MEMORY AND ITS NATURE/PART 2
2. THE NATURE OF MEMORY
by Annie Besant
THE
nature of memory is a problem which has been troubling theosophical students
for many years, and perhaps I may also succeed in troubling them still further
by offering a theory on the subject; on the other hand it is possible that I
may succeed in helping them a little by the presentation of a view that is to
myself helpful and clarifying.
What
is memory? How does it work? By what means do we recover the past, whether near
or remote? For, after all, whether the past be near or remote, belonging to
this or to any anterior life, the means which govern its recovery must be
similar, and we require a theory which will include all cases of memory, and at
the same time will enable us to understand each particular case.
The
first step towards obtaining a definite and intelligible theory is a
comprehension of our own composition, of the Self with its sheaths, and their
inter-relation. We must bear constantly in mind the facts that our consciousness
is a unit, and that this unit of consciousness works through various sheaths,
which impose upon it a false appearance of multiplicity. The innermost, or most
tenuous, of these sheaths is inseparable from the unit of consciousness; in
fact, it is this sheath which makes it a unit. This unit is the Monad, dwelling
on the Anupadaka plane; but for all practical purposes we may take it as the
familiar inner Man, the Tri-Atom, Atma-Buddhi-Manas, thought of as apart from
the Atmic, Buddhic and Manasic sheaths. This unit of consciousness manifests
through, abides in, sheaths belonging to the five planes of its activity, and
we call it the Self working in its sheaths.
We
must think, then, of a conscious Self dwelling in vehicles that vibrate. The
vibrations of these vehicles correspond, on the side of matter, with the
changes in consciousness in the side of the Self. We cannot accurately speak of
vibrations of consciousness, because vibrations can only belong to the material
side of things, the form side, and only loosely can we speak of a vibrating
consciousness corresponding with vibrations in sheaths.
The
question of the vehicles, or bodies, in which consciousness, the Self, is
working, is all-important as regards memory. The whole process of recovering
more or less remote events is a question of picturing them in the sheath 'of
shaping part of the matter of the sheath into their likeness in which
consciousness is working at the time. In the Self, as a fragment of the
universal Self which for our purpose we can take to be the LOGOS, although in
verity the LOGOS is but a portion of the universal Self' is present in
everything; for in the universal Self is present all which has taken place, is
taking place, and will take place in the universe; all this, and an illimitable
more is present in the universal Consciousness. Let us think only of a universe
and its LOGOS. We speak of Him as omnipresent and omniscient. Now,
fundamentally, that omnipresence and omniscience are in the individualized
Self, as being one with the LOGOS, but 'we must put in here a but' with a
difference; the difference consisting in this, that while in the separated
Self, as Self, apart from all vehicles, that omnipresence and omniscience
reside by virtue of his unity with the one Self, the vehicles in which he
dwells have not yet learned to vibrate in answer to his change of
consciousness, as he turns his attention to one or another part of his
contents. Hence we say that all exists in him potentially, and not as in the
LOGOS actually: all the changes which go on in the consciousness of the LOGOS
are reproducible in this separated Self, which is an indivisible part of His
life, but the vehicles are not yet ready as media of manifestation. Because of
the separation of form, because of this closing in of the separate, or
individualized, Self, these possibilities which are within it as part of the
Universal Self are latent, not manifest, are possibilities, not actualities. As
in every atom which goes to the making up of a vehicle, there are illimitable possibilities
of vibration, so in every separated Self there are illimitable possibilities of
changes of consciousness.
Self
is One with Logos
We
do not find in the atom, at the beginning of a solar system, an illimitable
variety of vibrations; but we learn that it possesses a capacity to acquire an
illimitable variety of vibrations; it acquires these in the course of its
evolution, as it responds continually to vibrations playing upon its surface;
at the end of a solar system, an immense number of the atoms in it have reached
the stage of evolution in which they can vibrate in answer to any vibration
touching them that arises within the system; then, for that system, these atoms
are said to be perfected. The same thing is true for the separated, or individualized,
Selves. All the changes taking place in the consciousness of the LOGOS which
are represented in that universe, and take shape as forms in that universe, all
these are also within the perfected consciousness in that universe, and any of
these changes can be reproduced in any one of them. Here is memory: the
re-appearance, the re-incarnation in matter, of anything that has been within
that universe, and therefore ever is, in the consciousness of its LOGOS, and in
the consciousness which are part of His consciousness. Although we think of the
Self as separate as regards all other Selves, we must ever remember it is
in-separate as regards the ONE SELF, the LOGOS. His life is not shut out from
any part of His universe, and in Him we live and move and have our being, open
ever to Him, filled with His life.
As
the Self puts on vehicle after vehicle of matter, its powers of gaining
knowledge become, with each additional vehicle, more circumscribed but also
more definite. Arrived on the physical plane, consciousness is narrowed down to
the experiences which can be received through the physical body, and chiefly
through those openings which we call the sense-organs; these are avenues
through which knowledge can reach the imprisoned Self, though we often speak of
them as shutting out knowledge when we think of the capacities of the subtler
vehicles. The physical body renders perception definitive and clear much as a
screen with a minute hole in it allows a picture of the outside world to appear
on a screen that would otherwise show a blank surface; rays of light are truly
shut off from the screen, but by that very shutting off, those allowed to enter
form a clearly defined picture.
Let
us now see what happens as regards the physical vehicle in the reception of an
impression and in the subsequent recall of that impression, i.e., in the memory
of it.
A
vibration from outside strikes on an organ of sense, and is transmitted to the
appropriate centre in the brain. A group of cells in the brain vibrates, and
that vibration leaves the cells in a state somewhat different from the one in
which they were previous to its reception. The trace of that response is a
possibility for the group of cells; it has once vibrated in a particular way,
and it retains for the rest of its existence as a group of cells the
possibility of again vibrating in that same way without again receiving a
stimulus from the outside world. Each repetition of an identical vibration
strengthens this possibility, each leaving its own trace, but many such repetitions
will be required to establish a self-initiated repetition: the cells come
nearer to this possibility of a self-initiated vibration by each repetition
compelled from outside. But this vibration has not stopped with the physical
cells; it has been transmitted inwards to the corresponding cell, or group of
cells, in the subtler vehicles, and has ultimately produced a change in
consciousness. This change, in its turn, re-acts on the cells, and a repetition
of the vibrations is initiated from within by the change in consciousness, and
this repetition is a memory of the object which started the series of
vibrations. The response of the cells to the vibration from outside, a response
compelled by the laws of the physical universe, gives to the cells the power of
responding to a similar impulse, though feebler, coming from within. A little
power is exhausted in each moving of matter in a new vehicle, and hence a
gradual diminution of the energy in the vibration. Less and less is exhausted
as the cells repeat similar vibrations in response to new impacts from without,
the cells answering more readily with each repetition.
Therein
lies the value of the 'without'. It wakes up in the matter, more easily than by
any other way, the possibility of response, being more closely akin to the
vehicles than the 'within'.
The
change caused in consciousness, also, leaves the consciousness more ready to
repeat that change than it was at first to yield to it, and each such change
brings the consciousness nearer to the power to initiate a similar change.
Looking back into the dawnings of consciousness, we see that the imprisoned
Selves go through innumerable experiences before a Self-initiated change in
consciousness occurs; but bearing this in mind, as a fact, we can leave these
early stages, and study the workings of consciousness at a more advanced point.
We must also remember that every impact, reaching the innermost sheath and
giving rise to a change in consciousness, is followed by a reaction, the change
in consciousness causing a new series of vibrations from within outwards; there
is the going inwards to the Self, followed by the rippling outwards from the
Self, the first due to the object, and giving rise to what we call a
perception, and the second due to the reaction of the Self, causing what we
call a memory.
Memories
of Past Lives
A
number of sense-impressions, coming through sight, hearing, touch, taste and
smell, run up from the physical vehicle through the astral to the mental. There
they are co-ordinated into a complex unity, as a musical chord is composed of
many notes. This is the special work of the mental body: it receives many
streams and synthesizes them into one; it builds many impressions into a
perception, a thought, a complex unity.
Let
us try to catch this complex thing after it has gone inwards and has caused a
change in consciousness, an idea; the change it has caused gives rise to new
vibrations in the vehicles, reproducing those it had caused on its inward way,
and in each vehicle it reappears in a fainter form. It is not strong, vigorous
and vivid, as when its component parts flashed from the physical to the astral,
and from the astral to the mental; it reappears in the mental in a fainter
form, the copy of that which the mental sent inward, but the vibrations
feebler; as the Self receives from it a reaction — for the impact of a
vibration on touching each vehicle must cause a re-action — that re-action is
far feebler than the original action, and will therefore seem less 'real' than
that action; it makes a lesser change in consciousness, and that lessening
represents inevitably a less 'reality'
So
long as the consciousness is too little responsive to be aware of any impacts
that do not come through with the impulsive vigour of the physical, it is
literally more in touch with the physical than with any other sheath, and there
will be no memories of ideas, but only memories of perceptions, i.e., of
pictures of outside objects, caused by vibrations of the nervous matter of the
brain, reproducing themselves in the related astral and mental matter. These
are literally pictures in the mental matter, as are the pictures on the retina
of the eye. And the consciousness perceives these pictures, 'sees' them, as we
may truly say, since the seeing of the eye is only a limited expression of its
perceptive power. As the consciousness draws a little away from the physical,
turning attention more to the modification in its inner sheaths, it sees these
pictures reproduced in the brain from the astral sheath by its own re-action
passing outwards, and there is the memory of sensations. The picture arises in
the brain by the re-action of the change in consciousness, and is recognized
there. This recognition implies that the consciousness has withdrawn largely
from the physical to the astral vehicle, and is working therein. The human
consciousness is thus working at the present time, and is, therefore full of
memories, these memories being reproductions in the physical brain of past
pictures, caused by re-actions from consciousness. In a lowly evolved human
type, these pictures are pictures of past events in which the physical body was
concerned, memories of hunger and thirst and of their gratification, of sexual
pleasures, and so on, things in which the physical body took an active part. In
a higher type, in which the consciousness is working more in the mental
vehicle, the pictures in the astral body will draw more of its attention; these
pictures are shaped in the astral body by the vibrations coming outwards from
the mental, and are perceived as pictures by the consciousness as it withdraws
itself more into the mental body as its immediate vehicle. As this process goes
on, and the more awakened consciousness responds to vibrations initiated from
outside on the astral plane by astral objects, these objects grow 'real' and
become distinguishable from the memories, the pictures in the astral body
caused by the re-actions from consciousness.
Let
us note, in passing, that with the memory of an object goes hand in hand a
picture of the renewal of the keener experience of the object by physical
contact, and this we call anticipation; and the more complete the memory of an
event the more complete is this anticipation. So that the memory will sometimes
even cause in the physical body the re-actions which normally accompany the
contact with the external object, and we may savor in anticipation pleasures
which are not within present reach of the body. Thus the anticipation of savory
food will cause 'the mouth to water' This fact will again appear, when we reach
the completion of our theory of memory.
Now,
having noted the changes in the vehicles which arise from impacts from the
external world, the response to these as changes of consciousness, the feebler
vibrations produced in the vehicles by the re-action of consciousness, and the
recognition of these again by consciousness as memories, let us come to the
crux of the question: What is memory? The breaking up of the bodies between
death and reincarnation puts an end to their automatism, to their power of
responding to vibrations similar to those already experienced; the responsive
groups are disintegrated, and all that remains as a seed for future responses
is stored within the permanent atoms; how feeble this is, as compared with the
new automatisms imposed on the mass of the bodies by new experiences of the
external, may be judged by the absence of any memory of past lives initiated in
the vehicles themselves. In fact, all the permanent atoms can do is to answer
more readily to vibrations of a kind similar to those previously experienced
than to those that come to them for the first time. The memory of the cells, or
of groups of cells, perishes at death, and cannot be said to be recoverable, as
such. Where then is memory preserved?
The
brief answer is: memory is not a faculty and is not preserved; it does not
inhere in consciousness as a capacity, nor is any memory of events stored up in
the individual consciousness. Every event is a present fact in the
universe-consciousness, in the consciousness of the LOGOS; everything that
occurs in His universe, past, present and future, is ever there in His
all-embracing consciousness, in His 'eternal Now'. From the beginning of the
universe to its ending, from its dawn to its sunset, all is there, ever-present,
existent. In that ocean of ideas, all IS; we, wandering in the ocean, touch
fragments of its contents, and our response to the contact is our knowledge;
having known, we can more readily again contact, and this repetition ' when
falling short of the contact of the outside sheath of the moment with the
fragments occupying its own plane' is memory. All 'memories' are recoverable
because all possibilities of image-producing vibrations are within the
consciousness of the LOGOS, and we can share in that consciousness the more
easily as we have previously shared more often similar vibrations; hence, the
vibrations which have formed parts of our experience are more readily repeated
by us than those we have never known, and here comes in the value of the permanent
atoms; the thrill out again, on being stimulated, the vibrations previously
performed, and out of all the possibilities of vibrations of the atoms and
molecules of our bodies those sound out which answer to the note struck by the
permanent atoms. The fact that we have been affected vibrationally and by
changes of consciousness during the present life makes it easier for us to take
out of the universal consciousness that of which we have already had experience
in our own. Whether it be a memory in the present life, or one in a life long
past, the method of recovery is the same. There is no memory save the
ever-present consciousness of the LOGOS, in whom we literally live and move and
have our being; and our memory is merely putting ourselves into touch with such
parts of His consciousness as we have previously shared.
Hence,
according to Pythagoras, all learning is remembrance, for it is the drawing
from the consciousness of the LOGOS into that of the separated Self that which
in our essential unity with Him is eternally ours. On the plane where the unity
overpowers the separateness, we share His consciousness of our universe; on the
lower planes, where the separateness veils the unity, we are shut out therefrom
by our unevolved vehicles. It is the lack of responsiveness in these which
hinders us, for we can only know the planes through them. Therefore we cannot
directly improve our memory; we can only improve our general receptivity and
power to reproduce, by rendering our bodies more sensitive, while being careful
not to go beyond their limit of elasticity. Also we can 'pay attention'; i.e.,
we can turn the awareness of consciousness, we can concentrate consciousness on
that special part of the consciousness of the LOGOS to which we desire to
attune ourselves. We need not thus distress ourselves with calculations as to
'how many angels can stand on the point of a needle', how we can preserve in a
limited space the illimitable number of vibrations experienced in many lives;
for the whole of the form-producing vibrations in the universe are
ever-present, and are available to be drawn upon by any individual unit, and
can be reached as, by evolution, such a one experiences ever more and more.
Let
us apply this to an event in our past life. Some of the circumstances 'remain
in our memory', others are 'forgotten'. Really, the event exists with all its
surrounding circumstances, 'remembered' and 'forgotten' alike, in but one
state, the memory of the LOGOS , the universal memory. Anyone who is able to
place himself in touch with that memory can recover the whole circumstances as
much as we can; the events through which we have passed are not ours but form
part of the contents of His consciousness; and our sense of property in them is
only due to the fact that we have previously vibrated to them, and therefore
vibrate again to them more readily than if we contacted them for the first
time.
We
may, however, contact them with different sheaths at different times, living as
we do under time and space conditions which vary with each sheath. The part of
the consciousness of the LOGOS that we move through in our physical bodies is
far more restricted than that we move through in our astral and mental bodies,
and the contacts through a well-organized body are far more vivid than those
through a less-organized one. Moreover, it must be remembered that the
restriction of area is due to our vehicles only; faced by the complete event,
physical, astral, mental, spiritual, our consciousness of it is limited within
the range of the vehicles able to respond to it. We feel ourselves to be among
the circumstances which surround the grossest vehicle we are acting in, and
which thus touch it from 'outside'; whereas we 'remember' the circumstances
which we contact with the fine vehicles, these transmitting the vibrations to
the grosser vehicle, which is thus touched from 'within'.
Test
of Objectivity
The
test of objectivity that we apply to circumstances 'present' or 'remembered' is
that of the 'common sense'. If others around us see as we see, hear as we hear,
we regard the circumstances as objective; if they do not, if they are
unconscious of that of which we are conscious, we regard the circumstances as
subjective. But this test of objectivity is only valid for those who are active
in the same sheaths; if one person is working in the physical body and another
in the physical and the astral, the things objective to the man in the astral
body cannot affect the man in the physical body, and he will declare them to be
subjective hallucinations. The 'common sense' can only work in similar bodies;
it will give similar results when all are in physical bodies, all in astral, or
all in mental. For the 'common sense' is merely the thought-forms of the LOGOS
on each plane, conditioning each embodied consciousness, and enabling it to
respond by certain changes to certain vibrations in its vehicles. It is by no means
confined to the physical plane, but the average humanity at the present stage
of evolution has not sufficiently unfolded the indwelling consciousness for
them to exercise any 'common sense', on the astral and mental planes. 'Common
sense' is an eloquent testimony to the oneness of our indwelling lives: we see
all things around us on the physical plane in the same way, because our
apparently separate consciousnesses are all really part of the one
consciousness ensouling all forms. We all respond in the same general way,
according to the stage of our evolution, because we share the same
consciousness; and we are affected similarly by the same things because the
action and re-action between them and ourselves is the interplay of one life in
varied forms.
Recovery
of anything by memory, then, is due to the ever-existence of everything in the
consciousness of the LOGOS, and He has imposed upon us the limitations of time
and space in order that we may, by pratice, be able to respond swiftly by
changes of consciousness to the vibrations caused in our vehicles by vibrations
coming from other vehicles similarly ensouled by consciousness; thus only can
we gradually learn to distinguish precisely and clearly; contacting things
successively — that is, being in time — and contacting them in relative
directions in regard to ourselves and to each other — that is, being in space —
we are gradually unfolded to the state in which we can recognize all
simultaneously and each everywhere — that is, out of time and space.
As
we pass through countless happenings in life we find that we do not keep in
touch with all through which we have passed; there is a very limited power of
response in our physical vehicle, and hence numerous experiences drop out of
its purview. In trance, we can recover these, and they are said to emerge from
the sub-conscious. Truly they remain ever unchanging in the universal
Consciousness, and as we pass by them we become aware of them, because the very
limited light of our consciousness, shrouded in the physical vehicle, falls
upon them, and they disappear as we pass on; but as the area covered by that
same light shining through the astral vehicle is larger, they again appear when
we are in trance — that is in the astral vehicle, free from the physical; they have
not come and gone and come back again, but the light of our consciousness in
the physical vehicle had passed on and so we saw them not, and the more
extended light in the astral vehicle enables us to see them again. As Bhagavan
Das has well said:
'If a
spectator wandered unrestingly through the halls of a vast museum, a great art
gallery, at the dead of night, with a single small lamp in one hand, each of
the natural objects, the pictured scenes, the statues, the portraits, would be
illumined by that lamp, in succession, for a single moment, while all the rest
were in darkness, and after that single moment, would itself fall into darkness
again. Let there now be not one but countless such spectators, as many in
endless number as the objects of sight within the place, each spectator
meandering in and out incessantly through the great crowd of all the others,
each lamp bringing momentarily into light one object and for only that
spectator who holds that lamp. This immense and unmoving building is the rock-bound
ideation of the changeless Absolute. Each lamp-carrying spectator out of the
countelss crowd is one line of consciousness out of the pseudo-infinite lines
of such that make up the totality of the one universal consciousness. Each
coming into light of each object is it patency, is an experience of the jiva;
each falling into darkness in its lapse into the latent. From the standpoint of
the objects themselves, or of the universal consciousness, there is no latency,
nor patency. From that of the lines of consciousness, there is'. [The Science
of Peace, second edition, pp. 341-342]
Consciousness
' Turns its Attention'
As
vehicle after vehicle comes to fuller working, the area of light extends, and
the consciousness can turn its attention to any one part of the area and
observe closely the objects therein included. Thus, when the consciousness can
function freely on the astral plane, and is aware of its surroundings there, it
can see much that on the physical plane is 'past' — or 'future', if they be things
to which in the 'past' it has learned to respond. Things outside the area of
light coming through the vehicle of the astral body will be within the area of
that which streams from the subtler mental vehicle. When the causal body is the
vehicle, the 'memory of past lives' is recoverable, the causal body vibrating
more readily to events to which it has before vibrated, and the light shining
through it embracing a far larger area and illuminating scenes long 'past' —
those scenes being really no more past than the scenes of the present, but
occupying a different spot in time and space. The lower vehicles, which have
not previously vibrated to these events, cannot readily directly contact them
and answer to them; that belongs to the causal body, the relatively permanent
vehicle. But when this body answers to them, the vibrations from it readily run
downwards, and may be reproduced in the mental, astral and physical bodies.
The
phrase is used above, as to consciousness, that 'it can turn its attention to
any one part of the area, and observe closely the objects therein included'.
This 'turning of the attention' corresponds very closely in consciousness to
what we should call focusing the eye in the physical body. If we watch the
action taking place in the muscles of the eye when we look first at a near and
then at a distant object, or vice versa, we shall be conscious of a slight
movement, and this constriction or relaxation causes a slight compression or
the reverse in the lenses of the eye. It is an automatic action now, quite
instinctive, but it has only become so by practice; a baby does not focus his
eye, nor judge distance. He grasps as readily at a candle on the other side of
the room as at one within his reach, and only slowly learns to know what is beyond
his reach. The effort to see clearly leads to the focusing of the eye, and
presently it becomes automatic. The objects for which the eye is focused are
within the field of clear vision, and the rest are vaguely seen. So, also, the
consciousness is clearly aware of that to which its attention is turned; other
things remain vague, 'out of focus'.
A
man gradually learns thus to turn his attention to things long past, as we
measure time. The causal body is put into touch with them, and the vibrations
are then transmitted to the lower bodies. The presence of a more advanced
student will help a less advanced, because when the astral body of the former
has been made to vibrate responsively to long past events, thus creating an
astral picture of them, the astral body of the younger student can more readily
reproduce these vibrations and thus also 'see'. But even when a man has learned
to put himself into touch with his past, and through, his own with that of
others connected with it, he will find it more difficult to turn his attention
effectively to scenes with which he has had no connection; and when that is
mastered, he will still find it difficult to put himself into touch with scenes
outside the experiences of his recent past; for instance, if he wishes to visit
the moon, and by his accustomed methods launches himself in that direction, he
will find himself bombarded by a hail of unaccustomed vibrations to which he
cannot respond, and will need to fall back on his inherent divine power to
answer to anything which can affect his vehicles. If he seeks to go yet
further, to another planetary chain, he will find a barrier he cannot overleap,
the Ring Pass-not of his own planetary Logos.
We
thus begin to understand what is meant by the statements that people at a certain
grade of evolution can reach this or that part of the cosmos; they can put
themselves into touch with the consciousness of the LOGOS outside the
limitations imposed by their material vehicles on the less evolved. These
vehicles, being composed of matter modified by the action of the planetary
Logos of the chain to which they belong, cannot respond to the vibrations of
matter differently modified; and the student must be able to use his Atmic body
before he can contact the universal memory beyond the limits of his own chain.
Such
is the theory of memory which I present for the consideration of theosophcal
students. It applies equally to the small memories and forgettings of everyday
life as to the vast reaches alluded to in the above paragraphs. For there is
nothing small or great to the LOGOS, and when we are performing the smallest
act of memory, we are as much putting ourselves into touch with the
omnipresence and omniscience of the LOGOS, as when we are recalling a far-off
past. There is no 'far- off, and no 'near'. All are equally present at all
times and in all spaces; the difficulty is with our vehicles, and not with that
all-embracing changeless life. All becomes more and more intelligible and more
peace-giving as we think of that Consciousness, in which is no 'before' and no
'after', no 'past' and no 'future'. We begin to feel that these things are but
the illusion, the limitations, imposed upon us by our own sheaths, necessary
until our powers are evolved and at our service. We live unconsciously in this
mighty Consciousness in which everything is eternally present, and we dimly
feel that if we could live consciously in that Eternal there were peace. I know
of nothing that can more give to the events of life their true proportion than
this idea of a Consciousness in which everything is present from the beginning,
in which indeed there is no beginning and no ending. We learn that there is
nothing terrible and nothing which is more than relatively sorrowful; and in
that lesson is the beginning of a true peace, which in due course shall
brighten into joy.
END
OF THIS BOOK
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