we compile our own “book of life”, the pages of which comprise our memories.

Our memories are many facetted.

To begin with we have procedural memory. Our procedural memory comes into play for example when we learn to ride a bicycle. Procedural memories seem well embedded in our brains. Once we learn to ride a bicycle the skill largely remains with us. Similarly if I learn to play a musical instrument. Even if I don’t play it for a while I can generally still play a piece that I have learned well.

Then we have semantic memory .This is our memory for facts and figures. It is my semantic memory I rely on to know that the first European settlement of Australia occurred in 1788 and that the formula for the circumference of a circle is 2πr. This is the memory that quizmasters rely on!

Then there is episodic memory which enables us to reimagine events that have occurred in our life. It is our episodic memory that largely writes the book of our life.

But our memories are far from infallible! Just as we write the book of life through embedding our memories we also have the capacity to edit the book! And as usual our egos like to manipulate our memories to support their preferred narratives of our lives.

(I don’t want to labour the point in this short essay but I can provide plenty of research material that confirms how unreliable our memories can be.)

So, it is true to say that our book of life on which we rely to form some sense of identity, may not at all be reliable. To use an analogy I have often used before, the thumb of our ego is squarely on the scales in both forming and interpreting our memories.

But just like any book (I know because I have written some) there are subtle influences we can’t discard. Books aren’t merely a compendium of words. If I like a book it is often not just the words that matter but the style of writing. We normally prefer some authors over others because of the style in which they write.

When we compile our book of life, we too have a nuanced approach. Our book of life often reflects our hopes, our essential beliefs and our prejudices. The memories of a pessimist will reinforce how often bad things have happened. The memories of a perpetual victim will reinforce how often they’ve been wronged.

Laying down our memories seems to be a multi-faceted process when it comes to episodic memory. When something happens to us, first it is stored in our short-term memory. If it is significant enough we recall that memory from short-term memory and re-examine it. If we do this often enough our memory then becomes embedded in our long term memory.

Still the process is prone to error. Research shows our recollection of something that occurred will often differ from our original impression even after only a day.

If I store a video of a critical event each reviewing of the video will be largely the same. But our memories are not like videos. Each time we retrieve a memory we essentially reconstruct it. In many respects we “re-imagine” it and it is this re-imagined version which then gets stored in our long-term memory

So as I suggested above, this book of life we have created may be based on fact but it is also part fiction as well.

Our world largely comprises two parts. It is essential that we be engaged in the present. . Some Eastern belief systems highlight the importance of the “Eternal Now”. And indeed the present often demands our undivided attention, and to this end the sages promoted the notion of “Awareness”, So it is inevitable that consciousness shines a spotlight on the present – our present state and our present circumstances.

But it is not hard to argue that our lives can also be enriched by re-imagining into consciousness our past as represented by our memories. Even if they are partly false (as I have indicated) they provide us with a sense of continuity, identity and meaning.

This is why it is so sad to see the elderly and the neurologically impaired lose their capacity of recall. It is not only their memories they are losing but their sense of self.

Fortunately, in my eighty first year, I still retain much of my book of life. It is overall quite engaging and mostly enjoyable. I fervently hope you are at peace with your book as well whatever the content of its pages!