Memory is a Gift
This morning I woke up and found my 5-year old daughter playing with my wife’s iPhone. She had found her way to WhatsApp and uncovered the record audio function. Her face lit up when she discovered that she could send me instant voice messages. I received 43 little audio messages from her. Telling me how much she loved me, singing random songs, telling me off for telling her off, rambling about other things in her life. Receiving that avalanche of messages was a burst of joy and the perfect way to start my day.
When I got into the office, I opened my Purpose Planner and noted that down in the “Memories Created” section of the monthly spread. Of all the boxes in that reflection panel, I have found this to have the greatest meaning for me. Not philosophies or ideas, but real fleeting moments, whether joyful or poignant, that would otherwise be discarded to the graveyard of time, I now lock into my Purpose Planner for safekeeping.
In many ways, it is also the manifestation of things that I am truly grateful for. Things that have no tangible value besides a flutter of the heart, a belly laugh or a tear to the eye. In the end, who we believe we are, is a product of our memories. Whether we know it or not, our personal truths, values and the way we live our lives is a byproduct of both the memories we keep and those we discard.
By capturing some of these precious moments, I know I have given myself a gift that I can greedily enjoy many years from now, when I open my dusty notebook from 2018 and uncover a long-forgotten memory, that springs up and takes me by the hand, back to a place long since passed.