“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(My face began to feel better, although I still had an occasional twinge. I thought this not surprising under the circumstance. At 8:45 Jane said she felt herself dissociating. She said we could have a regular session probably, but she waited to see what the best way to proceed would be. Then she began to speak at 8:50, in a very quiet voice. Eyes open often, etc.)

I am the creative self. You see me in the poetry, the psychic developments, and Sumari, but I have been forced to follow certain lines, as you suspected, despite my nature. Far more than Ruburt suspects from the beginning, his natural creative drives were also used to their ends, both religious, social, and as a way of gaining approval.

His mother’s scorn told him this was a part of a bad blood heritage, an inevitable part of his condition. Ruburt felt that his mother only liked him because of his writing. In the early novels his repressed feelings could be expressed. They were creative, but also safety valves. I made art out of them.

The repression in one way I used in the novels, but when the habit becomes too ingrained I find it difficult to retain, to transform into art. Some of my material comes from Ruburt’s repressions, but when the habit allows for too strong a charge, constantly rebuilt, this is a hindrance.

I often help, and have, by recharging him, as I did in all the creative developments to date. But then he must think “Is this good or is this bad? Am I being too free?” I can handle the early repressions. The habit of repression dropped its hold to a great degree when he met you. The situation of your illness brought it back, and from there it gained hold again.

You must understand that for nearly 20 years he lived in an environment in which expression of dissent brought instant retaliation of the most frightening kind. Outright punishment—hair-pulling or cursing. Verbal humiliation was easiest to bear, but his mother would immediately show all kinds of extremely serious symptoms, for which Ruburt would be adamantly blamed.

When you became sick he thought “Aha, mother was right, I do destroy everyone I touch, and now I have made my husband sick.” There is a great division of energy, as there is in all creators, but in his case between the need for spontaneity and discipline, safety and freedom, and these are clearly seen in the body’s condition right now.

He felt his success put you in a poor light in your mother’s eyes, and the eyes of society. An impoverished artist as a husband he could take with great pride. Once the part-time job continued and kept continuing however, once you had a job steadily, then he felt that others compared you, not with other artists but with other ordinary men who had jobs. And there, under those conditions, you made poor showing.

He felt these feelings extremely disloyal. He felt your mother was silently accusing him of putting you in a poor light whenever he succeeded. He wanted you to state your position, and say “I am an artist” to her and to the world, but he deeply feared that you considered that attitude irresponsible, frivolous, not practical; and worse, that you felt it negated the sacrifice you made by keeping the job for so long. (Not so, etc.)

You did not communicate yourself too well. Because of his abilities he picked up your feelings all too clearly, but because of his fears he picked up your negative feelings. He was afraid you were not an artist after all. He knew you were not a Sunday painter, but he felt you were greatly repressed in your work, and that any breakthrough could only come when you focused upon it, your work, regardless of other consequences.

He interpreted what you said at times to mean “You are ungrateful for my sacrifice,” but he did not think the sacrifice in those terms was necessary after the first years, and that such sacrifice could destroy your ability, your fine purpose.

He therefore did not discuss any issues with you concerning his own discouragements or fears as they happened. He felt guilty enough because you were working. He did not want to lay extra burdens on you, but he came to resent everything that was provided by a job.

Though you have left the job, the habit of repression is still strong. I know this is a burden on you, but it is important that both of you understand the repression. In some ways he has made poor judgments—for example in dealing with editors. Part of this was caused by this need for approval.

(9:37.) One of the best influences on him are the few pages in a book by a psychologist about the creative personality. He knows what they are. (The Essence Of Being, by Abraham Maslow.) They release him to a strong degree, but in the past there has been a bearing down afterward, a renewal of repressions, if he became frightened if the spontaneity has worked.

(“Yes, but I’ll have to know when it’s happening.” Meaning that Jane will have to tell me.)

(9:45. Jane slowly began to come out of it. Her eyes were heavy, closing often. Her pace had usually been fast, and she had taken now breaks. “I feel real funny,” she said at last. “Intellectually part of me is appalled but I feel triumphant also because I’ve got a clear channel up through here—”she indicated her stomach, chest and throat—”and got the material out. But I really feel strange. Part of me feels like getting sick and the other part like laying down.”

(A small incident to illustrate: Yesterday morning at 8 AM, the tenant in the efficiency next door played the radio very loud outside our window for over an hour. We both were mad, and felt like yelling, etc. Later that morning I asked the man and his wife to not do that. They agreed. [This morning we slept undisturbed.] But when I came inside after speaking to them, Jane said, “I wouldn’t dare do that.” At the same time she was smiling, and very pleased that I’d spoken up. [I had decided to speak up regardless of the consequences, though.]

(I told Jane today that when a fear is expressed, it takes its natural place in the scheme of things and no longer grows unseen. Jane at first said during our talk that she must hate many things—but it seems that hate would only be a mask for fear— hence the suggestion that instead of asking herself what she hates, a more basic question is “What do I fear?”