Is our memory shaped by real experiences, or by the stories we constantly 'retell' and 'disseminate'?

Hey, that's an excellent question because it touches on a core secret of what it means to be human. This isn't really an "either-or" choice, but rather a question of how the two interact and interplay.

Think of our experiences as the "raw footage" of a movie, while our memories are the "final cut" – meticulously edited, scored, and narrated.

Both are essential, but what we ultimately "replay" and "share" in our minds is absolutely that "final cut."

Let me break down this process for you:

First, Without the Foundation of "Real Experience," Everything is Meaningless

This is like making a movie; you need footage shot by cameras first. Our senses – sight, hearing, smell, touch – are our cameras.

Experience is the starting point: You can't "remember" something you've never encountered in any form. Whether it's a soccer game you played in or a historical event you read about, there must be an initial "input of information."
But this starting point isn't "pure": Crucially, even at the moment of experience, our "recording" isn't 100% objective. Your mood at the time (nervous? excited?), your attention (you noticed their eyes but forgot their shoes), your physical state (tired? hungry?) – all these factors determine from the outset what your "footage" captured and what it missed. This is itself a form of cognitive bias.

So, "real experience" is the bedrock of memory, but it's never a perfect, flawless, rectangular stone from the very beginning.

Then, Here Comes the Main Event: The Scissors of "Retelling" and "Sharing"

With the raw footage, the real "magic" happens in the editing room. Every time we "recall" or "tell someone" about a past event, we are performing a new edit on the raw material. This is the core of narrative psychology.

This editing process primarily serves several purposes:

Filling in the Gaps for Coherence (Cognitive Coherence) Our brains hate "holes" in a story, so they unconsciously fill in gaps in what we've forgotten or never noticed with "plausible-sounding" details. For example, you might not remember exactly what you ate for dinner that night, but to make the story complete, you might say, "We just grabbed a quick bite." That "quick bite" is something your brain "fills in" to make the narrative flow. Over time, you genuinely come to "believe" you remember eating a quick bite.
Adjusting the Plot for Resonance (Communicative Perspective) When you tell friends about your disastrous day, if they laugh at a particular detail, next time you tell it, you're likely to amplify that punchline or even embellish it. Conversely, if a part bores your audience, you might skip it next time. This process is like a comedian refining a routine; the story is shaped by the audience's reactions during sharing. What ultimately remains is the version that best evokes emotional resonance.
Shaping the Protagonist for "Who I Am" (Self-Identity) This is the most profound point. We are the protagonists of our own lives. When retelling stories, we inevitably shape ourselves into the person we want to be – perhaps a victim, a hero, or a comedic fool. For instance, a failed job interview might initially feel like a result of your poor preparation, leaving you dejected. But after telling it many times, it might gradually become "that interviewer was so unreasonable" or "I learned a valuable lesson from that failure, which led to who I am today." The story's tone changes, your role within that memory changes, and this directly relates to your self-identity.

From "My Story" to "Our Story": The Birth of Collective Memory

When a story isn't just told by you alone but circulates within a group (like a family, company, or even an entire society), this "editing" process becomes even more complex.

Take a family trip: Dad remembers the hardships of the journey, Mom remembers the comfort of the hotel, and you remember the ice cream on the beach. But years later, what gets repeatedly told at the dinner table might be the heroic tale of "the whole family working together to push the car out of the mud." Gradually, this "unity" story becomes the trip's "official collective memory," while the trivial memories that don't fit this theme fade away. National histories and ethnic legends are formed in the same way.

Conclusion: We Live in the "Life Movie" We Direct

So, back to your question:

Our memory is the product of the interplay between real experience and narrative. It's like a sculpture: real experience is the rough stone, and every time we retell it, every time we share it, we take another chisel to it.

Ultimately, what we hold in our hands, show to others, and leave for ourselves is that sculpture – smoothed by ourselves and others, with flowing lines and a clear theme. It originates from that rough stone, but it is no longer the stone's original form.

This isn't a flaw. It's the unique way we, as sentient beings, give meaning to our experiences, construct our selves, and connect with others. We are all the first-person narrators of our own lives.