“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

You have, again and again (with amusement) an unconventional mind, unconventional abilities—abilities that straddle several fields of endeavor. You have an unconventional wife. Because you have both utilized your abilities and tried to bring some release to that postcard world, your works have automatically resulted in a comfortable living. Your endeavors cannot be labeled, nor can your (to me) contribution to our joint work be assessed. There is no one who can tell you how many dollars per hour you receive for your work, or what value it has.

The man of letters is not understood either, and you feel that your brothers cannot understand what you do, since their minds seem relatively closed —relatively closed—to the books themselves, which would automatically offer an explanation.

(Pause.) I do not want to give you a big head, but your wit and your abilities simply place you in another area of activity, for which you should be grateful. Do not be overly parochial or nationalistic in your views. There is a great history of masculinity that expressed itself through the development of thought, quiet meditation—and I do not necessarily mean of the mystical kind—of communion of the mind with nature.

There is nothing wrong with your body. The memories and associations bring old beliefs to mind, and you see in such family visits the culmination in your brothers of those old beliefs. You must say: “They are mine no longer. I appreciate my own unique worth.” You must liberate yourself whenever such thoughts arise to mind—not by inhibiting them but by confronting them, recognizing their origins, and realizing that you have left them intellectually behind, resolving that you will emotionally free yourself from their effects.

I want to rid you of any lingering misconceptions, but you still have a lingering belief that your old ideas about money and the male have some kind of high moral value. (Louder:) The Protestants have always thought that artists were decadent, that contemplation was dangerous, and that leisure was a crime. (With continuing amusement:) To enjoy your work was suspect—and if you enjoy unconventionality of mind, some leisure in which to contemplate the world about you, then it is about time that you dismissed such parochial concepts, and realized that there is no moral rectitude given them.

Your body tries to enjoy those privileges that appear as the result of the creative abilities you are using. It enjoys good meals, a comfortable bed. It gets quite upset when a part of you thinks that it should be doing something else to make a livelihood. These ideas to some extent even inhibit natural plans rising in your mind, notes of your own that would automatically lead to a book of your own—because you pursue yourself.

(Long pause.) In the past eras of history, as you know, artists had patrons, but your society has not learned to deal with its creative people. It underpays them, ignores them, or extravagantly overpays them. They never fit that Protestant work ethic, and the very idea of a creative mind has not fit in—so far, at least—with the overall patterns of the society in terms of religion or science.

(“I started to get some material from Seth right after breakfast. I felt as if it were being gently inserted into my mind and that for some reason I became aware of it. It’s as if this often happens, material being inserted and then “stacked up” or stored there for, say, the next session. For a few minutes, five or more, I was aware of quite a bit of material on work, and the Protestant mainstream [as separate from, say, Emerson or James or Thoreau, even]. Thought I’d write it down and told Rob some of it. Now though, I just remember the subject matter more or less; now I’m not even sure of that [and it’s only about ten minutes after I told Rob what I’d picked up].