Memory is the living link to personal freedom.
The first draft of this essay was written at my study in a long sitting at a house in Seattle looking over Lake Union. I remember the drone of Seaplanes beyond the French doors, taking off and landing on Lake Union, a far travelling outer symmetry to my own internal journey into memory. I had carried the image of memory inside me ever since seeing Brian Swimme’s recent film, Journey of the Universe, the previous week, which depicted, with brilliant visual effect, the immense wave forms of the physical and biological world that have travelled not only down to us but through us since the explosive inception of the created world.
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