Fear Forgetting

What do I fear?

I fear forgetting.

Not death. Not in the way the young speak of it. Death is just a turn in the trail. A return. But forgetting… that is a colder thing.

I fear the slow erosion of meaning, the way the river wears the sharpness from a stone or how the mind no longer wonders why the bird sings, when it has indulged in meaningless music.

I fear the speed of things. The way they come fast and loud, asking for nothing but our attention — not our heart, not our witness.

I fear when we cease to sit long enough to feel the earth breathe under us, or when we stroll past a friend’s grief and visit those who makes us laugh.

I fear a generation who knows how to ask every question, but never waits for the answer.

I fear tools that do not serve the circle, but replace it — that crawl toward our fire with silver tongues, promising light, but knowing no warmth.

I fear that our children may sing songs taught by machines, and never wonder why the cedar sways in rhythm or what the wind meant when it passed through their mother’s hands.

And more than anything, I fear a world where we no longer fear our forgetfulness. Because that will mean we have already forgotten.

Shawn Murtagh

Son. Husband. Father of 4. Programmer. Writer. Seeker of slow wisdom in a world gone mad with speed. Founder of Low Tech Monk.