The Shape of Memory – A Conversation Between Peter Witz and Dr. Graves

Peter Witz: Dr. Graves, I’ve come to believe that memory is not what we think it is. We imagine it as a kind of archive—neat, neutral, untouched by time. But when I look closely, I find my memories shifting. Recasting. Rewriting. And I wonder: if memory shapes who we are… and memory changes, then so do we.

Dr. Graves: An essential observation, Peter. Memory is not a recording—it’s a living script. Every time we recall an event, we don’t just observe it—we interact with it. We brush it with today’s emotions, today’s logic. We reframe. We edit. What you remember is not the past—it is your relationship to it.

Peter Witz: So memory isn’t just subjective—it’s collaborative. It’s a story told by multiple selves: the one who lived it, the one who remembers it, and the one who needs it to mean something now.

Dr. Graves: Precisely. And these selves are rarely in agreement. The mind seeks consistency. The heart seeks comfort. The ego seeks control. Memory becomes a negotiation between what happened and what we can live with.

Peter Witz: That explains why I sometimes find myself defending memories I’m not even sure are accurate. It’s as if I’ve built parts of my identity on them.

Dr. Graves: You have. We all have. We are not shaped by events—we are shaped by the meaning we extract from them. And that meaning comes from memory. But here’s the paradox: just because a memory is distorted, doesn’t mean it’s meaningless. It may reveal more about who we are than the raw event ever could.

Peter Witz: Then perhaps memory is not about truth—it’s about integration. We remember to make sense of ourselves, not to document history.

Dr. Graves: Beautifully said, Peter. And this is why memory is both powerful and dangerous. When distorted, it can trap us in stories of shame, guilt, or victimhood. But when tended to, it can become a tool for healing—a mirror that shows not just where we’ve been, but who we’ve become.

Peter Witz: I’ve heard it said that forgetting can be a form of mercy. Do you believe that?

Dr. Graves: Yes—but only if forgetting is conscious. Willful forgetting—letting go—is different from repression. One is an act of awareness. The other, of avoidance. Sometimes, we must forget—not to erase, but to move forward. To stop watering a memory that no longer feeds us.

Peter Witz: That reminds me of an old line: “The past is not dead. It isn’t even past.” But perhaps that’s only true when we carry it unexamined. When we revisit with new eyes, the past becomes something else—an ally, even.

Dr. Graves: Indeed. A wise soul once said: the future is shaped not by what we remember, but by how we remember. And so, the work of memory is not just recall—it is alchemy. It is the turning of experience into wisdom.

Peter Witz: Then maybe we should spend less time asking “What happened?” and more time asking, “What am I ready to understand?”

Dr. Graves: That is the true work, Peter. Not remembering for the sake of the past—but remembering for the sake of who we are becoming.