“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

A note. The material was not distorted when Ruburt gave the April 15th date in connection with Miss Callahan, and the crisis of which I spoke. Her ego has given up the struggle. It realizes that it will not be liquidated. Moments of lucidity will flash and die away. She is basically satisfied now, realizing from direct experience of her own that death involves a transformation, and if there is an ending in your terms, then there is also a new beginning.

This one, that one, is one of your favorites, and one of Ruburt’s, and for that reason I myself do feel a warmth. I would suggest that Mark also exercise himself in the use of psychological time. He should progress fairly rapidly. His impulsive nature is actually somewhat more restrained in this life than it was in the previously past life. Nevertheless, one of the problems for the personality is still the need for a more disciplined ego.

Art of any kind is extremely important as a way of paying off debts, that is psychological debts. When you were a woman, Mark, and wealthy, you gave away money. Now like Joseph and Ruburt, you give away parts of yourself, fragments of yourself, made more or less into living psychological forms that according to your ability are free from not only time, but free from many of the defects of your own present personality.

Paintings, and for Ruburt’s benefit poetry—I certainly don’t want Ruburt to feel neglected—but paintings have their own vitality and exist independently of the artist, and are the result of a spontaneous, free, impulsive burst of giving that asks no return, and as such, because no return is expected, returns are given.

I did want to make one comment of a light nature, concerning Ruburt’s unbounded joy with the new clothing which he has recently acquired. He goes by spurts and starts; being masculine for so many lives, he sometimes is quite bewildered by this quite feminine flurry, and I find it quite amusing.

You, Joseph, were the pudgy, hairy-chested and lecherous landowner, and the town was Triev. Your son was an artist, and certainly prances up and down now in the person of your Ruburt; and at the time you had no understanding nor use for art as any man’s profession; and let it be said that in this respect Ruburt treats you much better than you treated him.

Mark, when he realized who you were, damn near strangled you. But there is a postscript. You went back into the house, weeping at your old man’s fate. Mark grabbed the girl for one revengeful embrace. Ruburt came across the same fields with his horse, led the horse into the barn, and found Mark and his mistress.

Ruburt is over the seasonal problems, with which I was quite concerned. I will close the session after a few brief remarks.