“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Now, let us take for argument’s sake, a poor unintelligent flower in the middle of a garden. Now, there the poor thing is, and it cannot move back nor forth. It cannot run up the garden path and it is. Now, when the rain falls it gratefully accepts the droplets. It does not turn its head upward and say, “Yes, but does the rain exist, or does it not? And wherefore does it come, and how, indeed, do these elements reach into my beings and down into my roots? And unless I understand how this occurs, then I will not accept the rain.” And when a sunny day comes, the flower does not lift its idiotic head and say, “Now, this appears to be the sun. How is it that the sun keeps me alive and brings the green to my leaves and branches and makes me flower? I do not understand, and since I do not understand, therefore, I will not accept the sun and I shall stand here and deny that it exists for how do I know that I exist, much less the sun does. Perhaps it is a fancy tale told by other idiots as stupid as myself.” But if it is a fancy tale, it would behoove you to listen, for the moment that the flower says, “I deny, therefore, I deny the sunlight or the rain,” then the flower, indeed, would deny the grace of existence.

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.

Now, the seed cannot yell out to a scientist who happens to pass and say, “Hey, look at me, I exist. Take me home to your laboratory for within me is the kernel of life.” For the scientist, if he would heed the call and if he would take a spade and dig in the middle of February perhaps down into the earth to find our seed, would find simply a shell. He would not find the reality of the seed. And though you speak and exist and have your being, the emotions that you feel, that make you you, cannot be packaged in a laboratory, cannot be proven by any scientist, you exist. He can only weigh the body and the elements that compose you. He can tell you how much your brain weighs. He cannot tell you what you are feeling or thinking or touch the reality of your subjective experience and herein lies your reality and your proof and your existence and your feeling.

(To Derek.) You will find your own ways, but trust your own inner voice. If you do not trust what Ruburt would call the establishment, then trust the inner voice that is yourself and follow it. You do not need trust me, but you must, indeed, trust yourself. I have always trusted myself so I do not see why you would not trust me.

(To Laurie.) To our friend behind me, let me say that your friend has gone and left with a sense of release.

(To Derek.) Now, as far as proofs are concerned, any of you can measure. Any of you can measure the painting on the wall that is of me in a previous life. You can measure the dimensions. You can prove a painting exists on the wall. You cannot measure the psychological impact of the painting, however, nor the psychic reality that is within it. Nor can you measure the inner reality that you know is within yourself. And as I have said before, when you look into a mirror you do not see yourself. You see the physical form. You do not see your ego or your subconscious or your spirit or your unconscious. You see the molecules and atoms that spin about you. You cannot prove, therefore, that you exist, much less that I exist. Be thankful then that the atoms and molecules that compose your chairs seem as if they were solid.

That is an adequate analogy. We are making some limited progress. You did not wink at me, yet, this evening. Now, I feel better.

([Rachel:] “You are always telling me I travel so far. Do I go to other realms of a consciousness I cannot perceive or understand?”)

You do, indeed. Since I have told you this often, I do not understand how you are giving it to me in the nature of a revelation. You do not remember the short trips, either. You will remember when you are ready, as I have told you before.