“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Jim’s friend was unable to come, but Jim, Bill, Jane and I began to discuss Seth at about 7:30 Friday night. We also discussed the letter of April 23, received today, from the A.S.P.R., asking us to cease sending in copies of these sessions unless they contained specific information of Seth’s promised tests. Jane and I feel that we cannot rush her development, nor do we have any desire to, so the letter left us somewhat at a loss; we finally decided to let events take their course, and send the A.S.P.R. any data in which they might be interested, when, if ever, it manifested itself.

It will take three years at least before they will all be drawn here, but then we will be able to really do something, and our work will show unheard-of results.

Again, the pattern begins to make itself known. The rigidity, while conducive to the development of creativity, also has temptations, in that a certain pride can become psychically sterile or ingrown. However in this existence the personality has opened up to a more considerable degree, and for its own development should continue to do so.

This session is outside of our regular sessions because I have known that Roarck would finally be drawn here, and it is for his benefit that I have called the session. There are others who will come. Do not, however, consider that you yourselves have truth in the palm of your hands.

(Break at 10:45. Jane was dissociated as usual. She said that something had made Seth angry this evening; she thought it had to do with our attitude and comments after we had received the letter from the A.S.P.R.

Ruburt was quite correct. I found both of your attitudes earlier this evening to be extremely smug. You find it easy to blame others for not having the knowledge that you have thus far obtained, when you forget that I had much to do with choosing who would receive the knowledge. The situation and the time and the growth of your own abilities had something to do with this. While I am certainly not one given to humility, nevertheless your smugness is truly astronomical.

I have said the universe, that is the inner universe, does expand, but does not expand in space. For Roarck’s benefit, ideas, theories, plans, capabilities expand, but do not take up more space. And so does the universe expand, but space is merely a camouflage, useful to you for a time, constructed through the use of mental enzymes, subconsciously and only for a brief span.

(“What are you going to do now, Seth?”)

You try to trick me. I do not do anything in the terms to which you refer, and my activities parallel your own only in a very slight manner. There is a quality of value existence and extension with which you are not familiar, and a pulsation that I cannot yet make you understand.

The picture is a composite of two images having to do with Roarck. You knew he was coming consciously, and in your inner vision you saw many things and made of them one image. The eyes brimming with tears represent his eyes as they have often been, esthetic, compassionate and overwhelmed. The laughing face, however, represents something else. It represents Roarck’s overall entity—

You and Ruburt have solved those problems. Mark and Roarck still have to solve theirs. I suggest for politeness’ sake that you take a break or end the session, as you prefer. As always when I say I am going to end a session, I find it difficult to do so.

(I lay without concentrating upon anything in particular; I told myself I felt light and relaxed. Because I was using the word light for the first time in these experiments, [with a rather ill-defined idea of levitation in mind, after Jane’s attempts], I also told myself I was not afraid. I repeated these few words a few times, but do not believe I put myself in any kind of a trance, although at the time I took the precaution of reminding myself I could snap out of it any time I wanted to.

(This time, I found myself standing in the doorway of an office building in New York City. I do not know what floor it was on, except that it was at least several floors up. It was not an office I had ever been in, yet was next door to an office I used to visit occasionally when Jane and I lived in Tenafly, NJ, and I was free-lancing as an artist in NYC. The building could be the Carnegie Hall office building, or one very close to Carnegie Hall, on 57th St. I do not recall the street number. The publisher I worked for occasionally was Charles Biro, the time was around 1955. I do not know whether he is still located there, or what has happened to him, not having seen him since.

(I did think to myself: “Well now, she’s having trouble with that window, but I’ll open it for her. Not only that, I’ll do it while I’m standing right here—by mental power. She’ll be surprised.” My actual thoughts would closely parallel this dialogue.