THE POWER OF MIND. William Walker Atkinson

      Chapter I.

       The Subconscious Storehouse.

       Table of Content

      Treating of the great subconscious region of the mind, lying outside the field of consciousness, which region is the home of the memory, the storehouse of impression received through the senses—The relation of the memory to this great storehouse is discussed, and numerous examples and illustrations are given, showing that nothing is ever forgotten, and how apparently forgotten facts may be recalled under certain circumstances—Our impressions lie hidden in the deep recesses of the subconscious mentality awaiting the hour of their voluntary or involuntary revival—The study of this chapter wiil throw new light on the subject of Memory Culture.

      WE CAN form no clear conception of the nature of memory, or of the rules governing the faculties of remembrance and recollection, unless we understand something about that great region of the mind known to psychologists as the subconscious field of mentation. It was formerly taught that the mind was conscious of all that went on within itself, but the advanced thought of the age now recognizes that consciousness forms but a small part of the total of mental processes. Subconscious ideas, impressions, sensations and thoughts play a most important part in the world of thought. It is now understood that in every conscious act there is much that belongs to the region of the subconscious. In every conscious act there is a background of subconsciousness.

      Back of the field of consciousness lies the great region of subconsciousness. This subconscious region contains many mysteries which are engaging the attention of psychologists and other thinkers, the results of whose investigation and labors are exercising an important influence on the thought of the age. It has been estimated that less than ten per cent of the mental operations of every day life are performed on the conscious plane, the balance of the work being done in the great subconscious regions of the mind. That which we call conscious mentation is but the peaks of submerged mountains, the vast body of the mountains being hidden by the waters. We are as if in a forest in the darkest night, our lantern casting around us a little luminous circle, beyond which is a large ring of twilight, and still beyond this is absolute darkness. And in this twilight, and in this darkness, work is being done, the results of which, when necessary, are pushed forward into the circle of light which we know as consciousness.

      Memory is primarily a function of our subconscious mentality. In the great subconscious region lies the great store­house of Memory. From the moment we receive an impression, until the moment when it is again brought into the field of consciousness, the subconscious faculties are at work. We receive and store away an impression—where do we store it? Not in the conscious region, else it were always before us— down in the depths of the subconscious store­house is it stored, placed among other impressions, often so carelessly that we find it almost impossible to find it when again we need it. Where is it kept during the years that often intervene between the storing away of an impression and its subsequent revival? In this great store­house of the subconscious. What process is employed when we wish to recall an impression? Simply an order going forth from the Will, bidding the workers in the subconscious warehouse to find and bring into the light the impression laid away so long ago. And in the degree that these workers have been trained to do their work and accustom themselves to their task, do they succeed in intelligently obeying the orders of the Will. And in the measure that they have been taught to carefully store away the things committed to their charge, and to carefully note the locations of the treasures committed to them, are they apt and quick in bringing them to light when they are bidden.

      Consciousness cannot be regarded as synonymous with mind. If we treat consciousness and mind as coextensive, and discard the idea of the subconscious field of mentation, we will beat a loss to explain where, during a particular conscious state, all the rest of the mind is; where are all the other bits of mental furniture other than the particular piece then in use. The field of consciousness at any particular moment is very limited, and reminds one of looking through a telescope or microscope where he sees only that which is within the field of the instrument, all outside of that field being as if it did not exist, for the moment. The mind is constantly filled with ideas, thoughts, impressions, etc., of which we are totally unconscious until they are brought into the field of consciousness.

      It is believed that every impression received—every thought that we evolve—every act that we perform—is recorded somewhere in this great subconscious storehouse of the mind, and that nothing is ever absolutely forgotten. Many things that have been apparently forgotten for years, will come into the field of consciousness when summoned there by some association,