Experiences of embodied remembering are familiar and diverse. We settle bodily into familiar chairs or find our way easily round familiar rooms. We inhabit our own kitchens or cars or workspaces effectively and comfortably, and feel disrupted when our habitual and accustomed objects or technologies change or break or are not available. Hearing a particular song can viscerally bring back either one conversation long ago, or just the urge to dance. Some people explicitly use their bodies to record, store, or cue memories. Others can move skilfully, without stopping to think, in complex and changing environments thanks to the cumulative expertise accrued in their history of fighting fires, or dancing, or playing hockey. The forms of memory involved in these cases may be distinct, operating at different timescales and levels, and by way of different mechanisms and media, but they often cooperate in the many contexts of our practices of remembering.
Given the dramatic variety of the relevant phenomena, embodied memory is appropriately of interest in both basic and applied studies of many distinctive topics – dance and sport, trauma and therapy, emotion and expertise, to mention just a few. It is a topic which rightly spans not only the range of the cognitive sciences, but also social science and the humanities. Two-way benefits could flow between theory and practice: academic discussions of 'embodied cognition', which can sometimes be curiously abstract or anecdotal, could fruitfully engage with and in turn contribute to rich bodies of lore and expertise among practitioners of bodily skills and well-developed research traditions in fields like sports science, music psychology, and dance cognition.
Human beings are unusual in the variety of ways we relate to our history. Past events can be explicitly and consciously recollected, or can have more implicit influences on body, mind, and action. As well as the many respects in which the cumulative effects of the past drive our biology and our behaviour, we also have the peculiar capacity to think about our histories. We can remember cooking a particular dish on a specific occasion for just that group of friends, though of course such memories are fallible. I remember cooking that meal because I did so, and this past experience is itself also the object of my thought. But we can also remember how to cook, as we show simply by doing so. In the latter case, accumulated experiences are actively embodied in actions. I need not explicitly recollect any specific past events, or even recognize that I am remembering, unless my smooth coping is disrupted. As Edward Casey puts it, such memory is intrinsic to the body: 'because it re-enacts the past, it need not represent it' (1987: 147, 178).