I have a difficult time with memory, or the past. I don't get any pleasure from my own memories, nor anyone else's. I don't like old photographs. Times past are full of regret: in my own case that I didn't do more; in other's that I wasn't there with them. And there is nothing I can do about either.
Lord Jesus in the night in which he was betrayed took bread;
and when he had given thanks,
he brake it, and said,
This is my body, which is for you:
this do in remembrance of me.
In like manner also the cup, after supper, saying,
This cup is the new covenant in my blood:
this do, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of me
To me, the past is full of darkness, lies, broken promises, or of times when things were better due to my absence (or things are now worse due to my presence), or things were bad due to my presence. All this makes life very difficult and painful, as our whole existence is based on what has already occurred, and our remembrance is what makes things real. I don't really see a place for me in all of this, past or present.
Memory has become a more tangible since becoming a Christian; since becoming involved in Sacramental worship.
In the Eucharist, we are asked "to do this in remembrance of me," a physical act to remember. The feelings involved in Communion are strong, deep and vivid.
I often think what my younger self would make of me now.