“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Jane surprised me by mentioning a session at about 7:40. By the time she called me to sit for it, it was 8:35—and her mood had changed. Before she’d felt “clear-headed.” Now she had questions, and wished we’d gone right into the session as soon as she had mentioned it. As we waited for the session to begin, I read her the first questions I’d noted down from rereading the 367th session—Seth’s first comprehensive session on her symptoms, and one that’s been referred to rather often lately. I still want to study all of those early personal sessions, but haven’t progressed far because of all the new material we’ve been getting lately. But they’re always there, waiting. I didn’t expect Seth to go into my written questions this evening, although he did refer to several of them, if rather obliquely....)

Now: the overly conscientious self is opinionated, closed-minded, pedantic. It believes it is right.

The material that came from “Unknown” today—you disagreed with the type of lettering, if I understand properly. Now, that is legitimate as an artistic judgment—but it is illegitimate as a moral judgment. There is nothing wrong or inferior about the people at Prentice, who made the “improper” artistic decision. It is not immoral or wrong not to have excellent artistic judgment. The people involved are in an art department. They are individuals, doing their best to develop their abilities and their lives—but your indignation was moral in narrow terms, rather than in quite acceptable artistic ones. You do this often.

Now you have even made—both of you, now—the same kind of moral, or I should say immoral, judgments about Ruburt’s condition, which with your joint perfectionism is doubly appalling. You see it as morally wrong, not simply a physically poor condition, but a morally reprehensible one, reflecting upon Ruburt’s integrity, his knowledge, his understanding.

Now: you panic yourself. What body would not be panicked by some of your worries and thoughts? Again, I have covered this. If optimism seems to be such a simple-minded, idiotic attribute, then listen. It is indeed foolish enough to take it for granted—at least part way (and with irony)—that everything—All That Is, the important things—will somehow work out all right. The foolish body, not realizing that such a philosophy is a food for idiots, replenishes itself for good activities, and in an animal fashion anticipates comfort and exuberance.

Now let us take a peek at something else.

End of session for now.