“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(“It’s a sort of superrelaxation; almost profound, and mental and physical at once. A completely different thing than just yawning, even though I might be yawning. It involves a curious sense of dropping down inwardly, of going slowly beneath the realities we usually perceive…. Such a relaxation, then, is almost an extension of biological insight.”

(All with much emphasis and irony:) The idea of a meaningless universe, however, is in itself a highly creative imaginative act. Animals, for example, could not imagine such an idiocy, so that the theory shows the incredible accomplishment of an obviously ordered mind and intellect that can imagine itself to be the result of nonorder, or chaos — [you have] a creature who is capable of “mapping” its own brain, imagining that the brain’s fantastic regulated order could emerge from a reality that itself has no meaning. Indeed, then, the theory actually says that the ordered universe magically emerged — and evolutionists must certainly believe in a God of Chance somewhere, or in Coincidence with a capital C, for their theories would make no sense at all otherwise.

In each person the imaginative world, its force and power, merges into historical reality. In each person, the ultimate and unassailable and unquenchable power of All That Is is individualized, and dwells in time. Man’s imagination can carry him into those other realms — but when he tries to squeeze those truths into frameworks too small, he distorts and bends inner realities so that they become jagged dogmas.

In a way you choose from an infinite, endless, uncomputable number of ideas, and sculpt these into the physical fragments that compose normal experience. You do this in such a way that the timeless events are experienced in time, and so that they mix and merge to conform to the dimensions of your reality. Along the way there are accomplishments that are as precious as any creatures of any kind could produce. There are also great failures — but these are failures only in comparison with the glittering inner knowledge of the imagination that holds for you those ideals against which you judge your acts.