Forget Me Not

“Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the best even of their blunders.” -Frederich Nietzsche

Human nature usually supposes that ignorance is bliss. There is comfort in not knowing. Arguably, this comfort might be the source of happiness, or can be viewed as an impending tragedy. The mind plays tricks on us, and the more you know, the more enlightened you become. And when you become enlightened by the truth, pangs of frustration might arise, for what you may think as bliss, is not bliss at all. Then, you tell yourself, it was even better that I did not know. I was happy and peaceful. Now, I have become a train wreck with knowledge of betrayal and frustration.

“How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;
Labour and rest, that equal periods keep[…];”

-Alexander Pope

I suppose memory would choose to remember what was joyous, instead of lachrymose. Sometimes, this is what seems to work: to be hopeful in the midst of the unpromising outcome. To say to oneself: “Impossible is the possible not yet done.” Memories are filtered that way. Remembering is easy. Forgetting takes a lot of hard work. And when happiness sinks in, expect that somewhere in there, a memory has been put in the bin of forgetfulness.

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Photo Source: Forget me not by Asya Schween