There are certain elements of the past that encumber our lives; pieces of a bygone era that threaten our ability to adapt and change. While we hold these fragments dear, we deprive ourselves of the opportunity to come to grips with the present.
When we sanctify memory due solely to the nature of remembrance, we consecrate delusion by enshrining an surreality with in the temple of truth. The lack of reality endues the past with a halo most appealing in many eyes, but our worship of such images become graven in our minds, displacing the actual history with the idols of idealized yesterdays.
The room needed for change thus becomes crowded by tchotchekes, our mental attics cluttered with baubles no longer serving an function but that of nostalgia; prohibiting growth by binding us to the departed times and places. For experience to serve, it must not remain a hallowed icon, untouched by reinterpretation, but a material upon which to build a clearer and more truthful present awareness.
Lest we devolve into dust covered memento ourselves, we need to relinquish the cherished relics of the past, and bend our digits to grasp a more solid, if slippery contemporary existence.