What we call memories are as the footprints of something our mind is, relates with (as other), and does. Were we to encounter this force directly, we would be so astonished that all the world’s religious stories would seem crude and timid in comparison.

A human mind is entirely remade by a direct encounter with Memory. All previous models of meaning and identity are irrevocably transformed during such an experience, and even the sum of human stories and descriptions would be like a thimble of bad sketches in comparison.

Memory is not a way of storing experience. It exceeds the sum of our categories, which are, indeed, little more than caricatures of a tiny selection of its representational extensions. But to encounter Memory directly is to know it as an intelligent force with which one can relate.

Yet it belongs to an order of being too rarely contacted or discussed in our time. In fact, our models and stories… our sciences and religions… even our cultures and subcultures… cannot withstand the momentous insight generated during such encounters, and thus, by their nature, activity and structure, in and as our minds, will tend to forbid them.