“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Yesterday Jane finished typing Chapter 15 of God of Jane. The chapter actually consists of her long poem, “A Psychic Manifesto,” which she wrote in July 1979. I’m quoting the first verse of the poem in the front matter for Mass Events. “Among other things,” I note there, “the poem is a passionate declaration of psychic independence, written in response to Seth’s ideas in this book.” Jane also described events relative to her creation of “A Psychic Manifesto” in Chapter 14 of God of Jane [I expect to finish the notes for Mass Events within a couple of weeks.]

The last evening of the month was quite warm for our area at this time of year—66 degrees—and we had front and kitchen windows of the hill house open so the cats could go out on the porches as they pleased. Incredible, Jane and I thought, that 1980 was already four months old. Many of the birds have returned. I’ve started mowing a little grass each day.)

(I was amused to see that Jane paused in trance just long enough to add a little wine to her glass. Resume at 9:51.)

“The other day Jane and I were talking about people who maintain that the universe is an accident, or that it has no meaning, or that there’s no such thing as life after death, or that psychic abilities don’t exist—that sort of thing. People who call themselves skeptics, who seem to have a very rigid focus only within what they call physical reality. Those attitudes are very common. Some people have built careers around negative beliefs like that, and Jane and I were wondering how they react after physical death, when they discover that they still live—that they may have spent their professional lives maintaining belief systems which after death they begin to understand are quite wrong. How do they react? Are those individuals even aware of their earlier beliefs? Do they care what they used to think? Are they shocked, do they have feelings of regret or embarrassment, or what? Or is there such a variety of responses possible that you can’t answer the question simply? And how do such people react after death when they start to get glimmerings about the workings of reincarnation,³ for example?”

10:20 P.M. I told Jane that the session is excellent. Her delivery had often been rather fast and intent—even impassioned. She laughed. “See, I wanted him to come through and say something about me, without my asking, but he didn’t.” She hadn’t mentioned such a desire to me. “I got something about genetic dreams while I was doing the dishes tonight—just the phrase,” she said. “Anyhow, I feel better after the session than I did before it.

“But tonight I had the feeling after the session that it’s a real full one—that I really got to the heart of something,” Jane added. “I like that. The last session didn’t give me that feeling, but when I read it, it was fine….”)

1. There isn’t any such word as incalculatable, of course, but that’s what Jane came through with as she spoke for Seth. She obviously meant to say “incalculable.” Seldom indeed does she make such slips while delivering the Seth material—much less often than any of us may do in daily life.

2. Seth referred to a question I periodically ask Jane, but seldom discuss with others simply because they don’t seem to be interested: What’s happened to all of the Rembrandts? Why isn’t there at least one artist in all of the world painting today whose ability equals Rembrandt’s, and who uses that great gift to evoke the depths of compassion for the human condition as Rembrandt did? For in my opinion there isn’t such a one around. By extension, why isn’t there a Rubens or a Velázquez or a Vermeer operating now? My choices are personally arbitrary, of course—yet why don’t we have a Rembrandt contributing to our current reality? Just those four artists, whose lives spanned a period of only 98 years (from 1577 to 1675), explored human insight in powerful ways. To link the “great masters” with our species’ reincarnational intents and drives, as Seth mentions in this session, opens up a new field for understanding my question, and a very large and intriguing one indeed.

3. I’ve been saving the following untitled poem of Jane’s for a spot like this. She wrote it on November 7, 1979, almost a month before delivering Session 886 for Chapter 2 of Dreams (in Volume 1) on December 3. I suggest that in connection with the poem the reader review the opening paragraphs of that session.