“That’s just what bothers me. That there are no memories/memoirs of an analysis.” This is something that Lacan stated late in his career. Was he talking of his own analysis or of everyone’s. That he had no memories of his own analysis with an analyst representing ego psychology which he later made the subject of a lifelong attack. Was he talking of the lack of memory which analysands display in their own analysis. How is it this the person in front of me does not recall what he has said to me when I recall what he and a hundred others have this week. The freedom of being analysand. To let go. To not think. To not remember. To not recall.

Memory and dread. We experience so much anxiety so much dread from the moment we are born. We seek to forget. We want to forget We learn to forget from the beginning to survive. But it is a mistake. Forgetting is not letting go. We must remember to let go. The putting into words, into images, into gestures is the remembering to let go. Symbolic imaginary real.

So why are there no memoirs of an analysis. An analysis is a memoir. Is there then any need to write it a second time. A memoir is an analysis. Is there any need for the clinic then. What I call Autopoesis incorporates both of these. It is subjectivization, whether through analysis or through art. To write oneself into existence. To create from the first person singular – I. Becoming literature, becoming poetry. Lacan also said: “I am not a poet but a poem – being written.” Being is becoming.