“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(I hadn’t read today’s local paper until I had a minute to scan it while we waited for the session to begin. Jane had read it, however, yet missed the article I called to her attention. It’s attached to this session as page 302 and describes what seems to be in ordinary terms a senseless and horrendous story: A 20-year-old drunken driver crashed head-on into another auto, killing two people, the father and an aunt, and putting the other five passengers, all members of the same family, into the hospital. Since the article is attached, we can pass up the details here. Jane and I talked about the feelings of guilt and blame that are fated to surround the survivors for the rest of their lives, particularly the teenage children and the drunk driver. It seemed that they would carry a heavy burden for perhaps half a century, say. For my part, although I believe Seth’s contention that there are basically no accidents, I was still torn between understanding of that premise, and outrage that a young drunk could wreak such havoc on a seemingly innocent family of seven people. I didn’t know whether to attempt to forgive him or demand life imprisonment, for example. In short, I thought it grossly unfair that the cause of the accident was still alive—although hospitalized —while two “innocent” victims were dead, with a whole family damaged beyond repair, for life. It seemed too much to bear, and quite unexplainable in ordinary conscious-mind terms. I thought it a classic example that could be explained in Seth’s terms, though—the type of new information that at least could try to make sense out of such seemingly random happenings that we see as so tragic. In that way, then, my discussion of the event touched upon pretty basic premises of the Seth material.

(However, neither of us had the slightest idea that Seth himself would use the account—which Jane hadn’t read, don’t forget—as the subject matter for his first delivery tonight. I d say he did an excellent job of it. And his work in turn led me to what I think of as an exceptionally good idea for a book, which I’ll describe at first break.)

The father (a Mr. Moore, killed at age 47) had other difficulties. He did not want to die of a long illness. He felt trapped. He wanted to leave his wife (who is 49) and yet could not bring himself to do so. The older woman (an aunt, killed at age 77) also wanted a quick death. The wife, however, also unconsciously aware of the events, would therefore share in them.

The children were also obviously involved, and the accident would give them a new lease on life, for they had sensed an overall pervading sense of despair that lay at the family’s center stone, so to speak.

The “victim car”—or rather its inhabitants, and the driver of the “killer car” had alike reached out into probabilities, seeking circumstances that would in fact occur. The children were not to be killed, for example, and in some near encounters in the past, their deaths would have been involved.

He was looking for someone like the young boy, someone whose actions would result in his death, but in a death without malice, a death that would in its way serve an important purpose. For the “accident” saved the young man’s life, and this was our father’s final gift to the world. The boy was inclined toward suicide. He would not have taken anyone with him. He wanted to die, but also in an indirect fashion, in that he could not consciously shoot himself, while he could kill himself in an event that seemed to be accidental.

There is nothing in man’s nature that makes such behavior essential. A true realistic exploration of the nature of experience would automatically study that kind of emotional interrelationship, but while your society delineates the inner particles of matter, it avoids the inner psychological “particles” that form the most intimate experiences of your lives.

(10:15. Jane’s delivery had been fast and sure throughout, the material unexpected but excellent. It would be most interesting, I told Jane, if eventually we could manage to check out some of Seth’s material on the surviving members of the family discussed this evening—after the wounds had healed, and provided any of them would be willing to talk about what had happened. Personally, I’d not try it for fear of prying, nor do I think Jane would.

(Our conversation about this during break led me to what I think is an exceptionally good idea for a book—one done even in conventional terms. It would be for the author to conduct a survey of the surviving members of families involved in such accidents, to study the after-effects, see what changes the tragedy had brought about in their lives, their habits, ways of thinking and looking at life—in short, the detailed study of each family case history would comprise an intimate, in-depth probing of all the complicated effects that had resulted from that single tragic event.

(I told Jane that the farther back the author could reach for his studies, the better, so as to have more room for study as far as the passing years were concerned —say that he interviewed a man of 40 whose father had been killed while the boy was 19, say. The idea actually embodies several ideas, or books. A detailed study of one large family group so involved in a tragedy could easily take up an entire book. Another approach would be half and half: First the family story in usual terms; then that same family story studied with Seth’s ideas in mind. The insights that could result, Jane and I agreed, could have excellent psychological and social implications toward understanding of such seemingly senseless accidents. I think that Seth’s insights into the accident discussed this evening are a good capsule case in point, and much more penetrating than could be arrived at in usual terms.

(So I felt a keen regret, actually, that the idea, one of the best I’ve ever had, will probably never be used. Neither Jane nor I have the temperament for it, or even the time if we did want to do it. It could be developed as a novel. We talked about the difficulties that might be involved in getting family members to talk openly to strangers, too, about what had happened to them. Some we thought would be glad to, others most vehemently not. Also, how would one explain to a family that with Seth’s ideas in mind certain other family members had chosen, or planned, their deaths? Not an easy thing to do at all, unless lots of time was available, and perhaps an exceptional willingness to learn on the parts of such families. I suppose that part of any such survey could also go into the refusal of certain families to restudy what had happened to them in the light of Seth’s ideas.

You both decided—and insisted upon—adding this timelessness to your lives. You avoided other roots that might allow you to fit into the times in an easier fashion, for those very roots would tie your imagination and ideas to the times, however invisibly.

I want to give a fairly thorough session Wednesday on your current circumstances, and Ruburt’s condition, so I will do that then. I would suggest, however, that you again begin to do the library together for a few moments each day. I will discuss your attitudes Wednesday, jointly, and make the points that will be beneficial currently.