Memory as the Mirror of the Absolute
What we call reality may be less solid than it appears. Every sound, sight, and sensation dissolves almost as quickly as it arises, leaving only the faint residue of memory to claim that anything happened at all. Existence itself feels dreamlike when examined closely: shifting, impermanent, yet strangely coherent—like a page rewritten by an unseen author each moment.
Memory is the keeper of this dream. It builds continuity from fragments, stitching together the illusion of permanence where none truly exists. What we call “the world” is less a physical stage than a reflection—abstract, fluid, a hologram shimmering on the screen of awareness. To mistake this reflection for the ultimate is to confuse the shadow for the light that casts it.
The most high, the unconditioned source beyond all appearances, does not require memory. It is that which precedes storage, recall, or even perception. Yet within its infinite stillness arises the dream we name reality. This dream is neither random nor meaningless; it serves as a mirror through which the Absolute contemplates itself. Every event, every thought, every fleeting sensation is nothing more than the play of memory echoing back to the One who never forgets because It has never known separation.
To recognize life as memory’s echo is not to diminish its beauty, but to free oneself from the weight of taking it as final. The dream is not false in the sense of being meaningless; it is false only in being mistaken for the whole. What is real lies in that silent clarity from which both memory and dream emerge.
Awakening, then, is the gentle turning of attention from the flickering reflection to the brilliance of the source. It is the realization that the dream was always sacred, but never ultimate.
Morgan O. Smith
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Morgan O. Smith 