Body Counts

Every day when we sleep, our brain quietly sorts through the day, deciding what information to store and what to remove. And even though as we move ahead in life we forget a lot of things, even the things that once mattered to us more than anything at a particular time, we simply move on. Life continues through good parts and bad parts, and somewhere along the way memories fade.

But still, the body remembers longer than the mind.

Recently I went to watch a movie with friends. One of them was someone who used to be my closest friend. We used to spend a lot of time together, but life happened and we lost connection. When we met again, it felt like we didn’t even know what was happening in each other’s lives anymore. We shared what we were up to, sat down, and the movie started. After a few minutes I noticed something familiar. She had started tapping her leg continuously, the way she used to because of her ADHD and hyperactivity.

Without thinking about it, my hand automatically stretched forward the way it used to years ago, gently reaching toward hers so she would stop tapping. You might have heard how Pedro Pascal sometimes holds his co-stars’ hands to calm his anxiety. Even though it had been almost two years since our friendship had faded, my body still remembered what it used to do. The gesture happened before my mind even realised it.

That moment made me realise something strange. The mind forgets faster than the body does. Certain actions become habits, almost like muscle memory. And maybe that’s why it’s so hard to break routines, to fight fears, or to overcome old anxieties. They become wired somewhere deeper than ordinary memory. You might forget what once made you anxious. Years pass and life moves forward. But when the same situation appears again, the body reacts instantly. The same tightness, the same nervousness, the same reaction returns, because the body remembers even when the mind believes it has moved on.

But sometimes the opposite happens too. The mind forgets something completely, and then suddenly remembers it out of nowhere.

Now that the season of mangoes and sugarcane has arrived, I went to drink sugarcane juice. As I took the first sip, something strange happened. A memory appeared instantly, almost pulled from somewhere I didn’t know I had stored it. Not an important memory, not a major life moment, just a small scene. I remembered buying sugarcane juice for a friend on a very hot day. We were going somewhere and for some reason I had parked the car. She noticed the sugarcane stall, and I walked over to buy the juice for her, or maybe for both of us, I can’t even remember now.

What I cannot remember is why my mind decided to keep this memory at all. Was it an important day? Was it a special moment? What happened after that? I don’t remember. I don’t even clearly remember which friend it was, or whether it happened last year or a few years ago. The details are gone. But the feeling remained. Somehow the body still remembers that the moment felt good.

Maybe the body counts things differently. It counts gestures, habits, sensations, and feelings — the small repetitions that quietly shape our lives. The mind might forget the story, the dates, the context, but the body keeps the imprint.

Strange memory. Strange how body counts.