“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Now. I put this to you—that you spend time in the same way, but in your way, concentrating upon all that stands in the way of your work and concentration, until finally your work time seems consumed. Only now and then do you get on top of those thoughts and imaginings. You spend four times as much time worrying about the distractions as the so-called distractions themselves actually take. In doing so you rob yourself of peace of mind. You imagine future distractions, yet when Ruburt projects his symptoms into the future, you see clearly his error—though he may not.

Give us a moment.... Ruburt was going to use his abilities come hell or high water. He did use the symptoms as a framework. You are determined to use your abilities, but you are ever on your guard to see that you use your abilities, and that they do not “use you;” so you set up working habits, but you do not allow yourself a real environment of freedom in which to work. You consciously tell yourself over and over that this or that bothers you. You concentrate upon the distractions in the same way that Ruburt does upon his symptoms.

Frank can say to Ruburt (Frank called Jane a “tough little bird”—which she liked), “Truly, your legs can straighten. The muscles are tight, but they are not impaired,” and you can agree that this is true. Ruburt is faced with the sensation of tightness, however—there is something there in his experience to deal with, so that his senses can conform to his belief about his body. While he tries to free it he is faced with the lingering, quite valid-seeming evidence of his senses. So you are encountering the evidence of your senses, so that the chores seem to hound you. You do not seem to have time in a day to do what you want. As long as you keep telling yourself those things, they will be true. Ruburt is trying to say “There is nothing basically wrong with my body, though in my reality there seems to be.” That sounds like a legitimate statement to you, and it is. I am telling you that the number of distractions in your life is laughable, though in your experience they appear quite threatening. “I am free to do my painting.” How many times have you said that to yourself—yet in that statement lies great freedom, for you must change your belief.

You also have ideas of guilt about your painting that are culturally induced. Again, you recognize them, but you do not try to rise above them emotionally. The painting does not bring in money, so to punish yourself you do not enjoy it sufficiently—but concentrate upon the distractions instead. You do your financial part with the books, but you still tie in your social identity with your painting, and to some extent you still feel that that social identity is dependent upon the money your “art” should produce, so you punish yourself by not enjoying your painting time. This also impedes your spontaneity in painting, of course.