Carl Jung slipped and broke his ankle.
Gerhard Adler’s letter to Neumann is missing.
On 11 February 1944 Jung slipped and broke his ankle.
Twelve days later, probably due to the immobilization following the injury, he developed a pulmonary embolism and suffered a heart attack.
During three weeks of a semiconscious state Jung had a series of visions that he describes in Memories, Dreams, Reflections (Jung, 1961, pp. 293–301). After a year of convalescence Jung suffered a second heart attack in 4 November 1946. ~Jung-Neumann Letters, Page 199, fn 370
Carl Jung: Something else, too, came to me from my illness.
Something else, too, came to me from my illness.
I might formulate it as an affirmation of things as they are: an unconditional “yes” to that which is, without subjective protests acceptance of the conditions of existence as I see them and understand them, acceptance of my own nature, as I happen to be.
At the beginning of the illness I had the feeling that there was something wrong with my attitude, and that I was to some extent responsible for the mishap.
But when one follows the path of individuation, when one lives one’s own life, one must take mistakes into the bargain; life would not be complete without them.
There is no guarantee not for a single moment that we will not fall into error or stumble into deadly peril.
We may think there is a sure road.
But that would be the road of death.
Then nothing happens any longer at any rate, not the right things.
Anyone who takes the sure road is as good as dead. ~Carl Jung, MDR, Page 297
Carl Jung and My illness proved to be a most valuable experience.
Letters of C. G. Jung: Volume I, 1906-1950 (Vol 1)
On February 1, 1945, Carl Jung of his experience to Kristine Mann:
My illness proved to be a most valuable experience, which gave me the inestimable opportunity of a glimpse behind the veil.
The only difficulty is to get rid of the body, to get quite naked and void of the world and the ego-will.
When you can give up the crazy will to live and when you seemingly fall into a bottomless mist, then the truly real life begins with everything which you were meant to be and never reached.
It is something ineffably grand. I was free, completely free and whole, as I never felt before . . . Death is the hardest thing from the outside and as long as we are outside it.
But once inside you taste of such completeness and peace and fulfillment that you don’t want to return … I will not last too long anymore.
I am marked. But life has fortunately become provisional.
It has become a transitory prejudice, a working hypothesis for the time being but not existence. ~Carl Jung; C. G. Jung letters 1: 1906- 1950; pp. 357-9.
Images are Mandalas drawn by Kristine Mann during Analysis with Dr. Jung.
Jung-White Correspondence during Jung’s Illness.
Dear Dr. Jung, Dec. 11, 1946
I am extremely thankful to hear from Miss Schmid that you are now able to read.
I venture therefore to send you a few lines but refrain from saying all that I should like to do.
I need hardly tell you that you are very much in my thoughts and prayers at present, and, as I know, in those of very many other people in England too. . . .
Ever yours sincerely,
Victor White, O.P. ~Victor White, Jung-White Letters, Page 57.
Jung responded: on Dec. 18th, 1946:
Dear Father White,
Thank you for your dear letter.
It is a great consolation to know that one is included in the prayers of fellow beings.
The aspectus mortis (aspect of death) is a mighty lonely thing, when you are stripped of everything in the presence of God. . . .
I am very weak.
The situation dubious.
Death does not seem imminent, although an embolism can occur any time again.
I confess to be afraid of a long drawn-out suffering.
It seems to me as if I were ready to die, although—as it looks to me—some powerful thoughts are still flickering like lightnings in a summer night.
Yet they are not mine, they belong to God, as everything else which bears mentioning.
Please write again to me.
You have a purity of purpose which is beneficial. . . .
I don’t know whether I can answer your next letter again.
But let us hope—
Gratefully yours,
C. G. Jung ~Carl Jung, Jung-White Letters, Pages 59-60
