I undressed my memory and found out 
  I was not who they taught me I was. 
  
  My name was not who I remember, 
  but who I love to be. 
  
  How could that be possible! 
  
  That's how it has always been, 
  but I had been blind with so much suffering. 
  
  Suffering contaminates in such a way, 
  we stop thinking, acting in fury. 
  
  Dear memory, who was I before suffering?
  
  Dear memory, told me so,
  I listen to her as if her words 
  were made of diamond skies. 
  
  But, dear memory, forgot to tell me,
  who I had been before, as a baby 
  inside mother's womb.
  
  Dear memory, who am I?

  I don't want to die with all that suffering
  inside my heart. Tell me, before I do!
  
  Dear memory, who was I before hating?

  Don't leave me alone, but if I rely 
  too on your words I might become 
  who I remeber rather than who I love 
  to be, so free, so please, take me 
  into my dreams as I close my eyes. 
  
  Memory, dear memory, am I asleep? 
  
  Is that the reason I can't see? 
            My eyes are closed, 
  had I thought they were open?
  
  If I am asleep, dear memory, 
  tell me, remember me,
  how can I wake up to life?
  
  How can I forgive those who have forgiven me?
  How can I love those who have hatred against me?
  
  Dear memory, how can I love you if your knowledge
  hurts me as I remember suffering, as if I were suffering?
  
  Memory, dear memory, where does freedom lie?
  
  Suddenly, memory spoke, but for the first time 
  I listened carefully, and all she told me was: 
            There is nothing to remember.
  
  How could I, dear memory, be so mistaken?
  Why do you, dear memory, let me cry in silence?
  
  Memory, dear memory, didn't answer back. 
  
  It was then, in silence, where I understood:
  I didn't need memory to be alive, because universality 
  is not about remembering concepts, but the actuality 
  of giving, sharing and loving, being present,
                       each instant of life. 
Why do we live in pain? How can we live without pain? Is it possible? What is pain? Pain can be physical, but suffering is internal. Can we live with pain, but without suffering? Perhaps. Were does pain and suffering lie? Is it in memory? Can we be pain free if the memories presented, through thoughts, are understood? It could be, but would we become senseless beings if were able to control our emotions and thoughts by will? Or on the contrary could we work out our emotional content, so good emotions may linger? Would that make us less human or simply different? Could a rage and anger be processed by our minds through speech, intelligence, art, or any other positive ways?
Signature Lina Ru