Do Scanners Have Bad Memories?

This exchange just took place on my bulletin board (at www.barbarasher.com/boards):


Do Scanners Have Bad Memories?

shparks on Sun Oct 26, 2008 4:01

I have always had a crummy memory. I don't recall a lot of specific details about my childhood. I am always forgetting to do things, or forgetting ideas that I had, or forgetting why I walked into a room. I have been wondering if the reason I have so much trouble with remembering things is because, as a Scanner, I always have too many things on my mind to keep straight.

Do other Scanners have that problem?

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skannie on Sun Oct 26, 2008 3:23

Yes, I do. It's otherwise known as absent-mindedness, and is supposed to be a sign of great intelligence
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European Life Blog
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I liked that, especially the 'sign of great intelligence' thing, and try to keep it in mind since I too, have a bad memory. Well, about some things. I do happen to know all the words to all the pop songs ever written.

But I can't find things.

I was always like this, even as a kid. I could never find things I was looking for even if they were right in front of me. Especially in closets. And drawers. And on shelves. Later, when I was older I realized this extended to glove compartments and supermarkets. Bookstores, too, but so many books on the shelves are terrifically interesting that you forget what you were looking for and enjoy what you found. Which is not a bad way to live, actually.

But back then, my mom would say, after finding the missing thing, "If it were a snake it would have bitten you," which, as a small child, always gave me pause, though I was never entirely sure why.

My dad would say, 'Take your eyes in your hands!" Now, that fascinated me. I could envision it and would hold out my hands and move them around, pretending I had eyes in my palms. It was very jolly, but as I grew a little older I realized it didn't make much sense. It might have been handy for some people to have their eyes in their hands (especially for looking behind and under things in dark closets, in case there was a mouse or a spider there), but not for me, not with my eyes, because I wouldn't have been able to see what was in front of them no matter where they were stationed. (Now that I'm all grown up I have a hunch he was translating from Russian or Yiddish and it lost something in the translation.)

The discussion on my bulletin board continued:
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kashtanka on Wed Oct 29, 2008 1:20

I'm forgetful, too. I'll get to places and have no memory of driving there. A woman I know was talking about traffic grievances, and I said "I always have too much on my mind to give it much attention."

Another thing. I forget what's on my activity schedule all the time. A friend will ask "Are you looking forward to next Saturday?" There's an awkward silence and then I mumble a few words in hopes that she'll tell me what the activity is. Dangerous business that is.
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Now that's fixable. I'll have to tell kashtanka: Use iCal!! I had the same problem when, years after it appeared on my latest mac, I decided to try iCal. It's super. Sometimes I write thoughts in it, or write something I've already done and check it off and feel very productive. Sometimes I even start a journal, and once I decided to write three things I was happy about, and planned to do that every evening, but I forgot to continue.

Still, it's great. See, you write in it and then later it pops up on your screen to remind you to do something exactly when you told it to. If you click on it, all the details appear as well as long notes you wrote yourself about what to bring or say or do. When it comes to appointments, it's like magic.

Or should be. Actually, the little box that pops up goes in front of whatever you were reading and no matter where you move it, it's always in the way and becomes very irritating. But you do look at it, and if it reminds you of something it would have been disastrous to forget, your irritation is replaced with panic, which is good. Not pleasant, but good.

I'm also fond of Resnooze! It's really nice. You write yourself a memo whenever you have a great idea, or there's something you should do over and over (like, 'remember to look in that other email account,' or 'show up for that teleclass you're running,' or 'write the newsletter already!') and they appear and re-appear in your inbox daily, weekly or monthly until you do them. Or until you stop seeing them. Because when something is in your inbox repeatedly, it sort of becomes a thing and subject to the invisibility problem. You don't even open it after awhile. It turns into wallpaper and when you see it you don't give the subject line your full attention. You wonder faintly if it's spam and you delete it. Over and over. Until you figure out how to turn it off.

So, if you know a system for finding things when you're certain they're right in front of you but you can't see them anyway, just let me know. In the meantime, here's a law of nature that will help you avoid frenzy:

It is only possible to find things when you no longer need them. Give up and do something else.

And its corollary, equally true: Once you no longer need things, you will probably find them. It won't make you feel good, of course, because it's kind of like they're making fun of you. But humiliation fades faster than despair, so it's not all bad.

I'll let you know if we come up with something. Feel free to contribute any good ideas you might have.

Solitude, Italy and new good old friends.

Got back from the WriteSpeak retreat in Venice Beach only a month ago but it feels like I've been home a long time -- not long enough to clean up and back up my inbox, but I did a whole lot of organizing and tossing and I'm feeling superbly virtuous.

And now there are suitcases and boxes open and things folded and in baskets and on couches -- all in categories: linen jackets, pants, sandals for the stone masseria in Puglia's warmish weather, classier woolens and knits and shoes for Toulouse (it's France, after all!), and my favorites: down vest and sweatpants and warm socks for the good homey old village in Cappadocia (www.kilimwomen.com). I've never been to Toulouse, and I can remember when I thought anyone who went to Istanbul had probably been to the moon, too. But now, it's a nice place I go. Mystery gone. Familiarity and comfort replace it.

First destination, the retreat for Scanners in Puglia (photos at www.geniuspress.com) - which just about my favorite thing to do. I hope I'll be able to continue doing them overseas, but it gets trickier every year. Still, the emails we've been tossing back and forth indicate that there's going to be another remarkable group of people. One of the unexpected things that come out of retreats are lifelong friendships, and I'm one of the beneficiaries. It's a surprise.



Most of the last 30 years I've worked and lived solo in my home and always loved it. I never feel lonely because I'm in New York, and all you have to do (if you feel like a New Yorker) is go outdoors and you're surrounded by cousins. You get to say hello, of course, they probably do that in Dubuque, but you also get to boss people around. In cold weather I say things like, 'Put your hat on!' to strangers and any time of year I say 'Quit looking for quarters in public phones, Gerald, everyone will think you're crazy!' to people I know by name. People say things to me, too. It's something you either like or you don't.

There's New York when I'm outdoors, and then, for the last 20 years or so, there's been the internet. Well, telnet bulletin boards, and then email and then my own website and bulletin board and then Yahoo groups and now Twitter, I've been in pig heaven, people-wise, with people to communicate with whenever I want, which is pretty much whenever I'm home and awake.

When it comes to interaction, I've never loved the telephone -- when it rang I was wary; when I owed a call I felt burdened -- but I love to write emails. And bulletin boards are better than a crowded theater lobby between acts -- because everybody knows you, and you can listen in or join in to any conversation, and the conversations are usually more interesting than any I ever heard in a theater lobby. And, unlike the theater, this lobby is open whenever I feel like going there. (I can even watch the film of a play first, if I like.) Cocooning has been a personal gift from the universe to me.

But getting to know people face to face in a retreat setting, that's just a jolly thing, unlike other things, especially in an old, stone fortress with secret gardens, and a hidden chapel, and cappuccino & crossants like they don't seem to make it anywhere else. Sitting around the outdoor tables (plastic, I must admit) talking or walking among the short, twisted trunks of ancient olive trees with one person now, someone else later, waking up early and hitching a ride to the pebble beaches and crystal water, or to the internet cafe in the little medieval town nearby -- all the time with this small group of unusual people --is more like being at a reunion than just a vacation, because you sense that these people are going to be old friends.

I'm not the only one who says this. One Scanner retreat is having its second annual reunion in Tuscany this week. The September 07 retreat just had its first reunion in California in August. Just last month, one of our Scanners passed away unexpectedly and we're all grieving because it feels like we knew him all our lives. On Yahoo mail we tell stories of how he had achieved his dream, and pushed everyone to go after theirs.

There are happy things, too. (Our pharmacist from Germany is taking clown lessons!)

I admit the Write-Speak retreats (http://writeyourownsuccessstory.com) are also full of amazing people and they stay together too, working together in teams, cheering each other on to their goals (I'm always returning to snoop in their group emails). But most of the WriteSpeakers confess to being Scanners as well. And Scanners are just plain wonderful people.

If you don't know yet, a Scanner is an eclectic, someone who calls himself-herself a dilettante, a jack of all trades, that sort of derogatory label. I call them multi-talented, generous, intelligent and fascinating people. I wrote a whole book about them and found them to be so amazing, I started the retreats so I could get to know them better. One thing about Scanners (aside from how hard they've been on themselves until now) is that they've rarely been around other Scanners. That's a revelation. But I'll talk about that another time.

Enough socializing. Gotta get back to packing.

Scanner Retreat in Puglia, Italy

Did a radio show today with good producer Matt -- he in Corfu, I in New York City -- all about the wonderful place where the spring and fall retreats take place. Tomorrow I'll add some links to photos of the beautiful masseria on Flickr.com, but right now you can see the shots we took last time at www.geniuspress.com

And here's the long and ugly link, well, not exactly a link, I hear. You should be able to play the thing from here (and I promise to learn how to do tiny urls next -- spent the weekend bouncing around Twitter, one thing at a time...)



Oh my. That looks like a sentence from The Magic Mountain.

(OH MY, NO IT DOESN'T! Will you look at that? :-) Life is good.)

The show went on longer than expected and we didn't have time for callers because I'm obsessive about this issue, and I couldn't stop talking about this remarkable population, this group of people that have so many interests, are so curious, love learning new things, and are torn between the dread that they'll be stuck in some suffocating, dull job and the dread that they'll never amount to anythng because they can't focus.

But Scanners have to know there's not a damn thing wrong with them, first and foremost, if they know nothing else. What a costly and cruel mistake it's been for these smart, multi-talented people to get caught up in the age of specialization that respects only single-minded achievers and doesn't know who they are.

Their families and teachers and communities are bewildered and disappointed in them. But then, these same people would have called Ben Frankiln a dilettante, and told Aristotle he had attention deficit disorder. They'd have been dismayed at the wasted life of Leonardo da Vinci (if they didn't know his name!) because he was so talented and just didn't stick to anythng. and told they're dilettantes, lazy, neurotic -- that they fear success, they're trying to sabotage themselves, or they're just foolish, no ability to concentrate, no character or self-discipline.

It's funny to call them renaissance people, as if it were odd that someone has more than one interest, and most of them shy away from the grandiosity of the term. But I guess that's what they are.

Tomorrow I'll talk about the other thngs Scanners need -- and why I wish I could run more retreats because they make such a huge difference in the lives of these talented people.

Bad enough they're told these things, they believe them! They repeat them when they describe themselves.

And their reactions when they find out it's all been a huge mistake is a level of relief that often brings tears. I'm going to start quoteing some of the letters I've been getting for years now.

Nothing's more important than a Scanner knowing there's nothing wrong with her or him.

But there are a few more essentials Scanners must have. I'll tell you all about them tomorrow. (Of course, if you can make that monster link above work, you can rest your eyes and listen to it.)

Watch this space.