“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(This is the first session for Mass Events since the last one, obviously — but with an 11-week gap between the two. How come? What were Jane and I doing all of that “time” — that nearly one-quarter of a year of our physical lives?

(Going back to the end of our stay-at-home vacation, on June 25 Seth-Jane began delivering a series of 10 sessions that we held on Monday and Saturday evenings for a change, instead of following our usual Monday-Wednesday routine. We finally decided to classify these sessions as private, or at least as not being work for Mass Events. Some of that material is intensely personal, and some only generally so. But a lot of it isn’t intimate at all — meaning that it could help others if it were published. This realization brought up questions we’ve encountered before: Which sessions apply to a particular project, and which ones don’t? What if they’re related in oblique ways, yet Seth doesn’t call them book dictation? I may not realize I should ask him about this at the time, or only later begin to speculate about using certain material. We know that Seth will specify a given number of sessions for this book, for instance, yet we keep the freedom to consider adding other material.

(This 806th session is such an example. Strictly speaking, it isn’t dictation for Mass Events, but Jane and I are presenting portions of it here because Seth discussed events and memory with a different emphasis, and touched upon aspects of reincarnation² — all subjects that spring out of that ineffable, really undefinable quality he calls simultaneous time. I ask the reader to always keep in mind that no matter what subject he’s discussing, or from what viewpoint, Seth’s kind of “time” underlies all that our present physical senses translate into linear, concrete experience and history. For clarification, I also keep this in mind: Seth isn’t physical, as he defines himself, and that “energy personality essence” seemingly isn’t all that focused on the passage of time — as we are — yet way back in the 14th session for January 8, 1964, he told us that time “is therefore still a reality of some kind to me.” In these notes for Mass Events, I plan to refer to time — all kinds of it — from “time to time.”)

Because events do not exist in the concrete, done-and-finished versions about which you have been taught, then memory must also be a different story.

You must remember the creativity and the open-ended nature of events, for even in one life a given memory is seldom a “true version” of a past event. The original happening is experienced from a different perspective on the part of each person involved, of course, so that the event’s implications and basic meanings may differ according to the focus of each participant. That given event, in your terms happening for the first time, say, begins to “work upon” the participants. Each one brings to it his or her own background, temperament, and literally a thousand different colorations — so that the event, while shared by others, is still primarily original to each person.

The moment it occurs, it begins to change as it is filtered through all of those other ingredients, and it is minutely altered furthermore by each succeeding event. The memory of an event, then, is shaped as much by the present as it is by the past. Association triggers memories, of course, and organizes memory events. It also helps color and form such events.

You are used to a time structure, so that you remember something that happened at a particular time in the past. Usually you can place events in that fashion. There are neurological pockets, so to speak, so that biologically the body can place events as it perceives activity. Those neurological pulses are geared to the biological world you know.

When such other-life memories do come to the surface, they are of course colored by it, and their rhythm is not synchronized. They are not tied into your nervous system as precisely as your regular memories. Your present gains its feeling of depth because of your past as you understand it. In certain terms, however, the future represents, say, another kind of depth that belongs to events. A root goes out in all directions. Events do also. But the roots of events go through your past, present, and future.

Often by purposefully trying to slow down your thought processes, or playfully trying to speed them up, you can become aware of memories from other lives — past or future. To some extent you allow other neurological impulses to make themselves known. There may often be a feeling of vagueness, because you have no ready-made scheme of time or place with which to structure such memories. Such exercises also involve you with the facts of the events of your own life, for you automatically are following probabilities from the point of your own focus.

It would be most difficult to operate within your sphere of reality without the pretension of concrete, finished events. You form your past lives now in this life as surely as you form your future ones now also.

Simultaneously, each of your past and future selves dwell in their own way now, and for them the last sentence also applies. It is theoretically possible to understand much of this through an examination-in-depth of the events of your own life. Throwing away many taken-for-granted concepts, you can pick a memory. But try not to structure it — a most difficult task — for such structuring is by now almost automatic.

(10:01.) The memory, left alone, not structured, will shimmer, shake, take other forms, and transform itself before your [mental] eyes, so that its shape will seem like a psychological kaleidoscope through whose focus the other events of your life will also shimmer and change. Such a memory exercise can also serve to bring in other-life memories. Edges, corners, and reflections will appear, however, perhaps superimposed upon memories that you recognize as belonging to this life.

In a quiet moment, off guard, you might remember an event from this life, but there may be a strange feeling to it, as if something about it, some sensation, does not fit into the time slot in which the event belongs. In such cases that [present-life] memory is often tinged by another, so that a future or past life memory sheds its cast upon the recalled event. There is a floating quality about one portion of the memory.

This happens more often than is recognized, because usually you simply discount the feeling of strangeness, and drop the part of the memory that does not fit. Such instances involve definite bleedthroughs, however. By being alert and catching such feelings, you can learn to use the floating part of the otherwise-recognizable memory as a focus. Through association that focus can then trigger further past or future recall. Clues also appear in the dreaming state, with greater frequency, because then you are already accustomed to that kind of floating sensation in which events can seem to happen in their own relatively independent context.

Any such moment is therefore a gateway into all of your existence. The events that you recognize as happening now are simply specific and objective, but the most minute element in any given moment’s experience is also symbolic of other events and other times. Each moment is then like a mosaic, only in your current life history you follow but one color or pattern, and ignore the others. As I have mentioned [in other books], you can indeed change the present to some extent by purposefully altering a memory event. That kind of synthesis can be used in many instances with many people.

Such a technique is highly valuable. Not only are memories not “dead,” they are themselves ever-changing. Many alter themselves almost completely without your notice. In his (unpublished) apprentice novels, Ruburt (Jane) did two or three versions of an episode with a priest he had known in his youth. Each version at the time he wrote it represented his honest memory of the event. While the bare facts were more or less the same, the entire meaning and interpretation of each version differed so drastically that those differences far outweighed the similarities.

Because the episode was used on two or three different occasions, Ruburt could see how this memory changed. In most cases, however, people are not aware that memory changes in such a fashion, or that the events they think they recall are so different.

The point is that past events grow. They are not finished. With that in mind, you can see that future lives are very difficult to explain from within your framework. A completed life in your terms is no more completed or done than any event. There is simply a cutoff point in your focus from your framework, but it is as artificial as, basically, perspective is applied to painting.