Lesson 3 Philosophy of Memory

I am a firm believer in the theory which holds that in order to best apply any art it is necessary to know something of the science underlying that particular art. To put it another way, I would say that in order to fully manifest the "how" side of anything, it is well to know something regarding the "why" side of the thing. One who is familiar merely with the "how" side of a thing is apt to become merely an automaton or machine; while the one who seeks only the "why" side, is apt to develop into an impractical theorist incapable of transmitting his knowledge into practical work.

The sane course then is seen to be the proper combination of the "why" and the "how." One, to be efficient, must have an acquaintance with both the "know," and the "know how" phases of the subject before him. The child with its continual cry of "why?" is obeying an instinct which recognizes this principle; while the active youth feels within himself an insistent instinctive demand to learn how to do things, as well as to be told the philosophy of things.

For this reason, I have always felt it incumbent upon me to acquaint my students with something regarding the philosophy of the things which I purposed teaching them to attain, perform, work out, before I laid down the rules of the actual performance. My experience has taught me that a pupil who has at least a general idea of the reason and general philosophy of a subject, will in the end outstrip one who has been merely taught the rules of performance. It would seem that instruction regarding the "why" side tends to prepare the soil for the sowing of the seeds of the "how." Accordingly I shall acquaint the student of these lessons with enough of the philosophy of memory to enable him to intelligently apply the actual working principles of memory culture and training which are given him in this course of instruction. And I earnestly advise each and every student to carefully study such parts of these lessons, and not to pass them over. I do not wish to make of you merely a memory machine—I wish to develop you into a thinking, reasoning individual, with well balanced faculties backed up with an exceptionally good memory, and a knowledge of its laws which will enable you to use it to the best advantage.

But do not imagine that I am asking you to plunge into the depths of metaphysics or theoretical psychology. I am not! I leave these studies to those who have the time and inclination to dally with them, but, as for me I find my time better employed with the more practical phases of the science of the mind. So do not fear, dear students, you will not be asked to wander off into these bye-paths—you will always find your feet on the firm, sound, broad highway.

I shall not even attempt to theorize over the actual, nature of the memory. As a matter of fact, no one really knows this, though many theorize regarding it. The fact is that no one can ever explain just what memory is, in itself, without first explaining just what Mind is—and that is beyond the power of the reason of man to accomplish.

Nor shall I attempt to dogmatize regarding the relation between mind and brain—I shall let the opposing factions continue their dispute regarding this point, undisturbed by me. The student may hold to either view, so far as practical results are concerned, for my system is workable under any theory, as it depends upon neither for its efficacy.

And, I advise my students to pass over these ultimate questions, and confine themselves to the workable philosophy of memory which I shall now present to them. For my philosophy of memory is essentially a "working philosophy"—neither more nor less. It is scientific, rather than metaphysical. Edison spends but little time speculating over what electricity really is in itself, but he has his own working philosophy regarding it which he turns to practical account. Neither did Newton speculate regarding the ultimate nature of Gravitation—he contented himself with discovering its laws of operation. And we shall follow this course in considering the philosophy of memory. We shall consider its working laws, that we may then apply the same in operating its machinery.

Following a favorite figurative illustration of my own, I ask the student to accustom himself to thinking of the memory as a kind of phonograph machine. But this phonograph machine is far more complex than the ones with which we are familiar. Yet the mental image of the one will help you to understand the other, and to operate its machinery lo the best advantage.

What does our memory phonograph do? In the first place it receives impressions from the senses (and from thought-processes) and a record is thus formed. In the second place, it files away these records, with more or less care, and with a certain degree of attempt to index and cross-index them, so that they may be found if needed later. In the third place, it has its hidden wonderful machinery for finding these stored away records, and then bringing them into the field of consciousness in a manner similar to reproduction of recorded sounds by the ordinary phonograph.

The similarity between the phonograph and the memory is startling, and it extends even to many small details, as you will perceive later on. A clear perception of this resemblance will aid you wonderfully in cultivating the memory. Strange to say, the clear perception of the nature of the working of the memory machinery seems to act as a lubricant to the machinery itself. I have known students to manifest a decided improvement in memory immediately after the first lesson in which they grasped this mental picture of the memory machinery—the picture of the recording and reproducing machinery of memory. You, personally, may have a like experience. At any rate, you will find it easier to apply the rules of memory culture. This is much better than speculating regarding the ultimate nature of mind, or its actual relation to the brain, is it not?

One of the first objections to the above illustration or figure of speech which occurs to the reasoning student is that while the phonograph registers and records all sounds reaching it, the memory seems to register and record only a few of the many impressions reaching it from the outside world. He arrives at this conclusion by reason of his personal experience that he can remember only a small portion of the impressions which have undoubtedly reached his mind. But he is mistaken here, for the facts of psychology do not bear out his first opinion.

It is true that there are many impressions reaching the mind which make such a faint record that it is extremely improbable that they will ever be reproduced under normal circumstances. But it is a fact of psychology that every impression reaching the mind makes its record on the memory, faint though it be in many instances.

And it is also a fact that many of these overlooked impressions have made even a sharp record, as is evidenced by the fact that after that, even when we are unable to recall an idea or other impression, we really have a dim recollection of it; for otherwise we should not even think of trying to recall it, nor would we be able to recognize it as a past impression when it finally presents itself. Sometimes this shadow of memory (for such it may be considered) is very dim—a very shadow of a shadow, so to speak—and again it is tantalizingly near to consciousness. A large portion of the things which we seem to "almost remember," abide in this shadowy way. An important point in this connection is that the fact that there is a shadow is an indication that the reality behind the shadow is in existence, and that by proper effort it may be brought into the field of consciousness.

As we proceed in these lessons we shall see that the three vital points in the cultivation of a good memory are as follows: (1) the securing of good, strong, clear impressions; (2) the systematic arrangement of the records, and the scientific indexing and cross-indexing of the records; and (3) the adjusting of the machinery of reproduction by means of the will. These three points are all important, and I shall call your attention to them frequently, and shall invite you to consider them from a variety of angles. You would do well to fix them firmly in your mind at this stage of your study, for by so doing you will tend to automatically classify the facts belonging to each point as they arise in the lessons.

[Note: pages 30-31 are duplicated in the original scan.]

The original impression depends for its strength, depth and clearness upon the amount of attention given at the time of the impression. And, as attention frequently depends upon interest, it follows that the more interest we bestow upon a thing the greater the strength of the impression upon the memory, and, as a consequence, the greater degree of ease in reproduction in the future. For it is an established fact of psychology that the more strongly impressed ideas are more easily remembered than the less strong ones. In this connection, you should also remember that an impression originally weak may be strengthened by bringing it before the conscious attention by memory reproduction. Here is one of the exceptions to the phonograph illustration, for in the case of the phonograph each reproduction tends to wear out the record, whereas in the case of the memory each reproduction deepens the original impression and facilitates its subsequent reproduction.

It has been claimed by eminent authorities that if a person were to pay marked attention to everything that reached his senses, he would be able to remember distinctly every item of his experience. Such a degree of attention, of course, would require practice and training of the will, for attention is a distinct act of the will—its most marked action, in fact.

But it would be the veriest folly for any one to attempt to attend so fixedly to every item of his experience, for it would not only present his proper understanding of the principal things of life, but would also burden his memory with distinct images of unimportant and trivial things. In the life of the active man of today, with its insistent demand for specialization, such a course would be actually disadvantageous, although perfectly possible in theory, Instead, the attention should be devoted to the important things of experience, particularly along the lines of the particular specialty favored by the person.

For the reason just mentioned, I have always frowned upon the idea that the proper way to improve the memory is to train it to commit useless and foolish words or things. These things not only unduly strain the interest and attention, but choke up the memory with a lot of trash and junk, and result in harm rather than good. Many of the freak-memory persons who give public exhibitions of their "wonderful power" have lost much of their original reasoning and constructive power. They have gone against nature, instead of with her. They have duplicated the folly of the "strong men" who have developed certain muscles of the body to an abnormal degree, but have impaired their general health and normal muscular ability by reason of their excesses and misdirected perseverance. The safe rule is to keep close to nature, and to proceed along the channels she has laid out for us. A word to the wise is sufficient—or at least should be so.

 

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