Time and memory are so intertwined that it’s nearly impossible to disentangle one from the other. Our memories give texture to the passage of time, transforming fleeting moments into a coherent story—one that defines who we are. 

This is the essence of what psychologists call the narrative self: the deeply held sense that we are consistent, enduring individuals, moving through time. But how does this continuity emerge? How do disparate experiences, emotions, and encounters accumulate into something cohesive—a sense of “me”? The answer lies in the way memory anchors our perception of time and stitches together the fragments of our lives into a broader whole.

On the one hand, memory is inextricably linked with our sense of self. At the same time, memory is imperfect, often unreliable, and deeply selective. It shapes not just how we recall the past but also how we experience the present and anticipate the future. This relationship between memory and time extends beyond a linear chronology—it reveals a deeper, more layered structure to how we exist in the world. Are we really a separate entity moving through time, accumulating memories as we go? 

Or should we think differently about this relationship between time, memory, and the self?

The Psychology of Memory isn’t Only About The Past

As we’ve seen, the connection between memory and self is rich and essential. Memory is the glue that holds your sense of “being you” together. As neuroscientist and memory expert James McGaugh puts it: “Memory is the most important mental ability. Without memory, there would be no human being.” Each morning, we wake up as slightly different versions of ourselves, yet we still feel like an enduring entity, moving through time.

Sadly, the fragility of this connection is starkly evident in the case of Clive Wearing, a man whose memory lasts only 30 seconds. Being trapped in such a brief interval is not just disorienting—it is entirely incompatible with the maintenance of an enduring self. As neuroscientist Anil Seth explains, “The destruction of [Clive’s] narrative self is more than just a deficit of memory; it brings an inability to perceive himself as continuous over time, and with that comes an erosion of his fundamental sense of personal identity that most of us, quite naturally, take for granted.”

Your memory, then, isn’t merely a tool for recalling facts or anecdotes—it is, in a very little sense, you.

But memory doesn’t only anchor us to the past. It is drawn, seamlessly and without our awareness, into every passing experience, shaping how we interpret the present moment. This interaction between memory and time has been explored by historian Alan Jacobs, who describes it in terms of “temporal bandwidth.” He defines this as “the width of your present, your now... the thicker your bandwidth, the more solid your persona. But the narrower your sense of now, the more tenuous you are.” In other words, the more densely packed our narrative self is—with history, knowledge, and experience—the richer and more meaningful our moment-to-moment experiences become.

How Temporal Bandwidth links Time Perception and Memory

Our temporal bandwidth is not constant; it fluctuates based on how much attention and engagement we bring to the present. Modern life, particularly the quickfire stimuli of social media, often narrows our bandwidth, leaving us fragmented and unmoored. As Jacobs writes, “We lack the density to stay put even in the mildest breeze from our news feeds. Temporal bandwidth helps give us the requisite density: it addresses our condition by simultaneously slowing us down and giving us more freedom of movement.” (p. 23)

Those of us on social media know this feeling all too well - of being locked in to an endless, revolving door of high octane news and combustable controversy. It's a feeling of being completely at the mercy of the immediate digital experience. It's an experience completely devoid of perspective and proportionality, and, along with it, a total lack of autonomy to deliberate about the present moment. Temporal bandwidth then, is not about slowing down or speeding up time. But about tending to another dimension altogether: depth.

Our temporal bandwidth expands when we are deeply engrossed, and when we bring a greater depth to bear on the present moment. Perhaps no one exemplified this concept better than the German polymath Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. In the late 1700s, Goethe made groundbreaking contributions across disciplines—from physics to poetry to the natural sciences—and remains one of the greatest thinkers of his generation. His influence extended to figures like Albert Einstein, who praised him as “a poet without peer” and “one of the smartest and wisest men of all time.”

Goethe’s genius was not confined to individual accomplishments; it stemmed from the incredible depth of history and knowledge he brought to every endeavor. Each of his pursuits—whether writing a play, a poem, or a scientific treatise—was approached with a profound awareness of the past. As he famously stated, “He who cannot draw on 3,000 years is living hand to mouth.”

Few of us can aspire to Goethe’s level of temporal bandwidth, but his example highlights an important truth: the breadth and depth of our engagement with the world enrich our sense of self and the meaning we derive from life. Temporal density isn’t about mastering a single domain—it’s about integrating our experiences, knowledge, and memories into a richer, more layered present.

The Psychology Of Time Meets The Philosophy Of Self

This interplay between time and self has parallels in philosophy, particularly in the work of Martin Heidegger. Heidegger famously argued that human existence is inseparable from time, suggesting that we are not merely entities moving through time but are, in a profound sense, time itself. While abstract, this perspective aligns with the idea that memory, experience, and identity are intertwined with the temporal fabric of our lives.

It’s not merely a philosophical position, but one supported by the insights from neuroscience and psychology. If memory forms the backbone of the narrative self, then our perception of time shapes the contours of our existence. Time is not just an external measure ticking away independently of us—it is deeply personal, woven into the fabric of how we perceive and understand ourselves. Our memories give depth to our identities, while our anticipation of the future propels us forward. Time is both the canvas and the brush, painting the evolving picture of who we are.

But time is not a simple, linear progression. While clocks measure it in uniform units, our subjective experience of time is anything but uniform. Moments of intense focus or emotion seem to expand, while routine or boredom compresses them into a blur. This malleable nature of time suggests that it’s not merely something we move through—it’s something we actively shape and inhabit.

In this way, time might be thought of as having an additional dimension. It moves forward linearly, but it also has depth—a thickness that determines how much of the world we take in as we move. Imagine a snowplow moving through a field: not only does it advance, but its width determines how much it collects along the way. The broader the plow, the richer the experience.

Final Thoughts on the Psychology and Philosophy of Time

Time is more than a backdrop to our lives—it’s the medium through which we experience and define ourselves. Our memories, imperfect and fluid, provide the scaffolding for the narrative self, anchoring us in a sense of continuity even as we change and evolve. At the same time, our perception of time expands and contracts with the richness of our experiences, the novelty of our encounters, and the depth of our engagement with the world.

This intertwining of time and self offers a way to reconsider how we understand our place in the world. If memory connects us to the past and anticipation shapes our future, the present moment is where these threads converge—rich with history and possibility. As Heidegger suggests, we are not separate from time; we are time. Memory, experience, and identity merge to give it texture and meaning, creating a self that is inseparable from the temporal plane.

Photo by Yifei Chen via UnSplash

References for TTWs and The Psychology of Time Perception

Bloom, P. (2021) Being in Time, The New Yorker

Heidegger, M. (1962). Heidegger, Being and Time.

Jacobs, A. (2021). Breaking Bread with the Dead: A Reader's Guide to a More Tranquil Mind. Penguin.

Jacob, S. (2023) Time, Wisdom, and Fulfillment: My Reflections on" 4000 Weeks" by Oliver Burkeman.

Malesic, J. (2023). Do One Thing: Academic Vocation in the Age of Burnout. Intersections, 2023(58), 6.

Lerner, Y., Honey, C. J., Silbert, L. J., & Hasson, U. (2011). Topographic mapping of a hierarchy of temporal receptive windows using a narrated story. Journal of neuroscience, 31(8), 2906-2915.