Is your memory real?
Neuroscience has found that the brain often tampers with history. Every time you recall the past,
you think you're opening an archive,
but neuroscience reveals a chilling truth:
Every time your brain opens this file,
it quietly rewrites the content
and saves it back again.
The more you rewrite it,
the more convinced you become that it's the truth.
In other words,
the events you recall most frequently
deviate the furthest from what actually happened.
That memory in your mind right now—the clearest, most certain,
and most unforgettable one—
is precisely the one your brain has tampered with the most.
This isn't science fiction.
It's one of the most important discoveries in memory neuroscience over the last 20 years:
Memory Reconsolidation Theory.
As I analyzed the core mechanism of this theory,
I discovered something profoundly shocking.
Its dynamic structure is almost identical to the "Seed Perfuming" mechanism
described by the Yogacara school of Buddhism 1,500 years ago.
Hello,
everyone.
I am Wang Lijie.
Let me be clear:
I’m not here to prove that Buddhism predicted neuroscience,
nor am I using science to endorse religion.
What I always do is
compare the underlying models of different fields
to see if they are describing the same structure.
If they are,
we gain a new dimension for understanding the world.
If not,
there’s no harm done.
Alright.
Let's start with a phenomenon you've likely experienced.
On September 11, 2001,
the United States suffered a terrorist attack.
Almost everyone who lived through it remembers exactly where they were,
what they were doing, and how they heard the news.
Memories formed during major events
have a specific name in psychology:
Flashbulb Memories.
The name is quite vivid,
as if the brain clicked a shutter at that moment,
capturing the entire scene intact
and saving it forever.
But in 2003,
Duke University psychologists Talarico and Rubin
conducted a follow-up study.
On the day after 9/11, they gathered a group of college students
and asked them to record exactly how they heard the news.
Then, after one week, six weeks, and forty-two weeks,
they asked the students to recall it again.
The results were startling.
Over time,
the details of the students' recollections changed significantly.
Some changed their location from a cafeteria to a dorm;
some changed from being with friends to being alone;
some even changed how they heard the news from TV to a phone call.
But what was the most critical finding?
The students' confidence in the accuracy of their memory
hardly declined at all.
They were convinced they remembered it perfectly,
down to every last detail.
The memory changed,
but the sense of certainty remained.
It's as if your phone secretly edited a photo
but told you it was the original.
Why does this happen?
This involves the most important paradigm shift in memory science
over the past twenty years.
Before 2000,
the mainstream view was that memory formation had two stages.
Stage one is short-term memory,
unstable
and easily lost.
Stage two is long-term memory.
Once formed, it was thought to be set in stone like concrete.
Stable storage,
never to change again.
This model is called memory consolidation theory.
Its core assumption is that
once a long-term memory is solidified,
it's like words carved in stone;
unless the stone is destroyed,
the content remains the same.
But in 2000,
Karim Nader, a neuroscientist at NYU,
conducted an experiment that changed the entire field.
Nader and his colleagues experimented with rats.
They first had the rats form a fear memory,
where they'd get scared upon hearing a specific sound.
After this memory was fully consolidated,
he did something else:
he made the rats recall that fear.
At the exact moment the rats were remembering,
he injected a drug called anisomycin into their amygdala.
This drug blocks protein synthesis.
As a result, the rats' fear memory vanished.
What does this mean?
It means that when the rats recalled the memory,
the solidified memory actually became unstable again.
It was reopened.
Like a saved document being reopened,
it entered edit mode.
In this edit mode,
if you block the protein synthesis needed to save it again,
it cannot re-solidify,
and the memory is lost.
This paper was published in the top journal Nature,
shocking the entire neuroscience community.
Its core finding was later named memory reconsolidation theory.
Every time you retrieve a memory,
it enters a temporarily unstable state.
It then requires a new round of protein synthesis to be stored again.
During this re-storage process,
current emotions, environmental cues, and new knowledge thereafter
will all be woven into it.
In other words,
memory is not reading;
it is rewriting.
Every recall
is a recompilation.
Let me give you a very intuitive analogy.
You think your memory is a read-only file;
you open it, read it, and close it,
and the content stays the same.
But in reality,
your memory is more like a document that automatically
enters edit mode every time it's opened.
Every time you open it,
your mood, your surroundings, and new information you've learned since
are all automatically written in.
Then the document is saved again,
overwriting the previous version.
And the worst part is,
it doesn't tell you what it changed.
It doesn't even tell you that it *has* changed.
What you see is always the latest version,
though you assume it's the original.
This is why the memories you are most certain of
are often the ones most tampered with.
Because the more important a memory, the more often you recall it.
Each recall means another rewrite.
The more times it's rewritten,
the further it deviates from the original,
even as your sense of certainty grows stronger.
Nader's finding wasn't an isolated case.
In 2003,
Walker and others from Harvard published in Nature
the first evidence of memory reconsolidation in humans.
Using motor skill tasks, they proved that
once consolidated human memories are reactivated,
they indeed re-enter an unstable state,
making them prone to interference and modification by new learning.
This means memory reconsolidation isn't unique to rats;
it exists in humans as well.
In 2014,
Donna Bridge and Joel Voss at Northwestern University
published a more precise study.
They had subjects memorize the locations of a series of objects on a screen,
and then observed how memories drifted
by repeatedly retrieving them and introducing tiny biases.
The results showed that
after each retrieval,
the subjects' memory would shift
toward the bias introduced during the last recollection.
Memory is like a ball being constantly pushed;
it gets a nudge every time it's recalled,
and the direction depends on your state of mind at that moment.
There's another more common phenomenon you must have experienced
called the Mandela Effect.
Many people remember South African leader Nelson Mandela
dying in prison in the 1980s.
But in fact, Mandela was released in 1990
and did not pass away until 2013.
This isn't just one or two people misremembering;
it's a large-scale collective false memory.
There are many similar examples.
For instance, many remember the tip of Pikachu's tail as being black,
but it has actually been solid yellow since the original design.
The tips of its ears are black.
Many also believe they clearly remember a classic movie line,
only to go back and find the original scene is completely different.
The causes of the Mandela Effect are multifaceted,
including distortion in information dissemination and social suggestion,
as well as the brain's tendency for pattern-filling.
But memory reconsolidation theory provides an underlying mechanism.
Every time you discuss these topics in social settings,
your memory is reopened.
It's contaminated by the environment and others' narratives, then re-saved.
You think you are verifying a memory,
but you are actually modifying it.
Alright.
Let's pause the science here for a moment.
I must emphasize that
memory reconsolidation theory is one of the most important discoveries
in neuroscience over the last twenty years.
However, some of its specific mechanisms,
such as which types of memories are more susceptible,
and the exact molecular pathways,
remain under ongoing research.
What I'm discussing today is the field's solid core framework.
Now, I want to do something else:
place memory reconsolidation within the framework of Yogacara Buddhism.
If you're a long-time viewer of this channel,
the next part will seem very familiar.
But I promise today's angle is brand new.
Yogacara has a central tenet,
expressed in eight characters in Chinese:
"Seeds give rise to manifestations,"
"Manifestations perfume the seeds."
I broke down the concept of "seeds" in my previous episode on Yogacara.
I won't repeat the basic definitions today.
Let's look at how these relate to memory reconsolidation.
"Seeds give rise to manifestations."
What does this mean?
Seeds stored in the Alaya-vijnana (storehouse consciousness)
are activated when the right conditions arise,
producing current mental activities and experiences.
Translated into the language of memory science:
Memory traces stored in long-term memory are retrieved
into working memory,
creating your current experience of recollection.
"Manifestations perfume the seeds."
What does this mean?
Current mental activities in turn plant new seeds in the Alaya-vijnana,
or change the nature of existing seeds.
In the language of memory science:
When a memory is retrieved and enters an unstable state,
current emotions, context, and new info are integrated into it,
forming a modified new version
which is then re-stored in long-term memory.
Look at these two concepts side-by-side:
"Seeds give rise to manifestations"
is memory retrieval.
"Manifestations perfume the seeds"
is memory reconsolidation.
The entire cycle
is that retrieval causes instability;
during instability, it is contaminated by the current state;
after contamination, it is re-stored stably.
This cycle, described by Yogacara 1,500 years ago,
and the cycle discovered by Nader in his lab in 2000,
are the exact same dynamic process.
But Yogacara says a few more things than modern memory science,
and these are precisely the directions modern science is catching up to.
First,
Yogacara says this cycle is not neutral.
In every process of 'manifestation perfuming seeds,' Mana-vijnana
attaches the label of 'me' to it.
I analyzed this mechanism in detail in the episode on 'Transfer of Merit.'
Mana-vijnana is the Default Mode Network.
Its core job is to recruit all experiences into a self-narrative.
What does this mean?
It means every time you recall a memory,
you aren't just rewriting the content of the memory;
you are also strengthening the bond between that memory and the self.
The more important the memory,
the more frequently you recall it,
and the firmer the 'me' label from Mana-vijnana becomes.
This is why traumatic memories are so hard to let go of.
It's not because the event itself was so terrifying,
but because every time you remember it, you reinforce
the narrative framework of 'this is my trauma' and 'this defines who I am.'
You think you are facing the pain,
but you are actually consolidating the bond between pain and identity.
This has been partially validated in modern psychology.
Research on PTSD has found
that the core issue with traumatic memory isn't just the painful content;
more crucially, the memory has been encoded into the patient's
narrative of self-identity.
It becomes,
'I am a person who was harmed,'
and 'the world is unsafe for me.'
The key to therapy is often not to erase the memory content,
but to unbind the memory from the narrative of self-identity.
Yogacara pointed out this mechanism 1,500 years ago.
Mana-vijnana isn't helping you remember facts;
it's helping you weave a story called 'Me.'
And every time you remember,
it's a new edition of that story.
Second,
Yogacara says seeds have the quality of 'momentary cessation.'
A seed isn't a stone sitting still in a warehouse;
it is constantly arising and ceasing every moment.
Even if you don't actively recall it,
the seed is undergoing fine-tuning.
This corresponds to a relatively new discovery in memory science
called 'systems consolidation.'
Research has found
that memory doesn't only change during active retrieval.
During sleep,
the hippocampus repeatedly replays the day's experiences,
integrating them into the long-term storage network of the neocortex.
This replay process is accompanied by special neural oscillations
called 'sharp-wave ripples.'
And every replay
is a potential opportunity for modification.
You think your memories are lying quietly while you sleep.
No.
Your hippocampus is secretly editing them while you're not looking.
Third,
and most profound,
Yogacara seed theory has an ultimate conclusion:
all seeds are ultimately products of 'omnipresent conceptual attachment.'
What does this mean?
Every so-called 'fact' in your memory
was never the fact itself,
but a processed projection of the fact by your consciousness.
You think you remember a flower,
but what you remember was never the flower itself.
Instead, it's an imprint left after layered processing
by your visual consciousness, mental consciousness, and Mana.
From the moment this imprint was created,
it was no longer the original event.
And every subsequent recall processes it again through your current state of consciousness.
Discoveries in memory science align perfectly with this judgment.
Elizabeth Loftus,
perhaps one of the most famous scientists in memory research,
spent decades studying the implantation of false memories.
Her classic experiment went like this:
She presented subjects with descriptions of four childhood experiences.
Three were real,
and one was fabricated,
such as getting lost in a mall as a child.
As it turned out, about a quarter of the subjects believed
the fabricated experience was true.
Moreover, they would sincerely fill in vivid details for this false memory,
describing the scene, the emotions,
and even recalling what the stranger who helped them looked like.
Loftus's work had enormous legal implications.
Eyewitness memory was once considered in court to be
one of the most reliable forms of evidence.
But her research showed that
eyewitness testimony might be the most unreliable form of evidence.
Because every time one is questioned or testifies in court,
it is a process of memory reconsolidation.
It can be contaminated by the way questions are asked, by suggestions, or even by an observer's expression.
Returning to the language of Yogacara,
Parikalpita-svabhāva (imaginary nature) is not a mistake you make;
it is the way memory itself works.
Your conscious system was never designed to store objective facts;
it was designed to serve survival.
And serving survival requires not truth,
but useful stories.
So your memory system is naturally a story generator,
not an archive of truth.
If you are a long-time viewer of this channel,
you'll find this conclusion is completely consistent with
the concept of 'controlled hallucination' I discussed in the meditation episode.
Anil Seth says the reality you perceive is the brain's controlled hallucination.
Meditation is the process of lowering the weight of priors to see through the hallucination.
Today we add a new dimension:
your memory,
which is to say, your past,
is likewise a controlled hallucination.
Your brain isn't just fabricating the present in real-time;
it is also constantly revising the past.
Thinking about this gives me a profound feeling.
We usually build our identity on two things:
the perception of the present,
and the memory of the past.
But predictive coding tells you
your perception of the present is a controlled hallucination fabricated by the brain.
Memory reconsolidation tells you
your memory of the past is a living document rewritten every time you recall it.
So the question arises:
If the present you perceive isn't the present,
and the past you remember isn't the past,
then where exactly is the foundation
for this thing called 'me'?
Yogacara provided the answer long ago.
'I' am not in any memory,
nor in any perception.
'I' am a label consistently applied by the Manas consciousness
to the stream of seeds in the Alaya consciousness.
This label is not an entity;
it is a process;
a never-ending process of self-construction.
You don't possess a self;
you are remaking a self in every moment.
Every time you remember, you aren't finding yourself,
you are re-fabricating yourself.
Now,
I know this channel has some very sharp viewers in the comments.
Whenever I discuss the intersection of science and Buddhism,
someone inevitably asks a key question:
"Are these correspondences you speak of
actual structural isomorphisms,
or are you just drawing far-fetched parallels?"
That is an excellent question.
I ask myself this every time I prepare these topics.
My answer is this:
First of all,
I never say that Buddhism predicted science,
nor that science has validated Buddhism.
Buddhism and science are two different cognitive tools.
They have different methodologies, scopes of application, and validation standards.
What I am doing is structural comparison,
not claiming they are equivalent.
Secondly,
the correspondence between 'seeds manifesting' and memory retrieval,
and between 'manifestations perfuming seeds' and memory reconsolidation,
is not something I forced together.
They share three verifiable common features at the dynamic level.
First:
Stored content becomes unstable when activated.
Second:
In this unstable state, it is modified by the current state.
Third:
After modification, it is restabilized and stored,
and this modification is irreversible.
You cannot revert to the previous version.
These three traits hold true in both systems.
This is not just an analogy;
it is a structural isomorphism.
But I must also clarify where the boundaries lie.
The Yogacara theory of 'seeds' is much broader than memory reconsolidation.
Seeds are not just memories;
they encompass all mental tendencies, habitual patterns, and latent behavioral drivers.
Memory reconsolidation is simply a scientific validation
of the seed theory within a single dimension: memory.
You cannot infer that all claims of the seed theory are scientifically proven.
Science has verified one piece of the puzzle,
but the entire picture is much larger than that single piece.
This is my principle whenever I tackle these topics.
Where things align,
I tell you exactly where they correspond and why I see an isomorphism.
Where they don't align,
or where they exceed the scope of scientific verification,
I honestly draw the line.
Alright.
Finally, I want to share a practical insight from this content.
This is something you might be able to use immediately.
Since memory is a living document rewritten every time it is opened,
your attachment to the past
is not actually respecting facts;
it is reinforcing bias.
That trauma you repeatedly recall—
each time you remember it,
it is colored by your current emotions,
reinforced by the self-narrative of the Manas-vijnana.
You think you are facing the past,
but you are using current biases to constantly rewrite it,
then torturing yourself with the rewritten version as an unshakable fact.
This also has a direct impact on investment decisions.
In behavioral economics, there is a concept called the anchoring effect.
When making an investment judgment,
the first price or piece of information you see becomes an anchor.
Subsequent judgments are skewed by this anchor.
Memory reconsolidation theory tells us
that this anchor is not fixed,
which might be even more dangerous than being fixed.
Because every time you recall that initial judgment,
you are modifying it with current emotions and new information,
while believing what you remember is still the original objective analysis.
Your investment judgment is being unconsciously modified,
yet your sense of certainty increases rather than decreases.
This is exactly like the students in the 9/11 memory study.
The memory changed,
but the certainty did not.
So, what can be done specifically?
One:
Always keep written records of important decisions.
Do not rely on memory.
What was your analytical framework for an investment three months ago?
What were the key assumptions and risk assessments?
Write them down.
Three months later, when you look back,
you might be surprised to find
that the framework in your memory is completely different
from what you actually wrote down.
A written record is your original backup,
preventing it from being overwritten by the brain's automatic edits.
Two:
Regarding attachment to the past—
Try to let go a little.
It's not that you shouldn't reminisce,
but when you do,
remind yourself:
This isn't a playback of facts;
it's a re-creation of the past by your current consciousness.
This reminder is what Yogacara calls 'self-corroboration.'
You begin to observe what your consciousness is doing.
Once you see this process,
you won't be as easily held hostage by memory.
Third,
and most profound:
If you can truly digest today's talk,
you'll find a fact that is both terrifying and liberating.
The thing you call 'the past'
never actually existed.
What exists is only your current reconstruction of it.
You live in an eternal present.
You think you are walking while carrying the past,
but in truth, you are regenerating 'the past' with every step.
So the question becomes:
If the past you create causes you pain,
do you also have the power to create one that is less painful?
The answer is yes.
But the method isn't self-deception;
it's not forcing a bad memory into a good one.
It is the path Yogacara has offered for 1,500 years:
Reduce the weight of the Manas-vijnana's attachment.
Let memory return to its original place—
as useful reference information,
rather than an immovable self-definition.
We've covered a lot today,
so let me summarize.
Memory is not storage;
it is reconstruction.
Every recall is a re-compilation.
Current emotions, new info, and self-narratives are woven in.
The memories you trust most are often the most altered.
Yogacara described this cycle 1,500 years ago:
'Seeds manifest action, action perfumes seeds.'
And the role of the Manas-vijnana in every cycle
is to incorporate all memories into the self-narrative,
making you identify more with that rewritten version.
Understanding this mechanism
isn't about doubting everything or denying the past;
it is about gaining unprecedented freedom.
You can choose to no longer be hostage to a rewritten story.
Your past is not your cage,
because it is a work you are rewriting in every moment.
Alright.
That's all for today.
We've explored the links between memory reconstruction and seed-perfuming.
Which point resonated most with you?
Have you found a memory of yours that was quietly rewritten?
Or do you have thoughts on the mapping of science and Buddhism?
Feel free to leave a comment below.
I’d love to see you share your real experiences.
I'm Wang Lijie.
See you next time.