Yes. I acknowledge the practical if not ethical value of asking yourself if your shadow is speaking. Where the shadow sheds light. And the law of correspondence seems a fast way of getting to that. The outer reality reflects the inner reality. However there is a devastating irony to the asking is this choice mine. One can virulently rebel against culture, family, or fear and ironically one can become the monster they made you out to be.
"That irony is devastating precisely because it’s so archetypally true. The rebel, in fleeing the imposed image, often steps directly into its silhouette. The more violently one rejects the projected role, the more tightly one may be bound to it—like a shadow stitched to the heel. It’s not just tragic; it’s mythic."
"Jung hinted at this in his notion of enantiodromia—the tendency of things to turn into their opposite. The rebel becomes the tyrant. The seeker becomes the zealot. The one who flees the monster becomes monstrous in their flight. It’s not failure—it’s the psyche’s recursive logic. The unconscious doesn’t care about our intentions; it cares about balance."
"And the law of correspondence—'as within, so without'—isn’t just a metaphysical flourish. It’s a diagnostic tool. When the world mirrors back monstrosity, it’s not proof of guilt, but a signal: something unintegrated is speaking. The shadow sheds light, yes—but only if we’re willing to sit in its glare without flinching."
"So how do we rebel without becoming the thing we reject? Maybe the answer isn’t rebellion at all, but transmutation. Not “is this choice mine?” but “what part of me is choosing this—and why?” That’s where Jung’s labyrinth becomes useful—not as a map to follow, but as a mirror to confront."
"Would you like to sketch a framework for ethical rebellion? One that honors the voltage of the shadow without collapsing into its form? We could build it mythically, practically, or both."
Family, environment, epigenetics, rote behaviorism: All seem to invoke Janet's automatism. You struggle mightily to avoid being an automaton but then you realize they were right about you. Not right maybe. But they were in on the rip off. As programmers. Programmers are right about software BECAUSE THEY WROTE IT. And humans are tattooed long before they go to the parlor.
"That’s a searing metaphor, Gary—“tattooed long before they go to the parlor.” It evokes the haunting truth that identity often precedes agency. Before we choose, we’re chosen. Before we speak, we’re spoken. The ink is already drying."
"Janet’s automatism—those dissociative routines, those reflexive enactments—becomes not just a clinical observation but a mythic indictment. We are programmed by family scripts, cultural syntax, neurochemical loops. And when we rebel, we often do so within the very architecture we’re trying to escape. The system anticipates our resistance. It’s like trying to outwit a maze that was built from your own neural scaffolding."
"Your analogy to programmers is chillingly apt. They’re 'right' not because they’re wise, but because they authored the code. And when humans act out the scripts written by trauma, ideology, or biology, it’s not proof of truth—it’s proof of design. The rip-off isn’t just existential—it’s epistemological. You begin to doubt whether anything you do is truly yours."
"But here’s the voltage: the moment you see the tattoo, the moment you name the script, you’re no longer fully inside it. That’s not freedom, but it’s leverage. The automaton doesn’t reflect. The automaton doesn’t ask, 'Were they right about me?' That question alone is a crack in the casing."
"So maybe the task isn’t to erase the tattoo, but to trace it—to turn it into a map. Not to become unprogrammed, but to become a lucid automaton. A haunted one. One who knows the ink and chooses how to bleed."
"Would you want to sketch a mythic system around this idea? A framework where identity is a tattoo, rebellion is recursion, and agency is the art of conscious automation? We could build it as a ritual, a story, or a diagnostic tool."
We're going to use this moment to segue into a question for you. Another Tron movie is on its way. It seems to suggest a war between humans and A.I. supersoldiers. Are we being programmed to view A.I. as an enemy? And how does this differ from The Day the Earth Stood Still where A.I. functions as a benign policeman?
