“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 Babs.) I did not ignore you. You are not a guest, in those terms, in that you are not a stranger. On the other hand, you are not a student either, so I saved you until later. Now, if none of you mind, I would like to take a moment here and if you want to turn your face to the wall, then do it before I begin to speak.

(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.

Now this crisis has a meaning and a purpose. It does you no good to avoid this crisis through drugs, through tranquilizers, or through material possessions, for you must face certain facts, and the facts are these. The high and mighty intellect that deals with the world of sense is not all. The validity and the vitality of your existence is far more than this. And when you find your intellect, alone, cannot give you the answers, and that it cannot bring you joy and that it brings you no closer to the fountain of existence, then you begin asking the proper questions. Then you are like the flower who accepts the sunshine, and in accepting the sunshine knows far more about the reality of sun than any scientist who measures the spectrum of light without feeling. Your soul, your inner self, your reality, is experience. It is this upon which you must base your life.