“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Jane’s Tuesday paper on her feelings is evidently a very important one, representing some excellent insights on her part about her repressed impulses, her fears about my reactions to various events, her private nature and public appearances, and related topics. I’d say that to some extent at least its content flows from the proposed interview with a reporter from The Village Voice, a contact made with the business manager at WELM in town, and so forth—hardly accidental, we think, that these events connected with publicity, her work, etc., come into our awareness at this time. They seem to be like small test cases, meaning that our reactions to them, how we handle them, will show rather clearly where we’re at these days, as they say.

(First, from the library, after we’d done our thing following breakfast today:

(“Impulses have a life-serving, life-promoting, creative basis, and possess a spontaneous order—though as we will see, that order may not be immediately apparent since the orderly pattern is larger than our conscious span of events.”

(After finishing the library material, Jane called The Village Voice on impulse, but ended up feeling she didn’t do well: She didn’t get to speak to Jim Poett, who was not there, or to his editor. She asked a friend of JP’s to have him send her tear sheets of his last two articles, which I thought an excellent idea. The friend, also a reporter, mentioned the Middle of Silence people to Jane, which she didn’t like, although she learned things. Jane also gave the reporter our phone number, which she regretted doing later. I said I thought it better that she did follow the impulse, though, since anything, any action, was probably better than sitting immobile.

(After supper this evening, Jane had a rather strong reaction, a new determination that had arisen from her encounters with the idea of impulse and inspiration. Making ready for the session, I discovered that she was quite vehemently going over and expressing [to some extent] what she’d learned today. She didn’t know whether she’d have a session or not. We talked about it all. She was “agitated, yet half-relaxed.” she said more than once. I thought it all a very good sign that some of our new thinking was beginning to take hold. Certainly the events were healthy and positive, compared to our earlier ways of thinking and reacting. I can’t describe Jane’s reactions too well from the observer’s viewpoint, except to approximate them here. Her stomach was queasy, she said, as it sometimes gets when she deals with very personal material that is also very accurate.

There is something I want to tell both of you, and I hope you can see what I am trying to say. Ruburt does not need to apologize to anyone for his less-than-perfect physical condition, nor feel that his physical lack of mobility—relatively speaking—casts aspersions on the sessions or on our work. Nor need he feel that in contrast to our material his physical performance is woefully inadequate. The wording of that last sentence is important, for obviously his condition is inadequate—but he owes no one an apology in that regard.

Neither of you should feel embarrassed—or, rather, ashamed—of his physical condition either, nor consider it more reprehensible because of our work, than you would consider it otherwise. This entire material is important and vital.

Original thinkers, creative innovators, often have their difficulties with their fellow men, even if their careers are backed up by academic credentials, organizations, or whatever. Again, Ruburt has none of those frameworks. He was also to some extent blighted by those same errors that our material is trying to correct, as each person is to some extent in your world.

They also of course must to some degree still bear traces of their society’s official errors. So do not have Ruburt knock himself too badly, and do not feel hangdog in your attitudes about his condition, when you think of it in relationship to our work. That change in attitude alone can be very beneficial.