“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(When Jane came out of the bathroom after washing, she said several times that she was getting this information, that it had a strong charge behind it, and that she “didn’t know what to do.” She repeated this phrase several times. The feelings wanted to explode, she said. She had experienced similar feelings some other times here in the past week, particularly after the last session, and made an effort to discharge them reasonably by talking. I thought that probably the feelings should be allowed to come out violently, but we were inhibited by our surroundings, and probably fear, etc. At any rate it seemed a great help that we had even reached the feelings. I asked Jane, rather impatiently at last if she could discharge the feelings in a session, as we had planned.

(She said she thought Seth was trying an experiment, that it was better to do it this way. She could feel Seth about, but he was letting her go ahead on her own.)

You began to change your ideas. I expected them to be unswerving. When it seemed you would not police the two of you with the intense fervor necessary, I began to do so, and took upon myself all those attitudes that had been yours. It was easy. Ruburt is literal-minded in many ways. He looked up to you. The constant suggestions took root, and I used this for my purposes.

I do not want you to go hungry, or to be unhappy. I do not want you to be in want, but outside of that nothing else concerns me but your work.

My methods have not brought about what I wanted, however. Now you spend half of your time trying to figure them out, and what is wrong with Ruburt—time that you should be working. I do not care if both of you die poor, but I do demand that you live using your abilities.

My demands, to me, are simple and reasonable. More than that, I see no others worthwhile. All you have to do to please me is work a reasonable amount of hours daily; then I do not care what you do, but I expect that purpose to govern and direct your lives to be the focus about which all other events happen, not a sideline.

I accept no substitutes, and in that respect I am like a jealous God. I am also somewhat like a computer gone amuck, however, if my methods do not meet my ends. I want the main energizing portion of you directed into your work, both of you. Now they have been directed toward Ruburt’s condition. The condition will vanish automatically if these ends are met. They are side effects.

If you work on your own, both of you, then I do not need to police you. You are free to play and wander when your work is done. I tried to have him sit and write books, chained to his chair, don’t you see. The purpose twofold: to see that he worked creatively himself, and could not have a job, and to have money so that you could paint full time.

The more the books were written, the less willing it seemed you were to do what I wanted. The struggle made it difficult even to create for a time. I was caught between using my energies to help Ruburt create, and trying to get money through the creativity for you to quit. This itself hampered the creative drive, hence the dream book difficulty.

To me, my demands are simple. I rage when neither of you work as you should. Show me you do not need a policeman, that if I let go you will not slide away from your goals. I am a taskmaster. That is my role. I am reasonable, however. I am willing now to negotiate. In negotiating with me you negotiate with yourselves. I do not accept compromises. I do accept solid work and firm intent.

I need your cooperation now, since the methods that I chose have fallen so poorly. Apparently I must allow you more freedom, but you must use the freedom to do what I want you to do.

(“Well, we’re perfectly willing to do that.”

I am tired. I have done my best. I do need your understanding and cooperation now. I have worked long and hard for you; though it seems that I have been a tyrant, I have always tried to be the servant of your own abilities.

I am dismayed. I did not think Ruburt would work unless he was chained to his chair, so I chained him, both to do his own work and force you to do yours. Then you both fought me. He did not like working chained, and I tried to make the chains appear as natural as I could. He is not physically harmed to any great degree (one of the questions I wanted discussed tonight, although I never mentioned it to Jane), or maimed. I can say however that for some time I did not care if he was, if these purposes were met. I see now that they would not be, that instead all your time would be spent concentrating upon the condition that was meant as a protection, until no work was done—hence my dismay. I was not appreciated, though I did my best for you.

(Jane said she was in an altered state of consciousness as she delivered the material, yet was aware of what she said as she said it. “I felt this real sad ‘Okay, I’m going,’ at the end,” she said. It had wound up confused over what to do, but I thought we could help it understand as the days passed. I thought she was achieving, or trying for, an integration of drives that might be very important. I hoped that the motivations behind it would rise to join her ordinary consciousness.

(Later the next day, as I write these notes, she told me her knees are “working, bending somewhat,” as they haven’t been doing. She has been walking stiff-legged.)