A while ago I was asked to write a blog post about an author event that happened at a library I work at. The author was Rowan Coleman talking about her book “The Memory Book.” The blog never got created in the end so my post didn’t go up. But I was thinking about the main theme of my post: memories.
As a psych student I know all about the technical side of memories: how they are processed, stored, and retrieved. But there’s more to memories than the brain activities.
Memories are a person’s entire life. They are an important part of what makes up a person. J.K. Rowling mentioned memories very often and relied heavily on the ability to view other people’s memories in the Pensieve – the sixth book was mostly made up of viewing memories. She understood the importance of the memories. It was this simple act of learning about Tom Riddles’ past that allowed Harry to destroy him.
But what about in non-magical (muggle 🙂 ) worlds? Are memories simply something in a person’s mind and then lost forever when they are? No, of course not. We create our own Pensieves: in journals and photos, art and books, social media and blogs. All these things that we spend our lives documenting are safe and we can look back at, at any time.
So keep writing, capturing, and saving moments.
Writers Write daily prompt
These are the words of a trouble mind. The troubled mind of a student. Why am I troubled? Well, other than the fact that I’m a student worrying about exams and grades, and that the longer I’m a student the more debts I gather, and the fact that I need to study for several years to qualify for my dream career, and, oh yes, once I am actually qualified, the chances of actually getting a job I want – a good job that will pay off my years of accumulated debt – become slimmer as the years pass.
Besides all that?
I’m troubled by the fact that a magic book appeared to me out of thin air.
The light filters through the trees in a green hue. The ground is uneven but a clear path is cut through the wildlife.
There’s a rustling to the left and a squirrel pops up out of the shrubs on the side. It darts across the path and scuttles up the tree on the other side. It pauses at the top and peers down at the strange beings walking through the forest: humans.
The humans are students taking a break from the demands of busy lives. The four students make their way across the forest, commenting on the beautiful flowers and occasional squirrel they find. The boys hold back some low hanging branches for the girls.
“Even the air out here is different, cleaner,” whispers the one girl, grimacing thinking of the crowded city she calls home.
A gentle rushing of water silences any more conversation.
“I wish we could stay here,” sighs the other girl as they cross the little wooden bridge over the stream.
As if breaking the spell, these words bring the rest of civilisation into view. They emerge from the forest and make their way to the buildings that house all the smart academics.
On the bright side, thought the second girl, at least the main building looks like a castle.