Memory is defiled when something of a snare resides in it. For example, if I have in remembrance a sin or failure, this stumbles my function today. My question for me remains, “What part of ‘blotted out’ do I not understand? Well, my big-shot memory feels that it must keep my big-stuff secure, for the purpose of big-recall in case I need to defend my big-self, or “set the big-record straight.” Sorry, I got carried away with big-me. The problem is I may feel the need to place the blame on the right person, myself or other; after all, I must be honest. Yeah, right! “I must show my sincerity, after all, I have to ‘man up’ and eat my fate. I have made my bed so now I must sleep in it.” —excuse me while I regurgitate. Frankly, “forgetting” has become a chore, and bucks up against my big-boy…