Psalm 232, Now I understand

I understand now why You are whafty, immaterial like smoke. (Except smoke is really dust…)
Why You are spirit,
Coming and going in hearts and in fire and in spiny desert brush without bounds or logic.
Flowing like water. Boundless in gravity.
The physical changes. It ages and breaks. It’s the nature of the thing.
Memories are physical and mark the passing of time like one-thousand-and-ones.
They change, and fade, and break.
Today? Wake, read, eat, work, eat, sleep. Tomorrow? The same. Ticks on a Timex.
Another day.
What jar or pot holds memories, but other memories?