I’m not a huge collector of trinkets, but when we go somewhere new on vacation, I like to bring back Christmas ornaments—something that we’ll pull from the box each year and say, “Oh, I remember…!” It’s a small investment in souvenirs that promises to yield years of rewards—remember, remember, remember?
This year, I grabbed a Fripp Island “Beach Life” ornament that’s splattered with glitter and kind of tacky. It’s waiting on the counter for Christmas. When I see it, I think of early morning beaches with my husband, a dolphin, wading in warm ocean waters with our family. I remember.
In French, the infinitive verb for remember is “souvenir.” “Souvenir” is also French for the noun “memory,” so you could say, “Te souviens-tu de ce souvenir?” Do you remember this memory? and pull a little souvenir from the folds of your brain. If someone asks, “Do you remember me,” you could say, “Oui! Bien sûr je me souviens de toi!”
Of course I remember you; I’ve been collecting souvenirs of you for years!
My mind’s bookshelves are lined with trinket after trinket, memories I’ve collected and carried with me through too many moves.
Some are dusty and need to be tossed in the corner. Some are tattered and worn smooth, taken down and worried in my palm too many times. There are some souvenirs that should have been pitched long ago and yet I still hold onto them, still reach for them, still believe they mean something more than just the small, cheap moment no one gave a thought of before they handed it to me. I probably ought to forget it.
Mais, je me souviens, je me souviens, je me souviens. (But I remember, I remember, I remember.)
Someday, the shelves of memories will begin to fade. It happens to everyone. No matter how many souvenirs we bring home from vacation, all things are eventually forgotten and discarded, turned to microplastics and dust. So I try to hold on loosely to the things that fade, even these souvenirs, these memories.
Today I spent some time sorting through the various little gifts and doodads that have collected on my desk in the last five years. Some I had to hold a moment and cherish a little before letting go. Others I kept. In the middle of a random day at just the right moment, they spark and leap to life—remember that summer? Remember the drive? Remember the time? Remember the sunrise? Remember the night? And I smile, yes, yes, I remember.
Tu te souviens? Do you remember?
Monday Meditation
Imagine for a moment your mind as a vast library filled with shelves of memories, each a trinket you’ve intentionally or unintentionally collected. In all of creation, you are a member of the only known species who maintains such a vast catalog of volumes such as these.
Wander the shelves. What souvenir isn’t of use to you anymore? Pick up that memory. Hold it a moment. What does it look like? What has made you keep this for so long? Maybe it’s time to set it aside. There’s a bin in the corner. Let’s make some space for fresh souvenirs.
Now, select another memory—a souvenir of a cherished moment. Hold it in the palms of your hands. What does this one look like? Allow yourself to be fully present with this memory. Let it spark joy, reflection, love, peace. Give it a little more space on the shelf to shine, now that the scrappy, tacky trinket you’d been hanging onto is in the trash. When you’re tempted to go dumpster diving into the heap of useless souvenirs in the corner, come back to this one shelf, the shelf filled with compassion, kindness, laughter, grace.
Your mind is a beautiful collection of moments, each one shaping who you are today, and you are the curator of these souvenirs. Collect wisely.
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