Monday 30 August 2021

Computer Down

           For the three weeks leading up to the writing of my previous post, I was without a computer; it had simply died. It took three weeks to research, buy and have installed, the present model. Elsewhere, I have described that period as one resembling being in a state dementia. I am going to address the memory of that experience again with the intention of deepening my understanding of the sense of loss I felt, and how that apparent loss could shape what is yet to come.

          Very largely, I use my computer as a word processor and filing cabinet. Almost all that is stored in the memory banks relates to the studies I have carried out over the years on my internal life. When I discovered that I no longer had access to that store, I felt an intense sense of grief for the loss for my memory. A very large part of what I thought to be me was gone. I don't know whether sufferers of dementia feel that way, and I would not choose to downplay their experiences in any way. I do not suffer from dementia and am, therefore, unable to relate directly to those who do. 

          When I looked into the emptiness of where my memory had resided, and at the blank screen staring at me from my desk top, I had to admit that I --- some essential awareness of me --- was still alive and functioning. As time passed, that very obvious conclusion took on a new, or perhaps rediscovered, meaning. Not only am I decidedly not my body, my thoughts or my emotions, but neither am I my memories.

          Although I could no longer recall the details of what I had written over the years, I was still 'me'. What was also puzzling was that when asked by my installer what the names of some of my files and folders were, I could not answer. The fact is that when I look for the information I need, I do not 'see' the file name as meaning very much in relation to its contents. What I 'see' is a word-shape. And how does one communicate the 'shape' of a word devoid of any intellectual content? It is similar to the experience of viewing a word and knowing it has been spelled incorrectly, without actually knowing at first inspection what is wrong. It is simply a series of almost, but not quite, familiar shapes. 

          I hope this experience will stay with me, and that I will never again build that same kind of associative, almost egoistic, bond with my computer. For now I am determined to ensure that I update --- at frequent intervals --- my external hard drive. I have to say that it's good to have a working computer again!


4 comments:

  1. You have described perfectly my few experiences with data loss, or at least inaccessability, when my computers have crashed over the years. And, you have reminded me that I need to back up to my external drives soon! (As in, today!)

    Understand your idea about word shapes, as well.

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    1. Hello Martha,

      It was certainly regrettable that I allowed my attention to wander with respect to the external hard drive issue. I do find the idea of word shapes interesting. I wish I understood what that might say about how we cognize written information of all sorts.

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  2. Hi Tom,,
    Interesting ideas involved in how we persist in relation to loss of stored memories. Bit like the grief of bush fire or flood or any disaster victims sudden losses of treasured photos , books, files and things of one kind or another. Being in the world though is more than this as in another dimension, but nevertheless recalling or in trying to recall fading memories would seem inseparable from life challenges. Best wishes

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    1. Hi Lindsay,

      Nice to hear from you. Reading about your other examples of memory loss makes me realise how narrow our range of consciousness appears to be.

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