“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

The idea of dissociation could be likened to the slight distance between the bark and the inside of the tree. Here we do not have a rigid bark, as you should not have a rigid ego. We have instead a flexible bark, changing with the elements, protecting the inner tree or the inner self, but flexible, opening up or closing in rhythmic motion. The bark is so to speak outside our tree; and there is a small space between the inner tree and the bark. This small space is our dissociation.

The inner tree continues to grow because the bark is flexible. Man lets his ego face the outer world as does the tree bark, and this is its purpose. Nevertheless the inner self, like the inner tree, must have room to expand. The tree bark makes allowances for good weather (here Jane pounded the table) though bad weather is repulsive to the bark. Nevertheless the bark makes whatever adjustments are necessary and is flexible. Forgive me if this is a trite analogy, I almost hate to say it, but it bends with the wind. It does not bend when there is no wind. Nor does it solidify, stopping the flow of sap to the treetop for fear the dumb tree, not knowing what it was up to, would bump its head against the sky.

Man’s ego causes him to interpret everything else in the light of himself. He loses very much in this manner. The ego is definitely an advancement, but it can be compared to the bark of the tree in many ways. The bark of the tree is flexible, extremely vibrant, and grows with the growth beneath. It is a tree’s contact with the outer world, the tree’s interpreter, and to some degree the tree’s companion.

Take a break, and then I will have more to say about the bark which barks too loudly.

Nevertheless, lest Ruburt thinks he is getting off scott free, let me remind him that the tree’s bark is quite necessary and cannot be dispensed with. [...] Take a break, and then I will have more to say about the bark that barks too loudly.

The idea of dissociation could be likened to the slight distance between the bark and the inside of the tree. Here we do not have a rigid bark, as you should not have a rigid ego. We have instead a flexible bark, changing with the elements, protecting the inner tree (or inner self), but flexible, opening or closing in rhythmic motion. [...]

[...] The ego can be compared to the bark of a tree. The bark is flexible, vibrant, and grows with the growth beneath. [...]

If, for example, our tree bark grew fearful of stormy weather and began to harden itself against the elements, in a well-meaning but distorted protective spirit, then the tree would die. [...]

[...] These traps are often constructed on trees, in the bark, in such a fashion that the tree gum itself is used to trap the insects. [...]

Now my best wishes to you both, and I will not keep Ruburt barking for me any longer. [...]

[...] I do not bark. [...]

(While we were eating breakfast this morning Jane and I heard a peculiar multiple “barking” sound that came from the sky. [...]

[...] Last night, we had reminders that a natural rhythmic cycle was completing itself six months later: As we retired I thought I heard the barking of geese migrating north, although Jane didn’t. I woke up around four a.m., though, and heard a flight clearly in the silent hour. [...]

[...] It is therefore as much dirt and worms as it is bark. [...]

With all due respect, your friend [the psychologist] is, with the best of intentions, barking up the wrong psychological tree. [...]

The tree bark for example is not really divided from the rest of the tree, yet I must speak as if it were so divided because this is one of the apparent effects that you see, and I could not ignore what you insist was the evidence of your senses. [...]

(Before starting work this afternoon I studied my favorite tree for a while, noticing that the force of the wind had begun to peel back large sections of bark from some of the middle limbs. [...]

Of the tree bark and blossom.

[...] A dog may bark in the distance. [...]

[...] The barking of the geese started to fade. [...]

[...] Indeed, as we left the stairs two dogs in a back apartment set up a furious barking as they scratched at what I knew were kitchen windows. [...] We saw no one, however, and the barking magically ceased as we moved around to the east side of 458 and surveyed it from a small paved parking lot. [...]