“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Pretend that your life’s experience is a page of a book that you write, read, and experience from top to bottom, left to right, sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph. That is the you that you know — the world view that you understand. But other quite as legitimate “yous” may write, read, and experience the same page backwards, or read each letter downward and back up again, as you would a column of figures. Or others might mix and match the letters in entirely different fashions altogether, forming entirely different sentences. Still another, vaster you might be aware of all the different methods of experiencing that particular page, which is your life as you understand it.

(Long pause.) You read yourselves from the top of the page to the bottom, or from what you think of as the beginning to the end. Your greater reality, however, is read in terms of intensities, so that the psyche puts you together in a different way. The psyche does not mark time. To it the intense experiences of your life exist simultaneously. In your terms they would be the psyche’s present. The psyche deals with probable events, however, so some events — perhaps some that you dreamed of but did not materialize — are quite real to the psyche. They are far more real to it than most innocuous but definite physical events, as for example yesterday morning’s breakfast.

The inner events of the psyche compose the greater experience from which physical events arrive. They cast an aura that almost magically makes your life your own. Even if two people encountered precisely the same events in their lives at precisely the same time, their experiences of reality would still hardly be approximately connected.

These encounters of consciousness go on constantly. They form their own kind of adjacent identities. You would call them subspecies of consciousness, perhaps, but they are really identities that operate in a trans-species fashion.

If you “read yourselves” sideways in such a manner, you would discover portions of your own consciousness stretching out across the entire fabric of the earth as you understand it — becoming a part of the earth’s material, even as those materials become part of the self that you recognize. Your consciousness would be far less hemmed in. Time would expand adjacently. You think of yourselves physically as “top dogs,” however, separate from the other species and kinds of life, so that in effect you limit your own experience of your psyche.

If you thought or felt in such a fashion, then you would appreciate the fact that biologically your body is yours by virtue of the mineral, plant and animal life from which it gains its sustenance. You would not feel imprisoned as you often do within one corporal form, for you would understand that the body itself maintains its relative stability because of its constant give-and-take with the materials of the earth that are themselves possessed of consciousness.

If you read your selves adjacently, you would build up confidence in the body, and in those cooperative consciousnesses that form it. You would have an intimate awareness of the body’s healing processes also. You would not fear death as annihilation, and would feel your own consciousness gently disentangle itself from those others that so graciously couched it.