“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(This afternoon Jane did her exercises on the bed as usual. Relaxing for her nap afterward, she asked for a message from her creative, spontaneous inner self, the part that keeps her body alive and gives her life meaning and inspiration. Then she fell asleep. Later, when she was getting supper, she realized suddenly that she’d had an experience after all, that “something had happened while I was asleep, and I was delighted with it while I was asleep.” She couldn’t recall any details, however. I suggested Seth discuss the experience tonight.

(Today Jane had been very upset because her control of time seemed so faulty that she wasn’t getting all the things done through the day that she wanted to accomplish—writing, exercises, seeing an occasional visitor, using the phone—whatever she might have wanted to do on any particular day. I’d had somewhat the same feelings today, having managed to “work” at painting for but a couple of hours this morning. The rest of my time had been devoted to chores, it seemed, and both of us felt the day had slipped by without our knowing it.

It might take you years, possibly, to thoroughly discuss all of the ramifications of that insight, but the original creation comes from Framework 2 into your time. Taking it for granted, again, that physical limitations of time exist. Nevertheless when you become overly concerned with the seeming shortness or lack of time, it is almost always because you have fallen back to conventional ideas: you have only so many moments in a day. But the conventional version says, really, that those are surface moments; that you, say, run from one to the next, as if time were a moving sidewalk with the past moment vanishing forever.

I am not saying that you should not have regular working hours. I am saying that you should change your beliefs concerning the nature of time and creativity—and for Ruburt, time, creativity, responsibility, and work. (Pause.) If you become more aware of those issues, the time that you have, all of it, will quite literally seem to expand. Ruburt in one moment is often mulling over and mentally arranging his time. Figuring out how he will get such-and-such done an hour or two hours from then—so he foreshortens the moment, in that it becomes far less full than it is capable of being for him.

(Amused:) I often break off book dictation also at certain times to help relieve Ruburt of feelings of responsibility, when he thinks that he should have book sessions because of the responsible work involved. Poetry, painting, and out-of-bodies are quite as much a part of his “work” as anything else he does. To some extent all of this applies to you also.

He did not remember this afternoon’s message. The reason he did not is also the reason why people often do not remember certain dreams. The real communication is not verbal. It is not, say, a simple declaration, but involves realizations and insights of vital import that are given purposefully in such a way that they will gradually be sifted into consciousness because consciousness, the consciousness, would not be able to interpret the meanings in usual terms. This is not a good analogy particularly, but it is as if you received an important communication, say, three paragraphs of great import, with all the individual letters appearing, but not in their proper sequences, and gradually the letters would float together to form the proper words, and then the words would float together to form the proper sentences, and so forth.

At the same time all of this is known. The impact of all of our books goes far beyond, for example, the numbers sold, and it is in both of your natures (with amused irony) to send forth into your worlds books that are in exuberant opposition to its mass beliefs—(much deeper) so you can hardly expect the readership of gothic novels. Even I am more realistic than that!

Particularly in the beginning, for all of your joint complaints about Prentice, Prentice was innovative. (With humor:) I believe that Sadat on television this evening said (louder) that it takes time for old ideas to change.