Memory

The perfect may be the enemy of the good, but good lies somewhere between mediocrity and obsession.

Good is good enough for the good enough, but not nearly good enough for the obsessed.

Children, amongst others, somehow get all this – unexplained, unspoken. Their obsession is to get the memory right. What they see before them does not count. It is too easy. It is too superficial. Memory enhances reality; it does not diminish either its clarity or its detail. Attention span measures one’s capacity to capture the moment, not the memory. Memory, captured long ago, as a seed, is now a flower, a fruit, a tree. Attention may be broken; memory may not.

Where attention may risk only to fail, attempt after attempt, trial and error, memory, prevailing, risk long ago accepted, cannot fail.

Why begin anything if there is even the remotest possibility that you will not finish. You do not get points for trying, but for finishing. Risk is not risk without the commitment to carry it through.

Michelangelo was slave to his unfinished work.

Memories are built. Observations are made.

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