Forgetting to Remember, Remembering to Forget

I often say, “I forgot to remember.” Years ago, remembering wasn’t a problem, but with damage to one minuscule nerve, being able to simultaneously process all the things I want simply isn’t as easy as it used to be. So, instead of saying, “I forgot,” I say, “I forgot to remember.” It’s kinder and gentler.

There are so many things we “forget to remember.”

We “forget to remember” to slow down.
We  “forget to remember” our value.
We “forget to remember” that not everything can be “fixed” or neatly filed away, and that’s okay.
We “forget to remember” that others will change as they evolve, based on their needs and desires.
We “forget to remember” that we can choose to be who we want, whether we’re eighteen or eighty.
We “forget to remember, “when we’re young and parenting, that our children will grow up—in the blink of an eye.
We “forget to remember” to truly see what’s right in front of us instead of seeking the next best thing.
We “forget to remember” that beating ourselves up does not change yesterday; it simply gives more power to the past.
We “forget to remember” that, in our growing up years, we might have learned to say one thing (or say nothing) to keep the peace, keep someone happy, keep a storm from erupting—but felt something very different.

Sometimes we need to “remember to forget,” which is even tougher because it requires the work of being fully at peace with yesterdays in order to be fully at peace with today. “Remembering to forget” does not make that situation, experience, or feeling cease to exist. It simply empowers you to not let it rule your life.

What if you “remember to forget” that you were once an angry person (or a sad person or lonely person) and live in the moment?
What if you “remember to forget” the hurt you’ve felt because you know that focusing on that doesn’t change the outcome?
What if you “remember to forget” past mistakes and then never “forget to remember” how not to make them again?

I remember a Sunday afternoon after church, about five years ago, sitting on the deck with my husband, his sister, brother-in-law, and their two children. My grandson, Ethan, now taller than me, wanted to show his aunt how high his plane could fly. This wasn’t a state-of-the-art, high-tech, remote-controlled aircraft—it was a simple, old-fashioned one made out of balsa. The plane worked great and promptly landed in a very high tree! What took place next was so cool—all four children attempted various ways to get it out of the tree—from shooting foam arrows at it to spraying the hose at full force, all to no avail. It went on for a while until they decided that the plane would eventually have to simply fall out of the tree.

We often “forget to remember” the simple joys of life–toys that don’t have batteries or chargers, creatively figuring out how to solve a problem, sitting at a table on a beautiful Sunday afternoon with people we care about.

We frequently, too, “forget to remember” that there are times when you just have to let whatever you’re worried about fall when it’s ready.

Right now, who you are is a tapestry woven from all your days before this moment. You are a breathtaking spirit made up of all your experiences, with immeasurable possibilities.

What will you do with your next 24 hours?
Being aware of your limited time, what will you “remember to forget”?
More importantly, what will you vow to never “forget to remember”?


©peace full®/intentional living, 2013-2022

Please help spread the word of peace full home™.
Follow PFH on Facebook:



4 thoughts on “Forgetting to Remember, Remembering to Forget

  1. Love this article! What an interesting concept of something “falling when it’s ready”. I had never thought of applying that concept to life events … thanks for the insight. Love you loads❤️


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s