As far as hypnosis is concerned, I had a very serious problem

In the voice of Theodore Sturgeon there is both wit and hidden wisdom: “As far as hypnosis is concerned, I had a very serious problem when I was in my twenties. I encountered a man who later became the president of the American Society of Medical Hypnosis. He couldn’t hypnotize me.” At first, the words sound playful, almost a confession of mischief. Yet within them lies a deeper lesson about the nature of the human will, the mysteries of the mind, and the enduring strength of independence.

Hypnosis, in its essence, is the art of suggestion. It requires not only the skill of the hypnotist but also the surrender of the subject. For no man can be forced into such a state—he must allow himself to be guided, to trust, to release his grip upon control. Sturgeon’s tale reveals that in his youth, even when standing before a master, he would not yield. The hypnotist may have held titles and later rose to prominence, yet still he could not pierce the shield of Sturgeon’s will. This story, then, is not simply about hypnosis, but about the strength of self-possession.

History has long honored those who could not be swayed by enchantment or control. In Homer’s Odyssey, the hero Odysseus resisted the songs of the Sirens, whose voices lured sailors to destruction. Bound to the mast, he kept his mind even as their words sought to enslave him. So too in Sturgeon’s story, though no ropes held him, his own willpower bound him against the suggestion of the hypnotist. The tale echoes an ancient truth: that mastery of the self is greater than mastery by others.

Yet Sturgeon also calls this resistance a serious problem. Why? Because there are times when yielding can heal. Hypnosis has long been used as a tool in medicine—to ease pain, to break habits, to calm the restless mind. His inability to surrender meant that he was denied the benefits that might have come from that practice. Thus, the story reveals both strength and limitation: for a spirit too unyielding may guard itself against harm, but also against help. Here lies a paradox of life itself—that sometimes strength is found in resistance, but at other times, strength is found in surrender.

Consider the tale of Julius Caesar and his refusal to heed warnings. A seer foretold danger on the Ides of March, yet Caesar, unbending in pride, did not yield to caution. His refusal to surrender, even for a moment, led to his fall. Sturgeon’s anecdote, though lighter in tone, carries a similar undertone: that the will that resists all influence may save a man from falsehood, but may also blind him to aid. Thus, wisdom lies in discernment—knowing when to resist, and when to yield.

The lesson for us is profound. Guard your will, and do not surrender it lightly, not to flattery, not to deceit, not to the illusions of those who would control you. Be as Sturgeon was—unyielding before influence that does not serve you. Yet also remember: there is no shame in yielding when the surrender brings healing, growth, or truth. The art of life is to discern the difference, to know when to stand as iron and when to bend as reed.

Therefore, take Sturgeon’s words not merely as a story of failed hypnosis, but as a parable of will and wisdom. Respect the fortress of your mind; do not allow it to be breached without cause. But also, learn the rare art of opening your gates when the one who knocks brings not chains, but light. For in this balance, you will find both freedom and healing, both independence and transformation. And then, whether faced with hypnotists, sirens, or the subtle influences of daily life, you will stand not as one deceived, but as one who walks with conscious strength.