The Forgotten Language

Imagine walking into a dense, twilight forest, where the sun’s light fades and shadows stretch long across the moss-covered ground. The air is thick with mystery, and you hear the distant call of an owl, the rustle of unseen creatures in the underbrush. But something is different about this forest—it's alive, it's communicating with you. Yet, despite its whispers, you struggle to understand. The messages aren’t logical, they don’t make sense in the way you’ve been taught to think. This forest is your unconscious mind, and its language isn’t spoken in words, but in emotions, symbols, and sensations—things you can feel, but not always grasp.

From the moment we are born, we begin walking through this vast forest. In our early years, we wander through it instinctively, guided not by logic but by feelings, sensations, and raw, unfiltered emotions. Our minds are like sponges, absorbing everything around us—every smile, every frown, every word spoken in love or anger. We don’t analyze these moments; we simply experience them. And in the absence of conscious understanding, we store these experiences not as facts but as emotional imprints. These imprints are what we often call emotional trauma.

Trauma isn’t just about what happened to us, but about what happened inside of us when we lacked an empathic witness—someone who was there to be with us as we felt what we felt, without judgment or neglect. Without this compassionate presence, some parts of the forest—our unconscious—become forbidden territory. Shadowed corners where we exile parts of ourselves, parts we believe are unworthy or unacceptable. These exiled parts form what Carl Jung called the shadow self. Hidden deep within the forest, these fragments of ourselves don’t vanish—they whisper through our emotions, our triggers, our relationships, and our habits, waiting for us to listen.

The Language of the Forest

As we were growing up, we were taught many things—math, history, science, philosophy—things that are all part of the language of the conscious mind. But the language of the unconscious—the language of emotions, intuition, dreams, synchronicities—was largely ignored. The unconscious doesn’t speak in words or logic; it speaks in symbols, gut feelings, recurring dreams, and the strange patterns of our lives. And most importantly, it speaks through our emotions and intuition.

Anger, sadness, fear, joy—these aren’t just random sensations; they are messengers from the depths of the forest, carrying vital information. But we were never taught to listen to these messengers. Instead, we learned to suppress, fear, or let them rule us. We were taught to ignore them. Emotions are like travelers in the forest, each carrying a letter with an important message. When we suppress an emotion, we crumple that letter and stuff it into our pocket, pretending it doesn’t exist. But the letter doesn’t disappear. It waits. And the more letters we ignore, the heavier our pockets become—until one day, we are weighed down by an unbearable emotional burden.

The Shadow and Its Tricks

The shadow is not a passive force—it’s clever, resourceful, and evasive. It doesn’t want to be seen, because once it is seen, it can no longer stay hidden. To survive, the shadow uses strategies to remain in the darkness.

Proving a Narrative: It finds people and situations that confirm the stories we believe about ourselves. If we carry the wound of unworthiness, we’ll attract situations that make us feel unworthy.

Example: Sarah grew up feeling like she was never good enough because her parents constantly compared her to her overachieving older brother. As an adult, Sarah’s shadow carries the narrative: “I will never measure up to others.” At work, Sarah avoids taking on challenging projects because she fears failure. But even when she does succeed, she downplays her achievements, believing they were just luck. When a colleague gets promoted, Sarah feels resentment and thinks, “See? I’ll never be as good as them.” Her shadow carefully selects moments that reinforce her belief, filtering out evidence of her own competence.

Distorting Facts: The shadow bends reality to fit its story, filtering out information that contradicts its beliefs.

Example: Mark was abandoned by a close friend in his teenage years during a time he needed support the most. His shadow carries the narrative: “People will always leave me.” When his partner forgets to reply to his text message for a few hours, Mark’s shadow distorts the situation. Instead of seeing it as a simple oversight, he interprets it as a sign of rejection: “They’re pulling away. They don’t care about me anymore.” His shadow twists an innocent scenario to fit its pre-existing story.

Provoking Others: It might unconsciously push others to act in ways that validate its narrative.

Example: Alex has a shadow belief that “People always take advantage of me.” In social settings, Alex frequently offers help but does so with an underlying expectation of reciprocation. When others don’t immediately return the favor, Alex grows frustrated and confrontational: “You’re so ungrateful!” This provocation pushes people away, causing them to withdraw or respond defensively—ultimately reinforcing Alex’s narrative that people are exploitative and unappreciative.

The Defense Mechanisms of the Shadow

The shadow is not always obvious—it can hide behind and fortify itself with defense mechanisms:

Projection: Seeing in others what we cannot accept in ourselves.

Example: Lisa often feels insecure about her intelligence, stemming from childhood experiences where she was criticized for not performing well in school. As an adult, Lisa frequently criticizes her colleagues, saying things like, “They don’t think things through properly,” or, “They’re so careless with their work.” What Lisa doesn’t realize is that her shadow is projecting her own fears of inadequacy onto others. By focusing on their supposed shortcomings, she avoids facing her deep-seated belief that she might not be smart enough.

Reflection: Projection often acts like a mirror. What triggers us most in others is often a disowned part of ourselves that our shadow is hiding.

Avoidance: Distracting ourselves with work, addictions, or endless scrolling to avoid facing the uncomfortable parts.

Example: Tom had a difficult relationship with his father, who was emotionally distant and dismissive. As an adult, Tom feels intense discomfort when confronted with feelings of vulnerability, especially in romantic relationships. Instead of addressing his fear of intimacy, Tom avoids serious relationships altogether, throwing himself into work, hobbies, or casual flings. He tells himself things like, “I’m just not the relationship type,” or, “I’m too busy for love.” In reality, his shadow is using avoidance to prevent him from confronting the painful emotions tied to his fear of rejection and abandonment.

Reflection: Avoidance doesn’t always look like fear—it often wears the mask of busyness, rational excuses, or even indifference.

Rejection: Pushing away qualities in others that we secretly disown in ourselves.

Example: Mia grew up in a home where expressing anger was punished or met with silence. Over time, her shadow learned to exile anger entirely, labeling it as “bad” or “unacceptable.” As an adult, Mia becomes extremely uncomfortable around people who openly express anger or frustration, often labeling them as “dramatic” or “unstable.” But this rejection of others’ anger is actually a reflection of her inability to accept her own anger. She has disowned a natural human emotion and projected it outward as something unacceptable in others.

Reflection: What we strongly reject in others is often a part of ourselves we’ve exiled. Rejection serves as the shadow’s way of keeping that part hidden.

The Principle of Polarity

The forest operates on balance—light and shadow, day and night, growth and decay. These polarities exist within us as well. When we reject one side of this balance, we cling to the other. We reject failure, for example, and become obsessed with success, fearing any misstep. This creates dysfunction in our lives, because rejecting one side means rejecting part of ourselves.

The path toward healing isn’t about eradicating the shadow. It’s about integration. It’s about learning to walk in both the light and the dark, knowing that each holds wisdom for us. The forest will never be fully understood through logic alone; it must be experienced with courage and the willingness to learn its language.

Archetypes: The Guardians of the Forest

Within this vast forest, there are archetypes—universal patterns of behavior that guide our journey. These archetypes carry both light and shadow, active and passive aspects. The Courageous Warrior, for example, has both the Coward and the Bully within. The balanced Warrior is one who integrates these sides—harnessing the caution of the coward and the assertiveness of the bully.

This integration is the essence of individuation—the lifelong journey toward wholeness. The key to finding balance isn’t to eliminate the shadow, but to bring the fragmented parts of ourselves into the light. As we venture into the deeper, darker parts of the forest, we invite those exiled parts of ourselves to return to the whole, and in doing so, we move closer to our true, authentic selves.

Learning the Language

When we learn to speak the language of the unconscious, the forest starts to reveal its secrets. Emotions become trusted guides. Our triggers become opportunities for healing, and our relationships mirror the hidden parts of our inner world. The unconscious is not our enemy; it is our greatest ally.

So, step boldly into the forest. Listen to the rustling leaves, the distant calls, and the quiet whispers of your shadow. For within this vast, mysterious place lies the key to your wholeness, your authenticity, and your deepest truth.