Prologue: Remembering Janine

Upon receiving a poetic text message one night, I felt as though I was in a lucid dream. The night before, I had dreamt of Janine, who waved at me from afar. I could only see her hands and eyes and, despite wanting to speak, my voice failed me. These dreams often carry significant meaning for me, hinting at unforeseen events.

My inner self nudged me during this lucid dream: “Here we go again; your voice has vanished in a trance! Something is approaching.” Janine had always reached out to me monthly, but it had been three months since my last message from her. Caught up in life changes, I had unintentionally neglected to check in with her or other cherished friends. The dream made me ponder her absence.

I decided to send a quick message: “Hi Janine, it’s been a while since I heard from you. I hope everything is alright.” Hours later, I received a reply: “Hello, this is Sheila, Janine’s daughter. Janine is in heaven now, but I’m sure she appreciates your thoughts.” Initially, I thought it was another lucid dream, given my recent experiences.

Realizing it was indeed reality, I called Sheila, despite never having spoken to her before. I had heard many stories about her from Janine, who often spoke fondly of her. Sheila’s manner on the phone mirrored Janine's, and her words painted a comforting picture of Janine’s peaceful passing. Her acceptance and mindful approach to life were truly admirable.

What Made Janine Special?

Janine was a pivotal figure in my life, akin to a second mother. Despite friends teasing me as a “Metal Head,” Janine affectionately referred to me as “our Turkish delight,” illustrating her platonic love. She introduced me to the concept of spiritual love, which I had been oblivious to before meeting her.

Our paths crossed decades ago in a local sauna, thanks to Algor. Janine was forthright, curious about my background, and listened intently—a testament to her training as a mental health professional. Her genuine interest encouraged me to share my story, a rarity for me, as I typically guarded my personal life.

Janine helped me uncover layers of myself, offering insights that shaped my understanding of my own experiences. Many of our conversations were therapeutic, allowing me to recognize blind spots and heal childhood wounds.

With a rich professional background in mental health, Janine had recently retired after decades as a psychotherapist. Her academic credentials included a doctorate in psychoanalysis and a medical degree in psychiatry. We often discussed influential figures in the therapeutic field such as Jung, Freud, and Beck.

She once met Wilhelm Reich and introduced me to the concept of “orgone energy.” While I had read about it during my postgraduate studies, Janine was the first to clarify it in relatable terms, connecting it to my interests in quantum computing. I expressed a wish that Reich were alive today, and she nodded in agreement.

Reich posited that “orgone deficits” in the body led to chronic illnesses, including cancer, and linked these deficiencies to Freud’s notions of neuroses. This esoteric knowledge resonated deeply with me. Janine’s insights helped me grasp concepts from “The Function of Orgasm,” a foundational text in sexology, blending psychology, psychiatry, sociology, and biology. We found Reich’s multifaceted approach to be more insightful than Freud’s.

Though many dismissed Reich as eccentric, Janine and I appreciated his brilliance and shared our interpretations of his work through various literature and films. While his legacy is fading, some older scholars still discover his writings in antique bookstores or archived journals.

I gleaned immense wisdom from Janine, who I affectionately dubbed my “walking library.” She had an encyclopedic knowledge of significant works related to cognitive science, surpassing many of my professors. Her unique articulation of complex ideas captivated my subconscious, as she transformed intricate concepts into engaging narratives for those around her.

Janine was generous with her affection, often introducing me to influential figures in her circle and engaging in our philosophy group meetings. When I introduced her to Benoit Mandelbrot, she expressed her gratitude by treating my family and me to an opera followed by a delightful barbecue.

A voracious reader, Janine dedicated hours daily to various disciplines and volunteered as a speaker in public libraries, often donating books. She would purchase multiple copies of inspiring reads to share with friends and libraries.

She had an innate ability to see the good in others, never resorting to criticism but rather encouraging positive behavior. Her empathy and compassion were palpable, reinforcing the value of self-love and acceptance.

One memorable sauna incident involved an elderly man who, uncharacteristically, coughed and spat on the hot stones. The room fell silent, but Janine broke the tension with kindness, reassuring him that his actions would benefit his health. They stepped outside for fresh air, where their conversation flourished, exemplifying her ability to uplift others.

Janine and I shared numerous traits, including our eating habits; she, like me, preferred one meal a day and embraced both body and mind exercises, including intermittent fasting. We both enjoyed sauna therapy and were admired by Algor and other centenarians.

Death was a frequent topic of discussion between us, and Janine faced it with acceptance, viewing it as a transformation. She embodied stoic principles, regularly reflecting on the teachings of ancient philosophers, and had a spiritual outlook that I aspired to emulate.

Epilogue

Janine's legacy is filled with beautiful memories that I hold dear. I cherish her handwritten notes with the words “With Love, Janine” in the books she gifted me, along with bookmarks featuring timeless wisdom that recall our heartfelt conversations.

She lives on in the memories of countless clients she supported throughout her psychotherapy career, never allowing them to identify with their mental health struggles. Her warmth and kindness also resonate with her friends, as I envision her in a serene afterlife, as Sheila described.

In closing, I share the story of another dear friend I recently lost, a centenarian who passed on New Year’s Eve.

Every day, I dedicate a few moments to contemplate my own mortality. While it may sound unsettling, this practice fosters a mindful approach to life, intertwining psychology, spirituality, and science. It has positively influenced various aspects of my existence, including my well-being and professional endeavors.

By viewing life and death as interdependent concepts, I draw inspiration from ancient philosophies, particularly Stoicism, which advocates for the contemplation of death to cultivate peace.

Recently, during a prolonged fast, I experienced a lucid dream that envisioned humanity triumphing over severe illnesses in the 33rd century, altering my perspective on life.

Thank you for exploring my reflections. I wish you health and happiness, and invite you to read more stories about the relationships that have enriched my life.