“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Then today, Saturday, my pendulum told me that I felt guilty about using painting time when I should be working on Seth’s “Unknown” Reality, since the painting wasn’t bringing in money, etc. This was a subtle but important change in my knowledge—for I saw that I wasn’t so much concerned about the amount of work I had to do on the books, as that I felt guilty about doing other things. When I made this connection I knew I had learned something.

You stop, each of you, and think “Actually, how safe is this universe in which we dwell?” The money, or the need of it, in your particular situation, becomes merely a symbol for an inner sense that the universe is not safe, and so money becomes a needed security. If Ruburt becomes so spontaneous, then you must be able to make money from your painting, for he might not spend sufficient time at his work.

When that status quo shows signs of changing, you become disturbed. You stop the suggestions. In your society money is like a weapon that you need to protect yourself. You cannot equivocate (to me, forcefully). You must completely accept the fact that you do indeed dwell in a safe universe—one in which you are free to develop, say, your painting abilities to the fullest, without fearing that that development will dull the weapon that brings you money.

You are in a position that you may have never really understood. You do not particularly need more money, but it is coming to you, and naturally as rain out of the sky. Now for once you should rationally feel free in your painting time to paint, released from all requirements of buying or selling. Yet perversely now, of all times, you feel as if your painting must bring money. Why?

You still cling, however, to ideas that I tell you now are outmoded, passé and alien to the level of consciousness that is really native to you now. Give us a moment.... Creativity exists outside of time, yet your society gives you the idea that so many hours, whatever the number, must result in so many dollars—and you (to me) still cling, underneath, to that concept. You think “Time is money” —and I tell you now that time and money have nothing in common at all, and they have less in common with the nature of creativity.

Each of you built up your own set of defenses, because you did not believe that the universe was safe for creativity. Ruburt fixed it so that he could only sit at his desk—and for all your protests, my dear friend, you acquiesced. He finally became so physically upset that he is ready to dismiss the symptoms. But he also needed your help, because while the main method was his, your intents were in unison and the same—to protect yourselves and your creativity from an unsafe universe. The unsafe quality showed two faces. One: you had to cut out distractions. And two: one of you had to make money with your art or you would not survive. Between the two of you, you made your decisions.

Ruburt proudly shows this book to your neighbors, not because it is an excellent joint creative venture of merit, primarily, but because he can point to a sketch that you have made that makes money and appears in a book. The male is making dough. Passé ideas, that do not belong with the level of awareness that you are achieving.

(12:40.) Give us a moment.... Rest your hand. Your ideas of time, jointly and individually, have hampered your creativity. There seems to be a dilemma in terms of time. You can give only so many hours to my book, and so many hours to your painting. As long as you insist upon identifying creative time with physical time, the dilemma will be real. Your work on the book will be slow, for you will be sure that it “must take so much time.” Your entire physical hours must then be divided. Your painting “must take so much time.” And because you still seem to believe that your universe is unsafe, all of your creativity must give you the weapon—money—to protect you against the inequities and uncertainties of “fate.”