There’s good forgetting and bad forgetting. Bad forgetting is when I can’t remember where I put my keys or glasses. It’s when I can’t remember which shade of green I used for a character that I now need to re-draw for an entire picture book. It’s when I miss my nephew’s birthday. It’s when I can’t find the exact brush I need when I’m mid-wash and only have a limited time before I miss the chance to correct it. Bad forgetting is the type of forgetting that needs structure and routine to guard against.
Good forgetting is entirely different. Good forgetting is when I can’t quite remember how upset I was when grandma died. Or the searing pain when I busted my knee. It’s when I forget I that I couldn’t draw that particular scene many months ago so I try again, and this time, I can do it. It’s when I don’t remember I’ve read a poem, until after I’ve read it a second time, so I get to experience it more than once at different times of my life.
We often associate the idea of forgetfulness with something negative. We talk about it as if it’s a failure and we wish to be less forgetful. But forgetting is useful, it’s an evolutionary advantage.
I wonder what else is like that?