“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(I was also puzzled about our problems because, as I told Jane before the session, I couldn’t see where as individuals we were doing anything so terribly wrong. I added that I wasn’t trying to shift blame outside of ourselves—but still, why the extreme reactions we felt? I used the front page of the newspaper as an analogy, saying that it exhibited far worse behavior and beliefs than any we were responsible for, yet the news and world events seemed to be made by individuals who behaved much more badly than we did, and that further the people involved seemed not to suffer any consequences of note, beyond say losing a job or an election, etc. There was much more, which need not be repeated here. I concluded by saying that I did think we had plenty of insight into our own actions—far more than most people did —so why the extreme reactions?)

You expect yourself to be a great artist, lost in the intricacies of what you think of as an artistic emotional reality, innocent of any interfering intellectuality. You berate yourself on the one hand for an intellect that it seems to you separates you from immediate emotional contact with painting and with others. At the same time, of course, you would certainly berate a Van Gogh for his overly emotional behavior.

Your intellect operates beautifully in the notes and appendixes of “Unknown,” but instead of rejoicing in it, you wonder if your notes lack the very kind of emotionalism that would make that particular kind of clear intellectual objectivity most difficult. When you are writing you are pleased, finally at least, with the working of your mind—but angry that you are not painting. When you are painting you feel guilty not only because the painting does not bring in money—by now not that much of a concern, only a nagging accusation—but there also you haggle at your intellect. You wish for the intensified emotional preoccupation that would close your mind to all else but painting.

Ruburt emulates your own work habits, and tries to regulate his creative life so that it bears a resemblance to yours. He tries to be disciplined, put in his time, temper his emotional nature, so neither of you approve of yourselves. “Unknown” simply became the platform. It shows the excellent ways in which your natures interact, and that is what the reader will perceive.

Because you have that knowledge, you do not realize the frustration felt by those whose words have little if any—overall, now—impact, practically speaking. Your mental and emotional horizons have broadened, so that you now take for granted a mental world that others do indeed, and properly, look upon with wonder.

When you do, however, you see results. You pick up each other’s negative moods, however, so you ride emotional storms. Ruburt does not feel he can properly see his way out. Your feelings of spontaneity and discipline go back and forth. Ruburt should stop telling himself that he does not want to see people. He may not want to have visitors at times. On other occasions he enjoys spontaneous encounters. The eye problem has to do, physically, with his present stance—the lack of balance between the two sides of his body, causing pressure on one side of the jaw, and the ear canal, which further aggravates the fullness in the sinus, hence affecting the eyes.

Beyond that, however, is the fact that you allow yourselves, and he allows himself, no rest. You know how often, Joseph, you think about Ruburt’s condition, and it is not yours. So you can imagine how he is reminded of it with each step.