Reclaiming Mnemosyne, The Greek Goddess of Memory

In an age of speed, distraction, and relentless reinvention, 

Mnemosyne (nuh-MAH-suh-nee), the ancient Greek Goddess of Memory, waits for us. 

Mnemosyne was the mother of the nine muses. 

She gave birth not in pain but in prophecy. 

Each child arrived as a whisper of eternal wisdom. 

A vision given voice through poetry, music, dance, history, 

philosophy, comedy, tragedy, science, and sacred hymns. 

In the ancient world, Mnemosyne was the Source. 

Nothing could be remembered without her. 

Nothing could be passed on. 

Mnemosyne was the first eyewitness, calling forth a human truth: 

Nothing can endure without the grace of remembrance, 

And nothing remembered is ever truly gone, 

For memory is the breath that keeps the soul of things alive. 

Yet, in our modern world, Mnemosyne has been all but forgotten. 

And with her, much of our ancient wisdom has been silenced. 

Forgetting has become a form of currency; the less we remember, 

the easier we are to mold, to sell to, to control. 

Forgetting serves systems of control that thrive on disconnection. 

Forgetting severs us from our personal and cultural histories, 

And from one another. 

But Mnemosyne whispers to us a way back home. 

To honor her is to stop the forgetting. 

To honor her is a radical act of resistance. 

When we remember, we begin to see a pattern. 

When we remember, we begin to see what we have been told to normalize. 

When we remember together, we become a force capable of birthing new worlds. 

So, let us listen to Mnemosyne once again, 

Let us listen and ask: 

What have I been taught to forget? 

What does it mean if I choose to remember, anyway? 

Perhaps it means standing beside our children and vowing: 

I will not pass on the lie. 

I will tell you what they told me to forget. 

Perhaps it means facing our elders and saying: 

I see now what you were forced to bury. 

I will not blame you, but I will not carry your silence either. 

Perhaps, above all, it means turning inward, 

Facing our shadows and reclaiming the soul fragments 

that were cast away: our sacred rage, our silent sorrow. 

But perhaps most importantly, it means remembering our ability to love. 

That unbroken thread that still pulses beneath it all. 

The Greek word for love is Eros, that divine force of longing and creative union, 

when honored, inspires individuals and civilizations away from war 

and towards peace, beauty, and human flourishing. 

Through the centuries, some have tried to help us remember this ancient truth. 

In the last century, the Russian writer, Leo Tolstoy, wrote: 

“All I understand, I understand because I love.” 

Let us reclaim this sacred art of remembering. 

Let us feel its power, not by seeking power over others, but by remembering, 

the potent energy of love, which sometimes feels ineffable but always feels palpable. 

- Caren Adorni