“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

One of the main root assumptions of your popular world has been that the future does not exist in the present. Religion deals with the idea of an afterlife, again, a future event. Even those who accept reincarnation, again, usually believe that the past is finished and the future yet to come. In a way, the idea of past reincarnations often gives a feeling of support of past lives accomplished.

The idea of future lives brings into consideration certain emotions—man’s fear of the future, for he is often afraid of what tomorrow will bring. Again, a future life presupposes death in the present one. That idea of death usually serves as an effective block against such future explorations.

Probabilities intersect at all points, however, so that you can choose to accept such advice or not. If you do, then again from your viewpoint that particular next earthly life will be yours. If you do not, your next earthly life will be a different one, where for example that information from the future did not take, or was not given.

Any life is a future one according to your framework, or any life is a past one according to your framework. It is, therefore, the focus of your attention that delineates your time period, and provides a psychological stance from which you will then view all other selves, or all other experiences of your entity. Your world is presently based so upon the ideas of cause and effect that precognition is frowned upon. The idea of a knowledge of future lives becomes even more threatening from a cultural, religious, and scientific viewpoint.

The further you are removed from so-called historical fact, the greater the fabrication, of course. The true story of identity is vastly complicated. In your terms you do exist in the past, present and future simultaneously. You do have an identity of your own that is never annihilated. On the other hand there are no boundaries to that identity, so that each self is not like a definite unit, always the same. And to some extent one self or identity cannot be equated with any other.

You like to deal with classifications, so that you equate one apple with one other apple, one cat with another cat, one person with another person. The greater varieties of subjective experience, however, allow for no such easy equations.

(9:54.) When I use the word “equal,” however, I am not speaking of superiority or inferiority at all. In basic terms, however, you cannot equate one self with another self—or for that matter one life with another life, for the subjective realities of people involve dimensions that do not show physically.

Each entity, for example, is different from any other, and will seek different kinds of focuses and intents. There are vast individual differences operating there also. One entity might focus its main energy, intent, and drive in one particular earth life, filled with incredible creativity, so that that “focus life” becomes a central core for all other existences, the foundation and the source of energy for all other lives.

This does not mean that those other lives are subordinate. Other entities might spread their creativity and focus more equally over many lives. But in all cases the entity is simply the part of the self that cannot fit into one life alone. It is not, for example, an alien superself. When you go on a journey you cannot take your home with you—only certain luggage. In physical life, you cannot take your entire entity with you—only the part of it that you call yourself. And you are well-equipped with the proper passports, and inoculated with certain root assumptions.

(10:06.) Give us a moment.... You are dealing with your father, for example, from one probability only—the one in which you knew him. As I told you once before, his “main life” was not here, in your terms. (See Volume 1 of “Unknown” Reality.) In the realities in which you saw him in the dream state, he was a wanderer—lonely, from your viewpoint, not his. The dreams represented your symbolic understanding that he was “a loner” in the probability in which you knew him—and in that guise you saw your father.

The relationships between people that you know cannot be amply worked out in any one given life as understood, and those relationships are fleshed out in probabilities. Some of this is almost impossible for me to explain to you, for you move through probabilities so transparently while still maintaining your identity.

You deal in this area, as in all areas, with probabilities. Ruburt’s body is changing into a more or less normally flexible one. He is pulling that probability toward him. When he is beginning a book, however, he does not think “This is a probable book.” It becomes his book, period. That is because he does not dwell upon possible impediments, and is relatively self-confident.