Why Moonwalking with Einstein Still Matters: The Truth About Memory Athletics

Why Moonwalking with Einstein Still Matters: The Truth About Memory Athletics

Joshua Foer was a journalist. He wasn't a genius. He didn't have a "photographic" memory, which, by the way, is basically a myth that scientists like Elizabeth Loftus have spent decades debunking. In 2005, Foer went to cover the U.S. Memory Championship out of professional curiosity. A year later, he won the whole thing.

Moonwalking with Einstein is the story of that year. But honestly, it’s more than just a "how-to" for memorizing decks of cards. It’s a deep, sometimes existential look at what it means to be human in an age where we’ve outsourced our brains to smartphones and Google.

You’ve probably felt that "digital amnesia" lately. You can’t remember your partner's phone number. You get lost without GPS. Foer’s journey suggests we’re losing a fundamental part of ourselves by not exercising our internal hard drives.

The Mental Palace is Real (And Kind of Weird)

The core technique discussed in Moonwalking with Einstein is the Method of Loci. You’ve maybe heard it called a "Memory Palace." It’s ancient. Like, Cicero-level ancient.

The Greeks realized our brains are terrible at remembering abstract lists but incredible at remembering spatial layouts. If I ask you to remember the word "liberty," you might forget it in ten minutes. But if I ask you to imagine a giant, 10-foot tall Statue of Liberty standing in your shower, dripping wet and singing opera, you’ll remember it next week.

That’s the secret sauce.

Memory athletes don't have "better" brains. They just have weirder imaginations. They take mundane data and turn it into lewd, colorful, or hilarious images, then "place" them along a familiar walking path—like your childhood home or your commute to work.

Why "Moonwalking with Einstein"?

The title itself comes from a specific mnemonic Foer used. To remember a deck of cards, he used the PAO system (Person-Action-Object). In this system, every card is a specific person doing a specific action with a specific object. One card might be Albert Einstein. Another card's action might be moonwalking. When you combine them, you get a mental image that is impossible to ignore.

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It’s about making the forgettable unforgettable.

The Myth of the Natural Savant

One of the best parts of the book is when Foer introduces us to people like Kim Peek—the real-life inspiration for Rain Man. Peek could read two pages of a book simultaneously, one with each eye, and remember every word.

But here’s the kicker: Peek’s brain was physically different. He was missing his corpus callosum.

For the rest of us, memory is a learned skill. Foer spent hours every day training with Ed Cooke, a Grand Master of Memory who acts as a sort of eccentric, beer-drinking Yoda throughout the book. Cooke’s philosophy is simple: training your memory is actually about learning to pay attention. Most of what we call "forgetting" is actually just "never noticing in the first place."

Think about it. Did you actually forget where you put your keys? Or did you just never consciously register the act of putting them down because you were thinking about an email?

The OK Plateau: Why You Stop Getting Better

Foer talks about a concept called the "OK Plateau." It’s that point in any skill—typing, golf, driving—where you get "good enough" and your brain goes on autopilot.

Most people reach a certain level of memory and just stay there for life. To win the championship, Foer had to intentionally stay in the "cognitive phase" of learning. He had to force himself to fail, to go faster than was comfortable, and to analyze his mistakes.

It’s a lesson that applies to way more than just memorizing digits of Pi. If you want to improve any part of your life, you have to find ways to get off your OK Plateau.

Is It Actually Useful Today?

Let’s be real. Nobody needs to memorize the order of a shuffled deck of cards in 40 seconds. We have apps for that.

But there is a compelling argument in Moonwalking with Einstein about the relationship between memory and intelligence. The more we know, the more hooks we have to hang new information on. If you don't remember anything about history, a new book about the French Revolution will have nowhere to "stick" in your brain.

Internalized knowledge allows for creativity. You can't connect the dots if you haven't stored any dots to begin with.

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Actionable Insights for Your Own Memory

If you want to move beyond just reading about these feats and actually try them, here is how you start. Don't worry about winning championships. Just try to remember your grocery list without your phone.

  • Audit your attention. Next time you meet someone, say their name back to them immediately. "Nice to meet you, Sarah." This forces your brain to process the data rather than letting it slip through your ears.
  • Build a "Starter" Palace. Pick your current bedroom. Choose five "stations" (the bed, the closet, the window, the desk, the door).
  • Exaggerate everything. If you need to remember to buy milk, don't just imagine a carton. Imagine a cow sitting on your bed, wearing your favorite pajamas, milking itself. The more ridiculous, the better.
  • Practice Retrieval, Not Review. Don't just keep reading the same list. Cover it up and try to "see" it in your mind. The effort of searching your brain is what actually strengthens the neural pathways.
  • The Baker/baker Paradox. This is a classic psychological concept mentioned in the book. If I tell you a man's last name is Baker, you’re likely to forget it. If I tell you a man is a baker, you’ll remember. Why? Because the profession "baker" comes with a whole world of associations—white hats, the smell of bread, flour-covered hands. When you memorize something, turn it into a "baker" (a vivid concept) rather than a "Baker" (a flat name).

Memory is a muscle. It’s not a container that gets full; it’s a web that gets stronger the more you use it. Joshua Foer’s journey proves that the average person is capable of extraordinary things if they’re willing to be a little bit weird with their imagination.

To truly master these concepts, begin by mapping out your childhood home. Identify ten distinct furniture items in a specific sequence. Tomorrow, attempt to "place" ten items from your to-do list onto those furniture pieces using the most vivid, multisensory imagery you can conjure. You will likely find that the information persists far longer than a digital notification ever could.