WHY WE DO NOT REMEMBER
The loss of memory between incarnations and the failure to now recall
any of our experiences previous to the present physical plane life has
sometimes been cited as a negative kind of evidence against the
hypothesis of rebirth. The point could not be made, however, by one who
has studied the matter because close scrutiny will show that the loss of
memory is a necessary part of reincarnation. The fact that we do not
remember is in perfect harmony with the principles of evolution. Indeed,
the close student of the subject would be very much surprised if we
could normally remember, because he does not get far until he sees, not
only why we do not remember past incarnations but why we should not
remember them.
The very nature of the evolutionary work to be done by reincarnation
necessitates a sacrifice of memory. One useful purpose of the
confinement of consciousness in matter, through the use of a physical
body, is that it narrows the scope of consciousness and thereby
increases its efficiency. The consciousness of the ego sweeps over a
vast range, forward and backward, including all past incarnations. But
the limitation of matter which compels consciousness to be expressed
through a physical body, focuses the attention on the evolutionary work
immediately in hand. The brain becomes the instrument of consciousness
but also, fortunately, the limitation of consciousness. If there were
not loss of memory our minds would now range over the adventures of
thousands of years in the past. It would encompass a vast drama with
countless loves and hates, of many lives filled with pathos and tragedy.
To thus distract the mind from the present life would retard our
progress. When one is alone and in a secluded place one can think better
and accomplish more than when in the midst of turbulent scenes and
throngs of people. When there is less to think about the thinking is
more effective. It is necessary to restrict the consciousness and limit
the mind to the present life in order to get the most satisfactory
results. The same truth is embodied in that old saying that whoever is
jack of all trades is master of none. Concentration alone can produce
satisfactory results. If we would master the lessons of this life we
must not take other lives within the field of consciousness. The very
process of reincarnation is a coming out of the general into the
particular, with the consequent narrowing of consciousness.
We should keep in mind the fact that our true and permanent life is in
the causal body, and on the mental plane, and that there, alone, is
unbroken memory possible. The descent into matter in each incarnation is
also beyond reach of the brain memory, of course. Getting new bodies is
the working out of natural law even as instinct works in animals. The
whole animal kingdom, lacking the reasoning power of man, nevertheless
adapts means to ends with unerring accuracy and with a depth of wisdom
that is beyond our comprehension. And so is human evolution directed by
impelling forces that are unknown to our waking consciousness. But our
waking consciousness is only a small part of our consciousness--that
fragment of it that can be expressed through the physical brain. The
physical brain is a limitation of consciousness, and therefore of
memory, as certainly as a mountain range is a limitation of sight and
prevents one's knowing what lies beyond it. In higher realms we do know
our wider life and vaster consciousness that includes the memory of our
past incarnations. But when we come downward into another incarnation it
is as though we were descending in a narrow vale within mountain ranges
that stand between us and the wider world. Memory is dependent on things
not within the control of the will. Memory often fails to establish
facts which we wish to recall. We know, for example, the name of a
certain person. There is no doubt that we know it and yet it is
impossible to remember it at will. Tomorrow it will flash upon us, but
we cannot remember it now, try as we may. Now, if memory fails to
produce its record even when we have a mental picture of just how that
person looks, and know just where we have met him, it is certainly not
remarkable that with no such immediate connection with our last
incarnation we fail to recall it. It was perhaps in another part of the
world, and in another civilization, and is separated from us by the long
interval between incarnations. Of course memory likewise fails to
produce that record. But all of our past experiences are within the
soul, just as the records of all of the experiences of this life are in
the mind whether we can connect them with the present moment or not.
But it may be asked why it is that, if we do not remember events that
have occurred in past lives and people we have seen before, we do not at
least now have a knowledge of the facts previously familiar to us. What
the soul gains from incarnation to incarnation is not concrete facts but
something higher and far more valuable. It gains the essence of facts
which gives the understanding of their true relationship; and this is
the thing we call good judgment or common-sense. A man does not succeed
in business because he knows a lot of facts, but because he knows what
to do with the facts. An encyclopedia is full of facts but it cannot run
a business. Every theorist and dreamer is loaded with facts. The
successful man is the one with balance and judgment.
It might seem on first thought that one who has been a carpenter in a
previous incarnation should have no need to learn the name and use of a
saw, or one who has been a skillful penman to learn slowly to hold the
pen and fashion the letters. But we must remember that the old soul is
now breaking in a new physical instrument with which to express itself
and that while it will be able to use all the skill it has previously
evolved, its full expression must await the time when the new instrument
has been brought into responsive action.
The situation might be fairly illustrated by the case of a stenographer
who is still using the original typewriter, in some remote corner of the
earth, and who has not even seen or heard of any of the remarkable
improvements made in such machines in the last thirty years. If his old
machine were suddenly taken from him and a model of the present year
were put in its place, it is obvious that he could at first make little
use of it--not because he has no knowledge but because he must become
accustomed to the new machine before he can express himself through it.
It would have mechanism and appliances that he could not immediately
manage. Let us imagine also that all the characters are in a foreign
language which must be mastered before the machine can be used. But the
difficulties are not great enough yet for a fair illustration. We must
also suppose that it is a living thing, with moods and emotions, and
that it must pass through stages of growth comparable to infancy and
youth. Under these handicaps it would be certain that the stenographer
would appear to have very little knowledge and to possess little skill.
Yet as a matter of fact it is merely the conditions that temporarily
prevent him from expressing his wisdom and skill.
The gist of knowledge gained in the past represents skill that has no
dependence whatever upon brain memory. If a man should suffer a lapse of
memory, as sometimes happens, and wander about unable to give his name
or place of residence, such loss of memory does not prevent him using
any skill he may have evolved. If he is an athlete he may not know in
what gymnasium he evolved his great strength, but he can use it just as
effectively regardless of the absence of memory.
One who has been a skillful penman brings all his skill to the new
incarnation but of course the new body must be trained to hold the pen
and form the letters. Every public school teacher knows that one child
will quickly learn that and soon become a competent penman while another
can by no possibility exhibit skill in that particular art. The reason
is that one has previously evolved his skill and the other has not, and
may not, for several more incarnations.
It is sometimes objected that by the hypothesis of reincarnation we are
required to go over the same ground again and again and learn what we
have previously learned. But the criticism has no foundation in fact.
There is undoubtedly some necessary recapitulation in the early part of
the incarnation, just as there may be in the early part of a school
term. But in the main we are thrown into new conditions which are
calculated to develop additional faculties. We return to the same
material world but we find it with a higher form of civilization than
when we were here before. Never before have we who are now here seen a
civilization like this, with its age of iron and steam and electricity,
with its marvelous opportunities for developing the mechanical faculty
in human nature. And that is another bit of evidence of the beauty and
utility of the evolutionary scheme. We come back always to greater
opportunities than we have yet known.
It is not only clear that the failure to remember the past has nothing
to do with our ability to use the skill and wisdom we have previously
evolved but it is equally obvious that it is the best of good fortune
that we cannot remember the past. If we could do so that memory would
keep alive the personal antagonisms of past reincarnations. Nobody will
deny that we have plenty of them in this incarnation or that the world
would be the better if we could bury some of the present antagonisms in
a like oblivion. If all quarreling neighbors were to suddenly lose
memory of their feuds it would be an undeniable advantage to everybody
concerned.
Nature's wisdom in veiling the past from us can be understood by
observing the pernicious effects of remembering too long the blunders
people make in this incarnation. Take the case of a very young man who
has charge of his employer's money and who, finding himself pressed for
ready cash, makes the grave mistake of "borrowing" a hundred dollars
without his employer's knowledge and consent. The young man really
believes he is borrowing it and knows just where the money is to come
from to replace it soon, and he thinks nobody but himself will ever know
anything about it. But to his consternation the money that was due him
in a few days cannot be collected in time and an unexpected examination
of his books leads to his arrest for embezzlement. He is convicted,
sent to prison for a year, and returns a marked man. Thoughtless
society closes its doors against him. He seeks employment in vain.
Nobody wants an ex-convict. He explains that he had no criminal intent
and that he really was guilty of only an indiscretion and that he paid
back the money later. But the world is too busy to listen. It sees only
the court record, and that was against him. The public forgets, or never
knows, the extenuating circumstances. But it never forgets two
things--the verdict of guilty and the prison. The young man would almost
give his life for a chance to wipe it all out, but it is impossible. It
stands against him for life. But nature is wise. She does not permit our
vicious traits to extend their injury too far. If we could remember from
incarnation to incarnation that man's misfortune might afflict him for
thousands of years. But by the wise plan of closing all accounts at the
end of each incarnation the mischief of remembering the blunders of
others comes to an end. In the next incarnation all start with clear
records again.
One of the objections that one sometimes hears against reincarnation is
that it seems to separate us for long periods, if not forever, and that
even when we meet those we have previously known and loved, there is no
memory of the past. The answer to the first point is that the separation
is wholly on the lower planes and that the time spent on the higher
planes is often twenty times that given to the lower. Separation is, of
course, unavoidable on the physical plane, even where people live
together in the same home. The average man spends most of the day at
his office and sleeps about eight hours during the twenty-four. He is
really separated from his family most of the time. But there is no such
separation on higher planes and there is spent most of the whole period
of evolution. The second point--that we do not now have the pleasure of
knowing that our friends are those we knew and loved before--is not an
important one. What is really important is that we again have them. If
the ties of affection have been strong between us in the past there will
be instant friendship when we meet for the first time in this
incarnation. Those with strong heart ties are certain to be drawn into
very close association life after life. It has been observed through the
investigations that egos have been husband and wife, or parent and
child, again and again. The probability of such close relationships
depends upon the strength of the ties of affection. But if such real
bond between the souls is lacking the mere fact that they now have
family relationships is no guarantee of such future intimate
association. When two souls have strong ties arising out of past
association the failure to remember that incarnation does not in the
least weaken the ties. But it does mercifully hide the past contentions
that are to be found in nearly all lives.
The failure to remember previous incarnations will be more clearly
understood if we now give some thought to the fact that the personality
here on the material plane is only a fragment of the whole consciousness
of the soul. As we come down into lower planes from the mental world
each grosser grade of matter through which the ego expresses itself is a
limitation of consciousness. On the astral plane each of us, whatever he
may be here, is more alive and enjoys an actual extension of
consciousness. On the mental plane he has enormously greater wisdom than
here, with a still further extension of consciousness that is quite
beyond the present comprehension of the brain intelligence.
To put it differently, the ego really does not come into incarnation at
all. It merely sends outward a ray from itself--a mere fragment of
itself, as a man might put his hand down into the water of a shallow
stream to gather bits of ore from which gold can be obtained. So the ego
puts a finger, only, down into denser matter to get the general
experience that can be transmuted into the gold of wisdom and skill.
That finger of the ego, that we know as the personality, gathers the
experience and then it is withdrawn into the ego. During the incarnation
the personality has been animated by only a little of the ego's vast
intelligence and that is why it blunders so often. But, veiled in dense
matter, not much of the ego's consciousness can reach it.
The relationship between the ego and the personality may be illustrated
by that which exists between the brain consciousness and that of the
finger-tip. The difference, of course, is great. The finger tip cannot
see of hear or taste or smell. It is limited to one sense--touch. But it
is a form of consciousness, and it can get experience and pass it on to
the brain consciousness. A man may be addressing an audience and see
some substance on the table before him. It may be sand or sugar. Without
interrupting his lecture he can put down his finger and get at the truth
about the matter. The finger-tip gets the information and passes it on
to the brain consciousness. Meantime there has been no pause in the
discourse. Not a phrase nor a word nor the shading of a thought has been
missed. The intellectual life went on in its completeness while the ray
of intelligence sent down in the finger-tip got and reported the fact as
it was. Just so the life of the ego--the true self of each of us--goes
forward on its home plane while the personality here gropes for its
harvest of experience. Some of those experiences will be painful to the
personality, and the event will seem tragic here, but it will be a
passing incident to the ego. In the illustration just used the substance
on the table may prove to be neither sand nor sugar, but tiny bits of
glass. Some of the sharp points may penetrate the finger and pain
follows. To the finger-tip consciousness it is a blinding flash of
distress that is overwhelming. But to the brain consciousness it is a
trivial incident. And thus it is with most of our painful experiences
here. They do a useful work in our evolution and they are trifling
incidents to the consciousness of the ego.
The personality finishes its work and perishes, in the sense that it is
drawn up and incorporated in the ego. Most people identify themselves so
fully with the personality that its loss seems like a tragedy to them.
But that feeling will trouble them no longer when the ego is understood
to be the real self. We might say that the relationship between the ego
and the personality is like that between man and child. Childhood will
perish but only to be merged into manhood. When we look at that
transformation from the viewpoint of the man it is quite satisfactory.
But if looked at from the viewpoint of the child it may look appalling.
If you should say to your son of three summers, "My child, the time will
come when all these beautiful toys will be broken and lost and your
little playmates will see you no more," you might cause him much
distress. It would seem to his limited child consciousness nothing less
than a tragic destruction of what makes life worth while. But when he
reaches manhood he will look back with a smile to the trivial things of
those early days. If there is something in his childhood of real,
permanent value, it will persist in manhood. All the trivial and
transient will have disappeared and he will be pleased that it is so,
for manhood is the real life of the personality as the ego is the real
self.
As the memory of childhood lives in the brain of the man, so the memory
of all the hundreds of incarnations persists in the causal body and is
an eternal possession of the ego. When we are sufficiently evolved to
raise the consciousness to the level of the causal body, while still
living on the physical plane, as some people are now able to do, we
shall thus temporarily recover the memory of past lives. When that time
comes, however, the soul is sufficiently advanced to use such wider
knowledge without injury to itself or others.