Dear Subconscious,
I now perceive you not as an oppressive shadow but as an ever-flowing river that weaves its way through my soul. For so long, you have carried with them unspoken tears, fears unvoiced and memories buried away like old letters in drawers – today, however, I write to you not in fear but with reverence, ready to heal myself and everyone around me.
Wind and Strength. There is something profoundly beautiful in watching how the wind bends trees but does not break them. I once witnessed an oak in a thunderstorm with its branches flailing wildly, yet its roots remaining strong below ground despite everything it went through during the storm; it made me think of you and how your support anchored me even during times when my world felt unstable.
As my silent protector, you have always been there for me, absorbing pain so that I could function and covering up wounds so that I could keep moving forward. Yet, like a tree, I realise now that true strength lies not solely in endurance – it also lies in being able to sway with the wind instead of remaining rigid through it all.
The Garden of Forgotten Emotions
Inside me is an emotional garden I have ignored. Emotions flourish freely like wildflowers, some bright and fragrant, while others become overgrown and thorny. Fearful of what my attention might uncover, I have avoided tending to them for too long.
Yesterday, I met a woman in a coffee shop who described her grief as if it were temporary rather than irrevocable. “I used to think healing meant forgetting,” she lamented, sipping her tea while stirring it gently with her spoon. “Now, however, I realise it means remembering without drowning.”
Her words lingered. My subconscious had long kept these memories at bay, not to punish me but instead to wait until I could bear them myself. Now, as I step into that garden and touch its petals of old joys and its frail stems of past sorrows–they do not belong here, so why try and remove them? They belong here, too.
The Moon and Tides Within
The moon does not fight the ocean; instead, it tugs, and waves respond – sometimes gently, sometimes violently. My emotions have felt similar: uncontrollable, expansive and directed by an unseen force; at first, I resented these feelings as weakness or perceived them as such.
But then I recalled how these tides had transformed the shorelines, smoothing stones and leaving intricate patterns in the sand. Erosion can also be considered creation.
My subconscious has long been my guide. Your rhythmic sadnesses and outbursts of anger don’t constitute flaws but merely patterns I no longer wish to suppress; I want instead to understand their language and tap into its potential.
“Moments of Clarity from Firefly Light Fireflies Lit up My Porch”
Once, while sitting on my porch feeling overwhelmed and uncertain about life’s path forward, a single firefly flashed its tiny, flickering light through the darkness, providing me with hope amid uncertainty. It provided a tiny but persistent light in a vast ocean.
It reminded me of all of the unexpected flashes of insight you’ve given me–dreams that revealed answers, sudden realisations in the shower or an overwhelming sense of understanding when I stopped running. These moments serve as your whispers, your way of steering me when my conscious mind becomes too loud.
Now, I see these interactions for what they genuinely are: dialogue. You are not my enemy; instead, you represent a part of me that remembers and knows, patiently waiting for someone to listen.
Mountains are weighty in their resignation. Mountains don’t shed their rocks instantly; erosion takes time. Even the grandest peaks are formed through a gradual release of what no longer serves their needs.
I think of all of the grudges I’ve held onto for so long, my old versions of myself that have held onto their status, the stories from my past that still haunt me despite growing older, and these burdens I carry, waiting to be shed upon you by me.
One of my friends once advised, “You don’t have to keep what hurts just because it is familiar.” As time passed, I came to understand that healing does not involve erasing the past but selecting which parts should continue along their journey.
At Last – a New Beginning So here I am, subconsciously, writing to you as an ally instead of an enemy. No longer will I ignore your signals: fatigue when I push too hard, dreams that ask for attention or emotions that surface suddenly.
I will sit with them. I will learn from them.
Healers should take comfort from knowing that healing is a journey characterized by spirals, returning time after time to the core of themselves with more compassion each time they return there.
I am ready.
With love,
Forgiveness will follow soon enough with love from The Self Who Learns To Listen.