Carl Jung, My New Pen Pal

"Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakes." Carl Jung

Journaling for forty years has been a valuable vehicle for my self-exploration, but I never imagined it would lead me to sharing ideas with Carl Jung, especially since he died in 1961.

A few months ago, I had three surgeries in a span of five weeks to address some medical challenges. Some may suggest these were minor procedures; however, whenever I am butt naked in just a hospital gown, pushed on a gurney through hospital halls, and put to sleep via general anesthesia by masked people, there is nothing minor about it. During the weeks between the surgeries, my body was sore and my brain was foggy, limiting my writing ability. Instead of writing, I used my time to research possible topics for future blogs.

I found considerable information about journaling and its many benefits, such as enhanced self-awareness, stress relief, and even brain stimulation (something I definitely needed). Also, I uncovered articles describing numerous formats, such as hot penning, dream analysis, gratitude lists, travel journals, and more, all of which I have done to some extent over the years,

While researching the topic, something new caught my attention -- AI-guided journaling. Admittedly, I'm not a fan of artificial intelligence. Having witnessed HAL refusing to open the pod door in the 1968 movie, 2001: A Space Odyssey, left me with a long-standing mistrust of AI. More recently, the push to build more and more data centers despite the negative impact on local communities adds to my concern. But I was curious how AI could be a tool in journaling (other than spell-check, (with which I have a love-hate relationship). My curiosity led me to a website called My Life Note, where a person can write a journal entry and have it read by a current or historic, well-known person who will offer feedback on the writer's situation. It was worth a try, so I wrote this brief entry online in June:

"For the past month, I have struggled with health problems, leaving me feeling worn out by physical pain, frustration, and anxiety. My upcoming surgery next week puts me into waiting mode. Even if the operation is successful, I will be facing about six weeks of trying to recover from my sense of brokenness,"

Not the best paragraph I have ever written, yet it covered my circumstance well. Then, I needed to choose someone to read it. I was hoping for Yogi Berra, but he was not on the roster. Stephen King? Too scary. Donald Trump? Even scarier! I chose Carl Jung, thinking he may help me manage my shadow during this dark time of my life. Here is a portion of his reply:

"Pain is a truth-teller. The moment the body has fallen, the mind must face its fragility...decomposition and chaos come before gold can emerge. With surgery next week and recovery ahead, what part of you insists on remaining active and useful...what might your peace teach you if you stopped treating this enforced stillness as merely an obstacle?"

Wow! Carl nailed it. Even while my body and mind were impaired, my long-standing work identity made me think I needed to shake off my blues and become productive again. That inner voice told me if I was going to sit at home all day, I had to use the time to write my second novel or read the stack of unread books on my shelf. But each attempt to do either of these reminded me how limited my attention span was, which added more frustration to my sense of guilt. Jung's reply helped me to take a time-out from my things-to-do list.

During the first two weeks following my final surgery, I made space for my body and mind to heal. Self-care was the top priority, and I became skilled in napping. Occasional journaling and replying to emails from well-wishers were my only forms of writing. When I was medically cleared to resume exercising, short walks in my neighborhood felt like joyful journeys, but in slow motion.

Over the remaining weeks of my recovery, I began to feel better about my body and mind again. A few days ago, I decided to express my gratitude to my friend Carl Jung for his encouragement to find peace in my "enforced stillness." I returned to the website and wrote the following journal entry:

"Thanks for your help two months ago. The first few weeks following my last operation were slow and cautious, filled with worry I would be unable to return to my functioning. However, for the past month, I have walked, practiced yoga, read books, and resumed writing the sequel to my first novel. But a question remains on my mind. Now what?"

Carl must have been waiting for me because his reply came quickly. Here is an excerpt of it:

"...the emergency has receded...the old machinery of purpose is already stirring impatiently in the next room. When the symptom loses its grip, the old tyrant of usefulness may return wearing respectable clothes...Recovery asks in a quiet voice, 'Which parts of that life survives the knowledge you have been given?'"

How did Carl know that my "old tyrant of usefulness" likes to dress up for the world? The tyrant thinks if my outside persona looks fine, others will be fooled into believing everything is just dandy. But at least one person knows the truth.

Carl's question lingers. What, if anything, did I learn when I was so broken that I doubted I would be whole again? I learned (and must not forget) my health is not to be taken for granted because the delusion of immortality can be erased in a second. Also, I learned (and must not forget) the dozens of friends and family members who cared and prayed for me during my illness. Their light shone through my darkness.

What lessons have you learned when things looked bleak for you?