What Do We Actually Need to Remember?

Have you ever walked into a room and forgotten why you’re there? It’s a frustrating but universal experience—our memories abandoning us in an instant.

But why does this happen so often? Is it because our minds are failing us, or because we’re overloaded with information never meant to be carried—like trying to hold water in our hands?

When did we start expecting ourselves to remember everything? Think back to our ancestors—they remembered what kept them alive: which plants were poisonous, how to find water, how to return home. They didn’t need to remember appointment times, passwords, or the names of everyone at last month’s networking event.

How many tabs are open right now—on your screen and in your mind? Maybe forgetfulness isn’t a glitch, but a feature—our brain quietly closing the tabs that don’t serve us.

What if forgetting is actually a gift? A reminder that we weren’t designed to hold everything, to be everything, to remember everything.

What would happen if we stopped fighting against our nature and instead designed our lives around what our minds do best? What if we created systems for the things we struggle to remember and saved our mental energy for what truly matters?

What memories are you actually grateful for? Not your passwords or your to-do list, but the smell of your grandmother’s kitchen, the sound of your child’s laughter, the feeling of accomplishment after finishing something difficult.

In a world that demands we remember everything, what would it mean to intentionally choose what we carry?

Maybe the point wasn’t to remember why we walked in, but to remember what really matters once we’re there.

—Everett

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