“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Now, I will tell you a children’s tale. Once upon a merry time, on a distant star, there lived a fine people. They were not physical people, in your terms, and if you traveled to that star now in your spaceships you would not see them. You would walk through their fields and think that the land was barren. You would land in your spaceships and though the whole populous came out to greet you, you would see no one.

And so, in this children’s tale, that is given to you in parable and in symbol, you came to have your being and yet when this universe, as you know it, was then brought into existence, you had to forget momentarily where you came from and you had to be created in flesh so that you could experience, in flesh, this new portion of creativity and so that you could, in your turn, create from that of which you were physically made and so you forgot your heritage, on purpose in a way. And you found yourself upon a physical planet and all the stars blazed on, and you opened your eyes and found infinite possibilities and a virgin physical reality that you could shape to your heart’s desire and in which you could give your creativity full rein. And those from whom you originated watched and when great clouds scurried across your primitive skies in those days those who had originated you came down and you saw them and wondered.

And in this children’s tale there were also, behind those who originated you, others who also watched carefully and gently and with great love. For as you were created, so you create and those thoughts of yours that you consider meaningless and that escape from you, and those dreams of yours that you consider meaningless and that escape from you, these are also given vitality and existence for you cannot help but create even as you have created.

Now in this children’s tale pretend with me. Pretend with me that you sit here in a physical reality in one tiny unspeakably and unutterably small dot upon the physical planet called Earth. Pretend with me that you are presently sitting in a room in a town called Elmira, in a state called New York, that you are seated in a circle and that you are listening to me speak, and pretend with me that at the same time you are in a circle about me in another space and another time. Pretend with me that, in your terms, we were in another circle and in another star in a past inconceivably distant so that your physical brain cannot imagine it and that together, being nonphysical, we had a great dream. We imagined a physical reality and we imagined this moment and this time and there is no end to this children’s tale. There is never any end to a children’s tale. It is only adults that insist upon beginnings and endings. And imagine also, therefore, that within yourselves now are other far more wise selves and that within your eyes are other eyes as old as mine and other selves quite as ancient and quite as new and that these selves, within yourselves, look out at me and wink and in winking know what they know.

Now, I am glad you liked my children’s tale. I do want to give our friend (Jane) more of a break, however, but let me tell you that in my own book I am not using children’s tales. You have been given children’s tales too often. Now they are lovely and there is meaning in them, and you here should understand the meaning of the tale I gave you. But beneath the stories of the beginning there are other things that you should know, and in my own book I will tell you what they are. And now, you see, I do not interrupt.