“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Now, in the winter time our poor idiotic flower seems, indeed, to be dead. The seed goes into the earth, however, and in the wintertime in any of your suburban gardens here beneath the snow are all these seeds. They are being nurtured, but do they in this darkness, therefore, look about them and say, “This is a time of death? There is nothing else for me and my existence is meaningless? How is it that I remember a time in which I blossomed? How is it I vaguely remember a summer in a time in which I was strong and spontaneous and free? What has happened to the summertime, and will it never come again for me?” That is what you are doing now. Our seed, however, who does not have this fine intellect that sits so nicely beneath your hair and within your skull, our seed without the intellect, rests joyfully within the earth knowing it is in the midst of creativity and that from within it, again, another flower will spring. And it does not deny the earth that gives it birth. It knows within itself, and it is this knowledge that you can find again. It is within you now.

(To Derek:) And be careful of those associates that you make if they have a strong feeling also of meaninglessness. You can come and each of you in this room have come or will come to a dark corner. And the dark corner will seem to you that only desolation exists, and you will look into the faces of your fellow men and find only emptiness. And you will look into the faces of your brother and your father and your mother and find no meaning. You will see that they see meaning, but you will not experience their meaning, and so their faces may seem empty to you, and you will look outward into the world and find no meaning in it, only desolation and cruelty. And you will see at the end of a life only death and annihilation and wonder what the life was for.

([Gert:] “Then a consciousness of a person may leave before death, but the soul would be the last thing that leaves the body?”)