“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Late last week Tam Mossman called Jane to tell her that he’s begun work on her contract for the publication of If We Live Again. I wrote Tam this morning, asking questions about what long-range plans Prentice-Hall may have for the 15 books Jane and I have sold to the company. [That total includes Mass Events, God of Jane, and the poetry book, all of which are yet to be issued.] In the private session for September 22—one of his series on the magical approach to life—Seth had told us that our work is “protected.” I’ve been curious about that statement ever since, and mentioned it to Jane today in connection with my letter to Tam.

He also realized that at least to some extent this energy had accumulated as a result of his own good intentions, and his desire to help others. He called this “Helper,”¹ and he never saw the form clearly again. The form represented (long pause) the personified, accumulated positive energies that were working to his advantage at that time, that provided him protection, but that also automatically worked to the benefit of his life and projects.

Dreams have always served as such a connective. You know more about your life than you think you do—and far more about your life and society than you are intellectually aware of. Early man was in that same position, and his inventions—his tools, his artistry, and so forth—came into being from the inner, ever-present realm of the mind, triggered by his unconscious but quite real estimation of his position within the universe at large, and in regard to his own environment.

Memory was so perfected that men at one time were indeed living histories, and carried within their minds their genealogies and backgrounds and the knowledge of their peoples, which were then passed on to their children. It is true that reading and writing have certain advantages over such procedures, but it is also true that knowledge possessed in that old fashion became a part of a man, and a society, in a much more personal, meaningful manner. It was, of course, a different kind of knowing. At its best it did not lead to rote renditions of remembered material, but to dramatic renderings of it through music, poetry, dancing. In other words, its rendition was accompanied by creative physical expression. It is true that, practically speaking, a man’s mind, or a woman’s, could not hold all of the information available now in your world—but much of that information does not deal with basic knowledge about the universe or man’s place within it. It is a kind of secondary information—interesting, but not life-giving.