“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(For example, she spent Monday and Tuesday reading poetry she’d written before the sessions began [in 1963], wondering why she didn’t have the impulse to work on Heroics instead. Finally, last night she made her intuitive connection: She had been working on the book the entire time. Heroics isn’t to be on how to reach some unattainable superself, but on the barriers that stand in the way of practical self-realization. That old poetry dealt with such impediments. “You can’t find your heroic self unless you trust the self you have,” she told me. “Seth’s been telling us to be alert for negative Freudian and Darwinian beliefs — and suddenly I’m surrounded by my own. And all of those beliefs stand in the way of trusting my impulses. I finally see where the book is headed. I’m going to work out those beliefs for myself and for our readers.”)

(Pause.) Actually the woman’s condition hid her primary impulse: to communicate better with her husband, to ask him for definite expressions of love. Why did he not love her as much as she loved him? She could say it was because she was overweight, after all, for he was always remarking adversely about her fleshy opulence — though he did not use such a sympathetic phrase.

In those areas where you cut down on your impulses, upon their very recognition, you close down probabilities, and prevent new beneficial acts that of themselves would lead you out of your difficulty. You prevent change. But many people fear that any change is detrimental, since they have been taught, after all, that left alone their bodies or their minds or their relationships are bound to deteriorate. Often, therefore, people react to events as if they themselves possessed no impetus to alter them. They live their lives as if they are indeed limited in experience not only to a brief lifetime, but a lifetime in which they are the victims of their chemistry — accidental members of a blighted species that is murderous to its very core.

(Pause.) To me, it is almost inconceivable that, from your position, any of you seriously consider that the existence of your exquisite consciousness can possibly be the result of a conglomeration of chemicals and elements thrown together by a universe accidentally formed, and soon to vanish. So much more evidence is available to you: the order of nature; the creative drama of your dreams, that project your consciousness into other times and places; the very precision with which you spontaneously grow, without knowing how, from a fetus into an adult; the existence of heroic themes and quests and ideals that pervade the life of even the worst scoundrel — these all give evidence of the greater context in which you have your being.