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God Speaks to His Chosen Ones Through Addiction | Carl Jung

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Summary

Core Theme

Addiction, as conceptualized by Carl Jung, is not a sign of weakness or a curse, but a profound spiritual language through which a higher power communicates with chosen individuals, guiding them toward transformation by revealing hidden aspects of their soul and directing them towards inner truth.

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What if I told you that your addiction

is not a curse, but a language, a secret

way in which God speaks to his chosen

ones? Carl Jung made a discovery so

shocking that religion could never

accept it. Addiction is not simply human

weakness. It is the whisper of a higher

force trying to awaken something buried

deep within the soul. You see, while

most people see addiction as punishment,

Jung understood it as a spiritual

dialogue. The endless craving, the

obsession, the guilt, the cycle of

falling and rising again. None of it is

random. It is how God communicates with

those he intends to transform.

Every addiction carries a message, a

hidden code meant only for those strong

enough to face it. Alcohol, lust,

control, ambition, pain, they are not

accidents. They are symbols of hunger

pointing to what your soul has

forgotten. And only those marked by

divine purpose experience this inner

fire so intensely. Do you ever feel

trapped by your own desires yet unable

to let them go? That paradox is the

proof because Jung found that the more

you fight what you crave, the further

you move from what it's trying to teach

you. Addiction is not here to destroy

you. It's here to reveal you. God speaks

through the storm of your compulsions,

through the urges you don't understand.

He speaks in the silence after every

fall when you can't recognize yourself

anymore because that's the moment he

begins to reshape you. So before you

condemn your addiction, listen. It may

be the most personal conversation you've

ever had with God, one that can only be

heard by souls chosen to awaken. There

is a hunger inside you that nothing

seems to satisfy. You try to fill it

with substances, with people, with

achievements, with distractions. But no

matter how much you consume, the

emptiness returns stronger, deeper, more

demanding than before. Jung called this

the spiritual thirst. He believed that

every addiction begins as a search for

something sacred, something lost. When

you reach for that drink, that

substance, that forbidden pleasure, you

are not simply being weak. You are

responding to a call you do not yet

understand. Your soul is screaming for

meaning. And addiction is the only

language it knows how to speak. This

thirst is ancient. It has been with

humanity since the beginning. But not

everyone feels it with the same

intensity. Only certain souls carry this

burden, this relentless craving that

refuses to be ignored. These are the

ones Jung identified as chosen, marked

by a divine restlessness that will not

let them settle for ordinary life. You

see, most people can drink without

becoming addicted. Most people can

experience pleasure without losing

themselves to it. But you cannot. And

that is not your weakness. That is your

sign. The thirst that cannot be quenched

is proof that something greater is

trying to reach you, trying to pull you

toward a transformation you keep

resisting. Jung discovered that

alcoholics in particular carried a

unique spiritual wound. He saw that

their addiction was not about the

alcohol itself. It was about the

desperate attempt to touch something

transcendent, something beyond the

mundane reality that felt too small for

their souls. They drank to feel

connected, to feel alive, to feel

anything other than the suffocating

emptiness of a world without magic. But

here is the twist. The addiction itself

becomes the barrier. The very thing you

use to satisfy your thirst becomes the

thing that keeps you thirsty. You drink

to feel whole, but the drinking

fractures you further. You chase the

high to escape the pain, but the high

deepens the pain. It is a paradox, a

cruel cycle that seems designed to break

you. Yet, Jung insisted this was

intentional. This cycle is not random

chaos. It is a divine mechanism, a

spiritual test designed specifically for

those strong enough to endure it. God

does not speak to everyone through

addiction because not everyone needs

this particular lesson. But for those

who do, the message is always the same.

What you seek outside yourself can only

be found within. The thirst you feel is

real. But you have been looking in the

wrong direction. You have been trying to

satisfy a spiritual need with material

solutions. You have been trying to fill

a god-shaped hole with things that can

never fit. And every time you try, the

hole grows larger. The thirst grows

stronger and you feel more lost than

before. This is where most people give

up. They see the endless cycle and

conclude they are broken, cursed,

unworthy. But Jung saw something

different. He saw that the intensity of

your craving is proportional to the

depth of your calling. The more you

suffer, the greater your potential for

awakening. The thirst that cannot be

quenched is not your punishment. It is

your preparation. God speaks to his

chosen ones through this impossible

hunger because only through it can they

learn the most important truth. Nothing

in this world will ever be enough. Not

success, not love, not power, not

pleasure, nothing. And once you truly

understand this, once you stop fighting

it and start listening to it, the thirst

begins to transform. It stops being

about filling yourself and starts being

about emptying yourself. It stops being

about escape and starts being about encounter.

encounter.

The craving that once drove you to

destruction becomes the doorway to

something you never imagined possible. A

direct connection to the divine source

that has been calling you all along. But

you cannot reach this point while you

are still fighting. You cannot hear the

message while you are still drowning in

guilt and shame. You must first accept

that your addiction is not your enemy.

It is your teacher, your guide, the

thorn in your flesh that will not let

you rest until you finally turn inward

and face what you have been running

from. The thirst will never be quenched

by anything outside you. That is the

brutal truth Yung understood. But here

is the hope. It was never meant to be.

The thirst is the call. The craving is

the invitation. And your addiction is

the only thing powerful enough to force

you to finally answer. You have tried to

quit a thousand times. You have promised

yourself, promised others, maybe even

promised God that this time would be

different. And yet you fell again and

again and again. Each relapse feels like

proof of your failure. evidence that you

are too weak, too broken, too far gone

to ever be saved. But what if falling is

not the opposite of rising? What if

every collapse is actually a step

forward in a journey you do not yet

understand? Jung believed that the

repeated cycle of addiction and relapse

was not a sign of failure but a

necessary descent into the parts of

yourself you have spent your whole life

avoiding. He called it the encounter

with the shadow.

This is the dark side of your

personality. The aspects of yourself you

reject, deny and bury deep beneath the

surface. Your anger, your shame, your

fear, your hidden desires, everything

you pretend does not exist. But

addiction has a way of dragging all of

it into the light. Every time you fall,

you are forced to confront something

true about yourself, something you would

never face if life were comfortable. The

addict cannot hide behind social masks

or polite pretenses. The addiction

strips away all the layers, all the

defenses until you are standing naked

before yourself and before God. And that

is precisely the point. Most people go

through life never truly knowing

themselves. They build identities based

on what others expect, what society

approves, what feels safe. But the

chosen ones, the ones marked by

addiction, do not have that luxury. They

are forced into the depths whether they

want to go or not and every fall takes

them deeper. Jung understood that this

descent is sacred. In ancient myths and

spiritual traditions, the hero always

has to descend into the underworld

before they can ascend to the heavens.

They have to face the monsters, the

demons, the parts of themselves they

fear most. Only then can they claim

their true power. Only then can they be

reborn. Your addiction is your

underworld. Every relapse is another

layer peeled away. Another illusion

shattered, another false self destroyed.

It feels like death because in a way it

is. But death is not the end. It is the

beginning of transformation. And God

speaks most clearly in the places where

you feel most lost. You see, the falling

is not random. It follows a pattern, a

rhythm that Jung recognized as deeply

spiritual. You rise with hope. You fall

with despair. You rise again with

determination. You fall again with guilt

over and over. And each cycle teaches

you something essential. You cannot save

yourself through willpower alone. You

cannot overcome this through discipline

or control or sheer determination. This

is the hardest lesson for the chosen

ones to learn because most of you are

fighters. You are strong, capable, used

to conquering obstacles through force of

will. But addiction does not respond to

force. The harder you fight it, the

stronger it becomes. The more you resist

it, the tighter its grip. And so you

must learn to stop fighting and start

surrendering. Surrender does not mean

giving up. It means recognizing that you

are facing something more powerful than

your ego, something that requires a

different kind of strength. It means

admitting that you need help. That you

cannot do this alone. That the path

forward is not up but down. Further into

the darkness, further into the unknown,

further into the parts of yourself you

have spent your whole life running from.

Jung found that those who eventually

break free from addiction do not do so

by conquering it. They do so by

integrating it. They stop seeing their

shadow as the enemy and start seeing it

as a part of themselves that needs to be

understood, accepted and transformed.

They stop fighting the fall and start

learning from it. Each time you

collapse, you are being given a gift. A

chance to see yourself more clearly. a

chance to understand why you crave what

you crave. Why you run from what you run

from, why you hurt in the ways you hurt.

And with each fall, if you are willing

to look, you come closer to the truth

that will set you free. The path is not

a straight line upward. It is a spiral

downward and then upward again and again

until you finally reach the center. And

at the center you will find what you

have been searching for all along. Not

in the substance, not in the high, not

in the escape, but in the person you

become through the journey of falling

and rising, breaking and healing, dying

and being reborn. There is a part of you

that watches from the corner of your

mind. It knows every secret you keep,

every lie you tell yourself, every

moment of weakness you pretend never

happened. This is not your conscience.

This is something older, something

deeper. Jung called it the shadow, and

it has been with you since birth,

growing stronger with every truth you

refuse to face. Your addiction feeds on

this shadow. It thrives in the darkness

of everything you deny about yourself.

The rage you swallow. The pain you

ignore, the desires you label as

shameful. All of it gets pushed down

into this hidden place. And there it

waits, gaining power until one day it

erupts in ways you cannot control. You

think your addiction is about weakness.

But Jung saw it differently. He

understood that addiction is the

shadow's way of forcing itself into your

awareness. It is not trying to destroy

you. It is trying to be seen, to be

heard, to be acknowledged. Because what

you refuse to face in the light will

eventually consume you in the dark.

Every craving carries a message from

your shadow. When you reach for that

drink, that drug, that destructive

behavior, you are not simply seeking

pleasure or escape. You are responding

to a part of yourself that has been

silenced for too long. A part that holds

truths you are terrified to admit. A

part that knows exactly who you are

beneath all the masks you wear. Most

people spend their entire lives running

from their shadow. They build

comfortable lives, surround themselves

with distractions, and never look too

closely at the darkness within. But God

does not choose those people for this

particular journey. He chooses the ones

who cannot run. The ones whose shadows

refuse to stay hidden. The ones whose

inner darkness becomes so loud it drowns

out everything else. This is why your

addiction feels so powerful, so

overwhelming, so impossible to resist.

It's not just a habit or a chemical

dependency. It is your shadow demanding

recognition. And the more you fight it,

the more you judge it, the more you hate

yourself for it, the stronger it

becomes. Because shadows grow in

proportion to the light you try to force

upon them. Jung discovered something

revolutionary. You cannot kill your

shadow. You cannot prey it away,

discipline it away, or shame it away.

The only way forward is through

integration. You must turn toward the

darkness, look it in the face and say

its name. You must acknowledge the parts

of yourself you have spent years

denying. The anger, the selfishness, the

fear, the weakness, the hunger for

things you were taught to reject. This

is terrifying work. It requires a kind

of courage most people will never need.

Because when you finally look at your

shadow, you see everything you have been

taught to despise. You see the monster

you were convinced you could never be.

You see the truth that society, family,

religion all told you to hide. And in

that moment, you have a choice. Reject

it again and sink deeper into addiction

or accept it and begin the process of

transformation. The chosen ones are

given this burden because they have the

capacity to bear it. God knows that not

everyone can face their shadow and

survive. Not everyone can stare into

their own darkness without being

consumed by it. But those marked by

addiction have no choice. Their shadow

will not let them rest. It will keep

pushing, keep demanding, keep destroying

everything they build until they finally

stop running and turn around. When you

do, something unexpected happens. The

shadow does not destroy you. Instead, it

reveals gifts you never knew you had.

Hidden within your darkness are

strengths you suppressed, talents you

ignored, truths you were afraid to

speak. Your shadow knows who you really

are, stripped of all pretense and social

conditioning. And once you integrate it,

once you accept it as part of yourself,

the addiction begins to lose its power.

Because addiction only has control when

you are divided against yourself. When

part of you wants to stop and another

part cannot. When your conscious mind

says no but your shadow says yes. This

internal war is exhausting and the

addiction feeds on that exhaustion. But

when you finally make peace with your

shadow, when you stop fighting yourself

and start understanding yourself, the

war ends.

Jung believed that this integration was

the true goal of spiritual development.

Not perfection, not purity, not becoming

some idealized version of yourself, but

wholeness. Becoming complete by

accepting all parts of yourself, light

and dark, good and bad, noble and

shameful. This is what it means to be

truly human. This is what God is trying

to teach his chosen ones through the

brutal classroom of addiction. Your

shadow knows your name because it is

you, the real you, the complete you. Not

the version you show the world, but the

version that exists beneath all the

layers of conditioning and fear. And

until you acknowledge it, until you

speak its name out loud and claim it as

your own, you will never be free. The

addiction will continue because the

shadow will continue demanding to be

seen. But once you do this work, once

you face what you have been running

from, something miraculous happens. The

craving that once controlled you becomes

a compass pointing toward your hidden

self. The addiction that once destroyed

you becomes the catalyst for your

greatest transformation. And the shadow

that once terrified you becomes your

most trusted guide into the depths of

your own soul. The bottle promises peace

but delivers chaos. The substance offers

freedom but brings chains. The behavior

guarantees pleasure but produces pain.

This is the great deception of addiction

and Yung understood it completely. What

you crave is never what you actually

need. You already know this. Every time

you give into the craving, there is a

moment of relief, maybe even joy, but it

never lasts. Within hours, sometimes

minutes, the emptiness returns deeper

than before, hungrier than before, and

you find yourself right back where you

started. Except now you carry the

additional weight of guilt and shame.

This cycle is not an accident. It is a

design. Because the craving is not about

the substance or the behavior at all. It

is about something missing inside you.

something that has been absent for so

long you have forgotten what it feels

like. Jung called this the god-shaped

void and he believed that every

addiction is ultimately a misdirected

search for the divine. You are looking

for transcendence in a bottle. You are

searching for meaning in a high. You are

trying to find love in behaviors that

isolate you. The direction is wrong, but

the impulse is sacred. Deep within your

soul, you know there is something more,

something greater, something beyond the

ordinary experience of life. And you

will do anything to touch it, even if it

destroys you in the process. This is why

simple solutions never work. People tell

you to just stop, to have more

willpower, to think about the

consequences, but they do not understand

that your addiction is not about the

thing itself. It is about what that

thing represents. It is a symbol, a

placeholder for the spiritual connection

you have lost or never had. When you

drink, you are not really drinking. You

are trying to dissolve the barriers

between yourself and something infinite.

When you use, you are not really seeking

a high. You are trying to escape the

prison of your limited perception. When

you engage in destructive behaviors, you

are not really pursuing pleasure. You

are trying to feel alive in a world that

has made you numb. Jung saw this pattern

in every addict he worked with. They

were not morally weak or fundamentally

flawed. They were spiritually hungry in

a world that had forgotten how to feed

the soul. They were seeking God in all

the wrong places because nobody had

taught them where to look. and their

addiction was both the problem and the

pointer, simultaneously destroying them

and showing them what they truly needed.

The great tragedy is that what you crave

will never satisfy the need beneath it.

You can drink an ocean and still be

thirsty. You can chase every high and

still feel empty. You can engage in the

behavior a million times and still feel

disconnected because you are using

finite things to satisfy an infinite

hunger. You are using material solutions

for spiritual problems and it will never

ever work. But here is where the

teaching becomes profound. The fact that

nothing satisfies you is not a curse. It

is a clue. It is God whispering through

your dissatisfaction,

telling you that you were made for

something more. Your inability to be

content with ordinary pleasures is

actually evidence of your extraordinary

calling. You are marked by divine

restlessness and that restlessness will

not let you settle until you find what

you are truly looking for. Jung believed

that addicts were closer to God than

most people precisely because of this

hunger. They could not be satisfied with

comfortable lies or shallow pleasures.

They needed something real, something

deep, something that could actually fill

the void. And though their methods were

destructive, their instinct was correct.

There is something more, and it is worth

any sacrifice to find it. The shift

happens when you stop trying to satisfy

the craving and start investigating it.

When you pause before reaching for your

substance and ask, "What am I really

looking for right now? What do I hope

this will give me? Connection, peace,

escape, meaning." And then you ask the

deeper question, where can I actually

find that? This is when the addiction

begins to transform from master to

teacher. The craving becomes a signal

alerting you to unmet needs, unhealed

wounds, unfulfilled longings. Instead of

judging it or fighting it, you start

listening to it. You start treating it

as valuable information about your inner

world. And slowly you learn to

distinguish between the surface desire

and the deeper need beneath it. What you

crave is not what you need. The alcohol

is not the answer. The drug is not the

solution. The behavior is not the cure.

But the craving itself, when properly

understood, becomes the map that leads

you home. It shows you exactly what is

missing, exactly what your soul is

starving for, exactly where you need to

direct your attention. And when you

finally give yourself what you actually

need when you feed your soul instead of

your addiction, something shifts. The

craving does not disappear immediately,

but it changes quality. It becomes less

desperate, less consuming, less powerful

because you are no longer trying to fill

a spiritual void with material things.

You are finally addressing the real

hunger that has been driving you all

along. There is a wound inside you that

never closes. You have tried everything

to make it go away. You have numbed it,

ignored it, covered it with distractions

and achievements and relationships. But

no matter what you do, it remains raw,

open, bleeding beneath the surface of

your carefully constructed life. Jung

understood that some wounds are not

meant to heal in the conventional sense.

They are not mistakes or accidents or

punishments. They are sacred marks

placed deliberately on souls chosen for

a specific purpose. These wounds are

doorways and your addiction is what

keeps forcing you back to stand in front

of them whether you want to or not. Most

people have pain in their lives.

Everyone experiences loss, betrayal,

disappointment, trauma. But for some,

the pain runs deeper. It becomes woven

into the fabric of who they are. It

shapes every decision, colors every

relationship, drives every

self-destructive behavior, and no amount

of therapy, medication, or positive

thinking seems to touch it. This is the

sacred wound. It is the thorn in your

flesh that will not be removed no matter

how much you beg. It is the burden you

carry that makes you different from

everyone around you. And Jung believed

it was the price of being chosen. The

mark that separates those destined for

ordinary lives from those called to

extraordinary transformation.

Your addiction exists in direct

relationship to this wound. When the

pain becomes unbearable, you reach for

your substance. When the wound tears

open again, you seek your escape. The

addiction and the wound are locked in an

eternal dance. Each one feeding the

other. Each one keeping you trapped in a

cycle that feels impossible to break.

But here is what Jung discovered. The

wound is not your enemy. It is your

greatest teacher. Every time it opens,

every time it bleeds, every time it

reminds you of its presence, it is

trying to show you something essential

about your purpose. The wound contains

the very thing you came here to learn,

to heal in others, to transform into

wisdom. Think about it. The deepest

wounds create the deepest sensitivity.

The person who has never experienced

abandonment cannot truly understand

someone who has. The person who has

never felt soul crushing shame cannot

sit with someone drowning in it. But you

can. Your wound has given you access to

levels of human suffering that most

people will never comprehend. And that

access is not random. It is intentional.

God wounds his chosen ones in specific

ways because he needs them to reach

specific people. Your pain is not

meaningless. It is preparation. Every

moment you have spent in the darkness,

every night you have cried yourself to

sleep, every time you have wanted to

give up, you were being trained. Trained

to understand, to empathize, to guide

others who will one day walk the same

path. But you cannot access this gift

while you are still fighting the wound.

While you are still trying to make it

disappear, still treating it as

something wrong with you, still

believing that healing means never

hurting again. Jung taught that true

healing is not the absence of the wound,

but the transformation of your

relationship to it. The sacred wound

becomes sacred when you stop seeing it

as your weakness and start seeing it as

your strength. When you stop asking why

it happened to you and start asking what

it is trying to teach you. When you stop

demanding that it close and start

learning to live with it open, using it

as a source of compassion rather than a

source of shame. This is incredibly

difficult work because everything in you

wants the pain to stop. You want to be

normal, to be free of this burden, to

live without this constant ache in your

chest. But the wound refuses. It keeps

reopening, keeps demanding attention,

keeps forcing you back into the pain you

desperately want to escape, and your

addiction becomes the only relief you

can find. Jung saw this pattern clearly.

The addict runs from the wound into the

addiction, but the addiction eventually

drives them back to the wound. It is a

cruel circle, but also a sacred one.

Because each time you return, you have

the opportunity to see the wound

differently. To understand it more

deeply, to recognize that it is not

destroying you, but refining you. The

chosen ones carry wounds that refuse to

heal because those wounds are meant to

stay open. not forever in the same way,

but open as channels, as pathways, as

points of connection between their pain

and the pain of others. The wound that

will not close becomes the very thing

that allows grace to flow through you.

It becomes the crack where the light

gets in, the broken place where healing

begins for everyone you touch. But you

must first stop fighting it. Stop hating

yourself for being wounded. Stop

believing that your pain disqualifies

you from purpose. Stop treating your

sensitivity as weakness and your

struggles as failure because the wound

is not evidence that God has abandoned

you. Is evidence that he has marked you

for something you cannot yet see. Your

addiction has been protecting you from

the full weight of this wound. It has

been a buffer, a shield, a way to

survive pain that felt unservivable.

And perhaps it was necessary for a time.

Perhaps you needed that protection until

you were strong enough to face what lies

beneath. But eventually the protection

becomes the prison. The very thing that

helped you survive becomes the thing

that prevents you from living. When you

are ready, when the pain of staying the

same finally exceeds the fear of change,

you will begin to approach your wound

differently. Not with hatred or shame,

but with curiosity.

Not demanding that it disappear, but

asking what it has to teach you. And in

that moment of turning toward instead of

away, everything shifts. The wound does

not close, but it transforms. It becomes

less about your personal suffering and

more about your shared humanity. It

becomes less about what was done to you

and more about what you can offer

others. It becomes the source of your

greatest gift. The ability to sit with

someone in their darkest moment and say

without words, I know. I have been

there. You are not alone. This is why

God speaks to his chosen ones through

addiction and through wounds that refuse

to heal. Because only those who have

descended into the deepest darkness can

guide others out of it. Only those who

have carried unbearable pain can help

others bear theirs. And only those who

have learned to live with a sacred wound

can teach others that brokenness is not

the end of the story, but the beginning

of a new one. So now you stand at the

edge of understanding, looking back at

everything the fire has revealed. The

thirst that could not be quenched was

teaching you that nothing in this world

will ever be enough. The falling that

felt like failure was actually the

descent you needed to meet your truest

self. The shadow that terrified you was

simply waiting to be recognized, to be

integrated, to become your guide instead

of your tormentor. The craving that

consumed you was always pointing towards

something deeper, something sacred that

you were seeking in all the wrong

places. And the wound that refused to

heal became the very crack through which

your light now shines. This is what Yung

understood and what few others have

dared to say. Your addiction was never

the enemy. It was the messenger. God

does not speak to everyone through such

devastating means because not everyone

needs to be broken open in this

particular way. But you did. And now you

know why. You were chosen not for

comfort but for transformation. Not for

ease but for depth. Not to live a simple

life, but to walk a path that would

forge you into something unbreakable.

Every moment of suffering, every

relapse, every shamefilled mourning,

every desperate prayer, it was all

preparation. You were being trained in

the darkness so you could carry light

into places where others cannot go. The

conversation is not over. God is still

speaking through your struggles, through

your questions, through your ongoing journey.

journey.

But now you can finally hear him. Not in

the noise of your addiction, but in the

silence after you stop running. Not in

the high, but in the hunger that the

high could never satisfy. Not in the

escape, but in the return to yourself

again and again. No matter how many

times you fall, you are awake now. And

คลิกที่ข้อความหรือไทม์สแตมป์ใดก็ได้เพื่อข้ามไปยังช่วงเวลานั้นในวิดีโอ

แชร์:

คำบรรยายส่วนใหญ่พร้อมภายใน 5 วินาที

คัดลอกด้วยคลิกเดียว125+ ภาษาค้นหาเนื้อหาข้ามไปยังไทม์สแตมป์

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ใส่ลิงก์วิดีโอ YouTube ใดก็ได้เพื่อรับคำบรรยายฉบับเต็ม

คำบรรยายส่วนใหญ่พร้อมภายใน 5 วินาที

ติดตั้ง Chrome Extension ของเรา

ดึงคำบรรยายได้ทันทีโดยไม่ต้องออกจาก YouTube ติดตั้ง Chrome Extension เพื่อเข้าถึงคำบรรยายวิดีโอใดก็ได้ด้วยคลิกเดียวบนหน้าวิดีโอโดยตรง

เพิ่มลงใน Chrome — ฟรี

รองรับ YouTube, Coursera, Udemy และแพลตฟอร์มการเรียนรู้อื่นๆ อีกมากมาย

รับคำบรรยายทันที: แก้ไขโดเมนในแถบที่อยู่ของคุณได้เลย!

YouTube

←

→

↻

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UF8uR6Z6KLc

YoutubeToText

←

→

↻

https://youtubetotext.net/watch?v=UF8uR6Z6KLc

คำบรรยาย YouTubeกำลังเตรียมผลลัพธ์ให้คุณ…

คำบรรยาย YouTube:God Speaks to His Chosen Ones Through Addiction | Carl Jung