I've always had a bad memory

{letter four: Hermit & Moon}

It’s the ease with which I forget myself, that keeps me writing.

Photography as external memory

Yesterday, I went back through my photos from 2024, as I suggested we all do in my last letter, and was genuinely astonished by the year I had. Not just because it was so full of incredible trips and amazing new friendships, but because I had forgotten most of it. As I went back through the thousands of photographs I’d taken on my phone, it was like a scene from a film when a character with amnesia suddenly remembers who they are.

I’ve known this about myself for a long time; I don’t have a good memory. My step-father can remember everything from the past, down to the exit number on the highway where the Cracker Barrel we like to stop at is. I bet he would know who came to my wedding 17 years ago if I asked him. I can’t remember that I got a new tattoo or wrote and published a whole book last year without something to remind me. I often worry that some terrible crime will happen with me as a witness and I will be at a loss; “Sorry officer, I have no idea where I was on that Friday.” It’s a real source of anxiety for me.

But this is why I document the world the way I do; as a gift for my future self. As a way to communicate through time and construct a life I love to look back on. Photographs are not just static moments for me, they carry entire seasons of my identity with them. They are emotional time capsules, evoking chains of memories, from the scent of Camel Lights to the taste of a first kiss.

Poetry as portal

When I began to write poetry in 2018, I discovered a new way to access my memories. When I write (by hand especially), I will often stumble upon some ancient internal doorway, and an old, home movie-style memory will begin to play as I write. Places and people I’d long forgotten would appear on the page before me, complete with last names and textural details I never would’ve remembered if you’d just asked me.

Magical portals to another time.

Writing Exercise: Scrying the photograph

“Scrying involves gazing into a medium, hoping to receive significant messages or visions that could offer personal guidance, prophecy, revelation, or inspiration.” - Wikipedia

I first did an exercise like this in a workshop with the incredible poet and ceremonialist, Danielle Vogel - definitely check her out and take a class with her if you can!

• Choose two photographs, yours or two that you find intriguing (I saved some interesting ones in this gallery on Pinterest if you want some inspo)

• and begin by simply describing the first photograph in great detail.

• As you describe it, are there feelings or knowings or memories that come up for you? Write to those, too.

• When you have done that, focus on the other photograph and do it again.

• Once you’ve done that, place the photographs side by side, and write to the space between them. What is the story that exists there? Why did you choose these two photographs? What do they say about you?

My attempt at “Scrying the photograph” - Sally Mann

Feel free to skip this if you’re not interested in it! I just wanted to be vulnerable and show you my unedited, messy, process, too <3

Sally Mann “Yard Eggs” 1991

Description

Her hat is filled with onions, no eggs.

her hair caught in the briar patch.

She rests her eyes.

The barn is white as her dress

and insects climb her bare legs.

Her mother, a photographer,

has told her to tilt her chin to the left.

//

Letting it speak to me

The year is 1991. I am 10. Her age- I am her am I not? Standing on the farm alone being used as a prop. A child with her hair like snakes and hands hidden in her pockets. The cows were white in my dream, unhorned. The barn, black and loud with machine sounds.

My father’s hands are black with oil and I am starving for something more than Gatorade and pizza from Casey’s. I am a child already aware my survival depends on posing, on standing still in the right light and smiling.

I’d love to see your poems or hear how this exercise went for you in the comments or join the chat!

Our next Zoom writing session is Saturday, June 11th at Noon Eastern. If you’d like to join us, make sure to become a paid subscriber before the 11th to ensure you get the Zoom link.

Thank you for being here, friends. It means the world to me.