“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Now. It is hard for me to tell you that you are a merry rose in a happy garden (to Florence. Laughter from the class.) You only see the thorns. It is hard for me to remind you of the seriousness—and yet of the joy of your existence. And that is why I told our friend that his humor could be his salvation. A child discovers many truths in play and so can you—if you allow yourselves the freedom of spontaneous mental and psychic play. Also because of the mechanics involved, I cannot dance like your Tiny Tim, “through the tulips.” (Laughter from the class.) But I do beseech each of you to look within yourselves for that joy that is your own—and to accept it. It is not that the joy is not present, but that you refuse to acknowledge it. Now. I admit that I sound old and ponderous—and yet, I would go tip-toeing through the tulips—and not feel a loss of dignity—nor worry about who saw me.

And it sings now through each of you as it sings through me, and as it sings through the plants that “belong” to our Lady of Florence.