“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Jane and I have been very upset over the holidays about her eye condition, and my chest disturbances. Both have been very worrisome. I even talked about seeing a doctor on both counts. Our original understanding was that the eye condition would pass rather quickly once Jane began to loosen up—but now it appears to be another fixed state in the general scheme of our lives. We’ve had a number of discussions about the whole business, and what we can do about any of it. I’m afraid we felt little to cheer about. We planned for a session last night but it didn’t develop.

(We haven’t paid any attention to the last session, for December 26, 1977, yet it contains a line that I’ve thought of often since it came through: “Ruburt....constantly concentrates upon what is still wrong.” Actually, this is true of both of us. For tonight, then, I wanted a session with answers in it, so that we could try again in spite of past failures. I still felt we didn’t know the whole story about the eyes, as well as the other symptoms, and that Jane may have inhibited some material on those topics.

Beneath all of the other issues and reasons at any given time, and perhaps the answer to your earlier voiced question, is the act that, more important than you realize, that for some time in vital areas you have not approved of yourselves. You have not had your own approval. An animal approves of itself unthinkingly. It certainly does not judge itself against any other animal. It knows quite well that some are stronger and some weaker, but it approves of its own uniqueness—glories in it, without having any other picture in its mind of what it should be. It has its own approval.

Ruburt has not had his own approval. The physical symptoms are the physical materialization of that disapproval. They serve as a constant reminder of his imperfections—but imperfections in relationship to what? The same to a lesser extent applies to you.

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.

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.

That entire situation however “ideally” should have passed some time ago. Ruburt’s individual and your joint fears, however, prolong his tension, lengthening what should be a transitory period.

My last session was largely ignored by both of you, and yet in it there were important clues. Your own painting is growing despite your own ideas of what you think it should be. “Unknown” is a creative triumph despite your joint ideas of what that book should be.

Despite your joint ideas of what that book should be (emphatically).