Many mental impressions probably never will be brought again into the field of consciousness, there being no need for such bringing forth, but will remain in the subconscious region silently but powerfully molding our thoughts, ideas and actions. Other impressions will lie hidden in the deep recesses of the mind, awaiting the hour of their renewed use, just as future light and heat lie hidden in the coal in the uncovered strata of the earth’s surface, awaiting the time when it will be brought forth for use.
We are at any one time conscious of but a very small part of what is stored away in the mind. Many things which seem to have been forgotten, and which we have often endeavored to recall, will at some time come apparently unbidden into the field of consciousness, as if of its own accord. We often try to recall a thing, but it proves elusive, and we cease our efforts, but after a time, suddenly, the idea flashes forth right in the glare of consciousness. It would seem that our desire for recollection often starts into operation the silent workers of the subconsciousness, and long after, when we have almost forgotten the desire, they return triumphantly dragging the desired impression with them. Then again, a chance word of another may open up vast fields of memory, of whose existence we may have long since lost sight. Often in a dream we will see long forgotten faces, hear and recognize voices whose tones had faded away many years ago. Many events which have been so completely forgotten that no effort of the will seems able to recall them, still seem to be firmly imbedded somewhere in the subconsciousness, and some extraordinary stimulus, strain, or physical condition brings them forth as fresh and vivid as the impression of yesterday.
Persons in the delirium attending fever will often speak of things which they had entirely forgotten, and of which they failed to recall a single particular after their recovery, but which, upon investigation, proved to have actually occurred in their childhood or youth. It is stated that a drowning man will often recall the events of his past life, and many interesting experiences along this line are related in the standard works on the subject of psychology. Sir Francis Beaufort after being rescued from drowning, stated that “every incident of my former life seemed to pass before my recollection in a retrograde succession, not in mere outline, but the picture being filled up with every minute and collateral feature, constituting a kind of panoramic view of my entire existence.”
Coleridge relates the tale of a young woman who could neither read nor write, who, being seized with a fever, began talking in Latin, Greek and Hebrew. Whole sheets of her ravings were written out, and were found to consist of sentences intelligible in themselves, but having slight connection with each other. Of her Hebrew sayings only a few could be traced to the Bible, and most seemed to be of Rabbinical dialect. The woman was grossly ignorant, and all trickery seemed out of the question, and she was generally believed to be possessed of a devil. A physician who doubted the theory of demoniacal possession, determined to solve the mystery, and after much trouble discovered that at the age of nine she had been cared for in the household of an old clergyman. The clergyman was in the habit of walking up and down a passage of the house into which the kitchen opened, reciting to himself passages of the Rabbinical writings, and quotations from the Latin and Greek Fathers. His books were examined and every passage which the girl had uttered was found to be therein contained. The fever had caused the subconsciousness storehouse to bring forth some of its oldest treasures.
Carpenter relates the story of an English clergyman who visited a castle of which he had no recollection of having ever seen before. But as he approached the gateway he became conscious of a very vivid impression of having been there before, and seemed to not only see the gateway itself, but donkeys beneath the arch, and people on top of it. He was much wrought up over the matter, and some time afterward inquired of his mother whether she could throw any light upon the subject. She informed him that when he was a little child of but eighteen months of age, she had gone with a large party to that particular castle, and had taken him in the pannier of a donkey; that some of the people took their lunch on the roof of the gateway, while the child had been left below with the attendants and donkeys. On the occasion of the second visit the sight of the gateway brought up all the old childish recollection, although it seemed like a dream.
Abercrombie relates the story of a lady dying in a house in the country. Her infant daughter was brought from London to visit her, and after a short interview returned to town. The mother died, and the infant grew into womanhood without the slightest recollection of her mother. When she was a middleaged woman she chanced to visit the house in which her mother died, and entered the room itself, although not knowing it to be the one in which the mother had passed away. She started upon entering the room, and when a friend inquired the cause of her agitation, said that she had a most vivid recollection of having been in that room before, and of the fact that a lady who lay in that corner, and who seemed to be very ill, had leaned over her and wept. And so the impression stored away in the subconscious storehouse of that baby brain, had remained there unknown, until its owner had grown to middleage, when at the sight of the room the impression was revived and memory gave up some of its secrets.
There are the best possible grounds for asserting that nothing is ever absolutely forgotten, once it has been impressed upon the mind. No impression, once recorded, ever ceases to exist. It is not lost, but merely becomes obscure and exists outside of the field of consciousness, to which however it may be recalled long afterward by some act of the will, or some association, according to the circumstances of the case. It is true that many impressions are never revived, either by volitional effort or involuntarily through association, but the impression is still there and its influence is manifest in our act and thoughts. If we could reach the depths of the subconscious mentality, we would find there every impression ever received by the mind— records of every thought that had ever been born to us—the memory of every act of our life. All these things would be there— unseen but exerting a subtle influence over us. We are what we are today, because of what we thought, said, saw, heard, felt and did yesterday. Man is a composite of his yesterdays. There is not a single thought or act or impression of our past life that has not had its influence in fixing our present intellectual and moral condition. Our opinion and thoughts today are largely the result of a long succession of little experiences of the past, long since forgotten, perhaps never to be recalled.
In other chapters of this book, we will take up the subject of training the subconscious faculties, to carefully store away, to remember the location of what they take in charge, and to quickly find and bring forth, at the behest of the Will, the desired thing. We will see that the memory is capable of infinite improvement, training and culture. When we realize that nothing is absolutely “forgotten,” we begin to see the great possibilities in the direction of improvement in the art of receiving impressions, storing them away, and recalling them. We will see that the more clearly we impress upon the subconscious mentality, the more carefully we store away that impression, the more easily will we be able to bring it again into the field of consciousness. And we will see how wonderfully the subconscious workers may be trained to seek and find that which we want—how we may direct them as we would any others subject to our orders.
Chapter II.
Attention and Concentration.
Treating of the law of psychology that the intensity of the original impression determines the degree of future remembrance or recollection, and that the intensity of the original impression is proportionate to the attention given the subject or object producing the impression—Showing how the subconscious mentality stores away the impressions received, and how those which are carefully stored away may be more easily found and brought into the field of consciousness. Examples and illustrations are given, and the matter of attention, interest and concentration is discussed in their relation to Memory Culture.
IT IS a law of psychology that the intensity of the original impression determines the degree of the future remembrance or recollection, and that the intensity of the impression is proportionate to the attention given the subject or object producing the impression. The experiences which leave the most permanent and intense impress upon the mind are those upon which the highest degree of attention has been bestowed. Some authorities go still further and hold that attention to the matter in hand is the most important intellectual