“The silvery light was coming from the basin’s contents, which were like nothing Harry had ever seen before. He could not tell whether the substance was liquid or gas. It was a bright, whitish silver, and it was moving ceaselessly; the surface of it became ruffled like water beneath wind, and then, like clouds, separated and swirled smoothly. It looked like light made liquid or like wind made solid Harry couldn’t make up his mind.” (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, 583)
In Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, immediately prior to the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry stumbles upon the magical pensieve in Dumbledore’s office. The quotation above is from this first scene where he approaches the pensieve, described as a “shallow stone basin…with odd carvings around the edge” (583). Curious, Harry leans in and suddenly finds himself plunged into what is revealed to be one of Dumbledore’s memories. When he asks Dumbledore about the pensieve later, he says, in true mysteriously placid Dumbledore fashion, “I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind” (597).
(^me trying to fend off all the thoughts and responsibilities in my head)
Can you say relatable? When my mom first read me this book, the pensieve was one of the last things on my mind. I was more focused on the Hermione, Ron and Krum love triangle, who it was who put Harry’s name in the Goblet of Fire and (spoiler alert!) my eventual absolute DISTRESS over the death of Cedric Diggory (and the return of Lord Voldemort, too, I guess). Once upon a subsequent reread, however, and this time as a college student, this scene is one of the ones which stands out. Not only is the pensieve a classic brilliant Rowling magical invention, full of clever wordplay and allusions, its purpose and description seem like something I could really get on board with. It’s a stone basin which one can place their extracted thoughts and memories in and then relive them at their leisure.
As a college student, my brain constantly feels like it’s too full, like all the things I’m trying to keep track of are in danger of somehow spilling out, overflowing. So much of our mental energy at a high-achieving university like Notre Dame is spent shifting between different projects, classes or extracurriculars. With all of this on our plates, forget having enough time or energy to process our emotions or social lives! As someone who also struggles with anxiety, this experience is only exacerbated. During times of intense stress, it feels like my brain is going way too fast to keep up with. I sit there, helpless as my mind is bombarded by all my responsibilities and obligations along with stress about friends, relationships and family. I can’t help but feel that this is precisely what Dumbledore meant when he spoke of the feeling of simply having “too many thoughts and memories crammed into [his] mind” (597). However, unlike members of the Wizarding World, us Muggles have no magical basin to dump the excess into and process from a distance.
If this is the case, what’s a muggle girl wishing she were living in a wizarding world to do? This is a question I’ve pondered over, but I think I’ve found the next best thing to a pensieve: a journal. A magical basin it may not be, but it still can be a container to empty errant thoughts into, process emotions with and reread, or experience, specific moments in your life again. It may seem a little silly or childish at first, but there really is almost nothing better than picking up a pen and word-vomiting all over the page, writing down everything going on in your head, relieving that intense pressure for just a little bit. It works almost the same way as a pensieve, but instead of a wand, you’ve got a pen. Pulling the thoughts from your head—the memories, the tears, the joys, the anxieties, the triumphs—and putting them down, memorializing who you are and where you are and what you’re feeling; it’s pretty damn close to magic. Like Dumbledore says, “it becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when [your thoughts] are in this form” (597). Various studies have even shown that journaling or “expressive writing” has been shown to relieve symptoms of anxiety and depression as well as improve your general well-being. What’s not to love?
However, it’s also important to remember that the process of journaling, like the thoughts you fill the journal with, is and should be deeply personal. While a deep-dive into the Pinterest world of bullet-journaling or Studyblr can be beyond soothing, your journal can be as detailed and decorative as you want it to be or as your schedule allows it to be. Julia Cameron advocates for “Morning Pages,” three longhand pages about absolutely anything right when you wake up. Other people (like myself) tend to prefer writing right before bed, emptying out your brain before falling asleep so you can start fresh the next day. There’s no wrong way to journal, and there’s nothing wrong with writing as little or as much as is helpful for you. It’s your journal and your pensieve. Go ahead and dive in!
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