“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Your ideas themselves follow certain laws of creativity. They have their own rhythms. The associative processes of your mind, working through the brain, have great connection with the minute behavior of your cells. As you learn to use your thoughts, or even as they naturally change, resulting alterations take place within the cells. There is an orderly progression, an intimate relationship.

When massive doses of LSD are used, you are artificially creating a disaster area from which you hope to salvage an efficient working self. It is true that the old interactions between an associative pattern of thought and its habitual action may be broken down, but it is also true that the inner-ordered structure has been shocked psychically and biologically.

It is made vulnerable to all those forces it was meant to lead, while being stripped of its natural logical abilities — indeed, of its very sense of identity. (Intently:) There is nothing exterior against which it can work, and no framework in which it can get balance.

Ruburt has been working on a book of poems called The Dialogues, and in it recently he wrote of the double worlds. One night he stood at the kitchen window, and quite without drugs saw a rainy puddle below suddenly turn into an alive, beautifully fluid creature who stood up and walked while the rain slid off its liquid sides.

This identity is your physical self through which now, in your terms, all expression must come. You are more than your temporal being alone. Your life as a creature is dependent upon your alliance with flesh. You will exist when your body is dead, but practically speaking, you will always be working through an image of yourself.

(“I’d been working all day,” Jane wrote, “on my book of poetry, Dialogues of the Soul and Mortal Self in Time. Working like crazy, really on a creative ‘high.’ Just before supper time I’d been writing about the single yet double universe of self and soul, and the last line had quoted the mortal self: