Where the Past Begins: Memory and Imagination

by Amy Tan

Wonderment has always been my habit, even before I knew I was a writer.

I want to bring forth what I cannot see, what is not there, or is there but nearly indiscernible because the million pieces that make up its whole are scattered all over the place, and extend from past into present.

The process of writing is the painful recovery of things that are lost.

only occasionally do I wish I knew voodoo to make certain people wake up mooing like cows.

As the listener, I don’t have to work, but I am not passive either. It is similar to what happens when I read. Once the story captures my senses, I am no longer conscious of the act of reading words. I am in the story.

I simply welcome this benevolent companion when I write, be it my grandmother, the universal consciousness, or a deeper layer of my subconscious unleashed by imagination.

Fear, I think, is the worst element of religions of all kinds. It is used to justify more fear, as well as hatred, lack of compassion, intolerance, and war.

My God is not a deity I have to worship in any particular way. My God is always there, I would tell him, wherever I am. It is a consciousness greater than mine but also includes mine. It is the full knowledge that love, joy, and peace are the same thing and it is in all of us.

I’ve known that since I was a child, that I would never be understood.

When leaving a place, don’t look back. If you do, you are back to where you started.