“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

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.

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 broke down in tears now. I held her up in her chair as she cried. I felt like crying too. The portion of her personality that had been speaking sounded hurt and defeated, and in the process of retreat. I am not trying here, now, to judge this portion—herein after called “it” for convenience—or to say that it is going to vanish forever, or release its hold overnight. We will see.

(Jane tried to say more. I talked to it, offering reassurances, saying we didn’t require it to leave us, but merely to understand our need for freedom. The physical freedom symbolized creative freedom, I said. To us freedom of motion meant creative freedom. It agreed, as Jane cried. She became very relaxed in her chair, so that I had to hold her upright.

(By 10:25 the tears seemed to be over. Jane felt so limp and relaxed, I told her, that it seemed she had shed two tons of weight. The crippled black cat we’ve made friends with here cried outside our door, so I let him in and fed him. We split a beer. I held the cup to Jane’s lips because she said she was too relaxed to hold it. As I wrote these notes she half lay on her own chair with her head in my lap—a position she hadn’t taken for years. She yawned again and again. She didn’t want to lay on the bed.