“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(A note: The Democratic National Convention is in its third day. As I typed away after supper, I could tell that Jane was listening to the speeches on TV in the living room. Then I realized I’d goofed: Last Saturday, our local paper had carried a short article to the effect that a psychic we’d heard of had predicted recently that Senator Robert Byrd of West Virginia would obtain the Democratic nomination for president, after a deadlock between Carter and Kennedy developed at the convention. I read the article and called it to Jane’s attention. I’d meant to save it, but instead the paper ended up bundled up with the trash for pickup this morning. Since the Carter forces won the fight to keep the convention “closed” during its first, Monday session, this assures Carter the nomination on the first ballot. Thus the psychic is wrong in the prediction, which evidently obtained national circulation.

(At least, I told Jane tonight after I’d remembered that I’d forgotten to clip the article for my predictions file, we know where the article is on file, where it can be located if necessary: at the newspaper office. I speculated about the reactions of public personalities when their predictions don’t work out. I hoped their errors are not rationalized, or made just for the publicity, since the psychics have to live with them. We’ll keep a lookout for any follow-up articles on the subject, but I suppose it will die like any other item in yesterday’s news. What do the predictors secretly think in such situations, though? No one is perfect. Jane hasn’t tried to predict similar events. For some of Jane’s predictions see Appendix A.

In those terms (underlined), it is quite as truthful to say — as I have said before — that man’s intellect is also instinctive. He begins thinking at once. He cannot help but use his intellect. The intellect, again, operates magically, spontaneously, automatically. Its most keen reasoning processes rise as a result of that natural magical action (deliberately.

(Pause.) The intellect has been taught to divorce itself from its source. It realizes in that regard a sense of powerlessness, for to some extent it is philosophically cut off from its own source of power. When it looks, therefore, at the world of political events, the problems seem insoluble. Man makes many decisions that may seem quite wrong to the intellect because of its belief systems, and because it is so cut off from other sources of information. A goodly number of those mistaken decisions, or “poor moves,” often represent self-corrective actions, decisions taken on knowledge not consciously perceived, but this escapes your consciousness.

That rational approach is, of course, connected now with scientific ideas mentioned earlier: life surrounded by chaos, the struggle for survival, and so forth. I do not mean to put down the intellect. It is highly important, but it is, if you will forgive me, as natural as a cat’s whiskers. It is not some adjunct to nature, but a part of it.

(9:32.) Each cell (pause) believes in a better tomorrow (quietly, with amusement). I am, I admit, personifying our cell here, but the statement has a firm truth. Furthermore, each cell contains within itself a belief and an understanding of its own inevitability. It knows it lives beyond its death, in other words.

(Long pause.) He also felt that the questioning power of the intellect was not just one of its functions — which it is — but its primary purpose, which it is not. In your terms the intellect’s primary function is to make clear deductions and distinctions involving the personality’s relationship with the world. Your society, however, has indeed considered the rational approach to be the masculine-favored one — so Ruburt had an additional reason in that regard to be such a proponent of the rational approach. All of the beliefs connected with the sex were of course erroneous, but they were part and parcel of that “rational” framework itself.

(“Seth, of course, not only dictates his magical material — the session — but must keep the whole session in mind while doing so, so that each sentence as he delivers it makes sense compared to its predecessors, and those to follow. Quite a feat on his part, and Jane’s, once you stop to think about it. How is this possible? Seth has no script to go by, nor can he refer during the session to my own notes to check up on what he’s already said.

“I could list hundreds of examples of what I mean. This is one of those obvious ideas that seem childish once it’s thought of. I don’t care whether or not it’s a profound thought; it has meaning for me. But as far as I know, we humans are the only species that’s obsessed with ‘change’, and ‘progress’, and ‘controlling or mastering nature’; with learning about our past and with charting our future. We strive toward an impossible, or at least rosy, future in which we will have met all of our challenges, so that we’ll live in some sort of unreal wonderland on earth. What do we do next — or will we give up on that idea too? Perhaps we’ll spend all of our time contemplating each other!

“So what about acid rain, say, to name but one human creation that’s having a strong effect upon the earth’s surface and aerial environments? We’re told that it’s now evident in a number of places on earth — often downwind from certain kinds of industrial activity. As to be expected, industry owners and operators maintain that their plants have little or nothing to do with the creation of the dead lakes in the Adirondacks in New York State, for example, or in certain Canadian provinces across the Great Lakes.

“In vivid color, as usual: I dreamed that in New York City I had gone back to my first love, drawing comics. Not comic books, however, but a syndicated fantasy-adventure story to be run in color and take up a full Sunday newspaper page. Very unusual. I saw my art for the first page, perhaps half again as large as the printed version would be, lying on a flat drawing table. It was in black ‘line’, but also with flat washes of color. For comic books, I had drawn only the black plate. The printer had furnished the color plates.

“I was not conscious of my age, 61, in the dream, nor do I remember anything about being committed to draw a daily strip also. I had a much younger assistant who reminded me of Tom Lantini, an artist friend who had been a year behind me in Sayre High, our hometown school in Sayre, Pennsylvania. In the dream, I’d left certain areas blank in the panels making up the Sunday page, and my nameless assistant had done the art to fill in those places. My main character, a male who wore a tight-fitting Superman-type costume with a flowing cape, occupied a space several panels high right in the middle of the page — quite a daring concept for a comic layout. I knew the character type well because in the early 1940s, in ‘real’ life, I’d been one of the artists who had drawn the very popular comic-book hero, Captain Marvel. My dream character stood confidently facing the reader — except that I’d omitted drawing his head! My assistant had drawn the head, though, on a small separate piece of board, and protected it with a piece of tracing paper. I thought the head was too small, but well done, quite youthful with curly black hair and handsome features, as one would expect such a magical character to have. I also saw that the head was almost too youthful for the strong physique of the character I’d drawn, although I wasn’t critical of this. All that remained was for the printer to fit the head and the body together. I sat at the drawing table examining the assistant’s work.”

“This morning, Mary called. She sounded very down; Rob, who also talked to her, agreed. But I didn’t mention my experience, much as I wanted to check it out; I didn’t want to intrude.…”

But, I told Jane, she did a far better conscious and intuitive job of interpreting my dream of Mary than I ever could. I’m grateful!