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My memories don't seem to age, but I do. Anyway, I can't always find them anymore. They are no longer wherever I put them. They may be memorable, but they aren't always remembered.

I used to be able to just go and remember whenever I wanted. Now memories may pop up or not. I can't always bring them to mind at will like I used to.

I believe that what does not reoccur is not remembered. That is why I study cycles, because (by definition) they endlessly reoccur. Certainly, as I age this principle is true. Fleeting attempts on my part to hold in mind peripheral thoughts soon give way to just monitoring whatever is coming up that does persist.

Persistence is obviously the key to memory. This is what gives truth such extended life, that it lasts long enough to be remembered. In fact, perhaps that is all that truth "is," what lasts. Everything else is eventually forgotten.

And if I ask myself, what is truth, I like to think that truth is good, but perhaps it is only what "is" or persists, good and bad. Or is persistence of any kind just "good?" The eternal verities are what last, so even if I can't remember something that is true, chances are it will come up, sooner or later, because it is able to persist. It's true.

As mentioned, I used to just remember stuff at will. Now, like some of my computer searches, my mind can just time-out and nothing comes back. This is frustrating, even embarrassing, and certainly dispiriting. It's not, as they say, one of the "good things." Or is the fact that as we age we all drink the proverbial "waters of Lethe" a blessing? I don't much like the idea of forgetfulness, but it does seem to be true, and truth is all that lasts, right?

As I wrote earlier, my life-long interest in cycles may be because they persist in reoccurring. They habitually posit themselves, again and again, thus making memory possible. In fact, whatever there is that does not cycle and re-posit itself is soon gone and forgotten. History is a history of what lasts, what cycles and reiterates itself. Truth lasts.

So one thing is true, that the fountain of truth is endlessly re-stating itself. And, as I get older, like a warm fire on a cold night, I find myself scooching in and leaning ever closer to that truth fountain.

It would seem that what I can't remember is not as important as the truth. In the long run, the truth may be the only thing we can remember, and that just may be a good thing.

[Photo taken recently.]