“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Ruburt believes he should be a TV personality, a healer, a writer, an excellent psychic versed in all of the most esoteric traditions, a magnetic personality. He believes he should be objectively intellectual, cool and calm, and spontaneous at the same time. He should be in glowing health—glowing—and shine amid the multitude. A rather impossible task, that would make any individual feel quite inferior by contrast.

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.