I've always been fascinated by memory and I remember Jonah, when

When Lisa Joy said, “I’ve always been fascinated by memory and I remember Jonah, when we first started dating, was working on something involving memory. It was early on in our relationship and I was like, damn it, I wanted to do a movie on memory. That was Memento,” she spoke not only of creativity, but of the deep and mysterious power of memory itself — that divine thread which binds the past to the present and gives identity to the soul. In her words lies both admiration and longing: admiration for her partner’s work, and longing for the subject that had already taken root in her own imagination. This is not merely a recollection of artistic coincidence; it is a meditation on memory as the foundation of love, art, and selfhood.

The origin of this quote lies in Lisa Joy’s early years with Jonathan “Jonah” Nolan, the screenwriter of Memento and later her creative partner in Westworld. When she speaks of her fascination with memory, she is speaking as both a storyteller and a human being. For memory, to her, is the seed from which all stories grow — the fragile vessel that carries our joys, our griefs, our mistakes, and our wisdom. In that early spark of competition and connection between her and Jonah, there was the birth of something greater than either could foresee: a creative partnership built on mutual fascination with the labyrinth of the human mind. Their shared obsession with memory would later define their work together, exploring how recollection shapes not only who we are, but what we believe to be real.

In truth, memory has always been one of humanity’s greatest mysteries. The ancients regarded it as sacred, almost divine. In Greek mythology, Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory, was the mother of the Muses — for from memory, all art was born. Without memory, there can be no poetry, no history, no love; for every act of meaning depends on remembering what came before. When Lisa Joy expresses her fascination with memory, she echoes this ancient wisdom. She recognizes that memory is not simply a record of the past — it is the living architecture of consciousness. To lose it, as Memento so hauntingly depicts, is to lose the self entirely. To understand it, as Joy aspires, is to grasp the very mechanism by which we make sense of existence.

There is also tenderness in her words — a glimpse into the early intimacy of creation and companionship. She speaks of that time “early on in our relationship” when ideas and emotions intertwined, when love and ambition shared the same breath. The spark of jealousy she admits — “damn it, I wanted to do a movie on memory” — is not bitterness but kinship, the recognition of a shared flame. In that moment, she was not only meeting the man she would love, but the mirror of her own creative soul. This is how the ancients described the meeting of kindred spirits — not as rivalry, but as resonance, the harmony of two minds drawn toward the same eternal question.

Consider the story of Aristotle and Plato, master and student, each fascinated by the nature of memory and knowledge. Plato likened the mind to a wax tablet upon which impressions are made; Aristotle, expanding on this, described memory as the echo of perception, the soul’s dialogue with time. And though the student sought to surpass the master, their works together built the very foundation of Western thought. In the same way, Lisa Joy’s story with Jonah Nolan reminds us that collaboration often springs from mutual obsession, and that rivalry, when rooted in respect, can give rise to creation greater than either alone could achieve.

But beyond the artistry, there is a deeper wisdom here: that memory is the soul’s storyteller. Every relationship, every work of art, every act of love, is built on the accumulation of remembered moments. To explore memory is to explore what it means to be human — to face both the beauty and the fragility of recollection. For memory deceives as easily as it reveals; it heals as it wounds. The one who seeks to understand it, as Joy does, becomes both philosopher and poet, diving into the ocean of consciousness where truth and illusion are forever intertwined.

So, what lesson may we draw from Lisa Joy’s reflection? It is this: cherish memory, but also question it. Let your memories guide your art and your love, but do not let them bind you to the past. Remember that creativity often springs not from ownership of an idea, but from shared wonder at the same mystery. When another’s work stirs the same fascination within you, do not envy — awaken. For as Joy’s words remind us, it is through our fascination — through the dialogue between hearts and minds — that we reach the deepest truths of existence. The memory of one may inspire the vision of another, and together, they create what will itself become the memory of generations to come.