"The only thing that moves here is the light," Grace (Nicole Kidman) says in "The Others" (2001) Why must this rich woman claim, "This house is ours. This house is ours." Because daughter Anne says, "They're everywhere, they say this house is theirs." "They" turn out to be ghosts.
But The Others is not a ghost movie. It is the compelling tale of a woman who controls her children by claiming they are photosensitive. If daylight strikes them, they will die. The metaphor is clear: Truth, like her friends Beauty & Memory, needs light.
Even though our Memory Houses are ours there is a vast difference in how each treats the trove that lives in their rooms.
As one who, even as a child, dwelt on memories, I understand why some treasure them so much they will open doors to horror as well as joy & why others try to avoid that place in their heart.
It can take courage to let light in. We require a powerful reason.
"I can't stand to look at them," my late father-in-law, Leif Lokvam, M.D., would understandably say when invited to view happy family slides, "Too painful."
An enlightening home of memory is a Facebook site, RMH Alum (Riverside Methodist Hospital.) Marvelously, its over 3000 followers show how important that hospital was too so many. It is mostly a joyful site even though the place we worked was, by definition, filled with people in deep need.
"There never has been a good day in a hospital," my late friend & former RMH CNO, Marian Hamm wrote. Of course, hospitals are filled with the sick. But Marian's leadership that care at Riverside would be no ordinary hospital.
The RMH Alum site is a powerful House of Memories. One room holds 12 years of memories for me. The great light I experienced then came because the caregivers that worked there were not employees. They were healers. Beyond curing, they engaged a greater gift: Light.
-Erie Chapman
If you appreciate the Journal, please contribute to the charity that supports it: https://www.eriechapmanfoundation.net. THANK YOU. -erie
