“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Now: When you concentrate mainly (underlined) in Framework 1 and its communications with Prentice, then while overall you do achieve results of a beneficial nature—the publication and distribution of the books in a largely adequate form—there are glaring discrepancies also: entanglements that you do not like because you have taken your intent from Framework 2, where the creative event began, and placed it into Framework 1’s communication system almost entirely. Obviously you need Framework 1, with its letters, telephone calls, and so forth—but Framework 1’s communication system, while physically handy, also is somewhat like a very poor telephone connection, with static at both ends.

You set a far more favorable group of probabilities into motion, a group that aids you and them as well, for they are also seeking creativity from their separate viewpoints. They are also fighting their own static. You do not have to contact them one by one in Framework 2. The book itself is like a magnet—any book. The same kinds of reactions, however, are involved in all activities, and it is sometimes frustrating for me that you cannot perceive the fascinating facets of any event. All group interactions of course are involved here. (Pause.) You still —and I do not simply mean you two alone—do not feel the unsurpassable force that thoughts have. You do not understand that they do form events, that to change events you must first change thoughts. You get what you concentrate upon. To brood or worry, or become resentful, is as regrettable as it would be if you, say, painted a big X over one of your paintings because you were dissatisfied with a detail or two. Over a period of time, resentments X out large areas of otherwise productive experience.

Mankind’s most majestic experiences, and his most unfortunate, still come from that same great creative force. I have been very careful in my use of the word love, because it is so bandied about and distorted—but all creativity, and any work of art, and any life, springs from love—a love that automatically brings all things into their own kinds of order. The artist paints because he loves to. His brain and fingers are able to produce a painting because they are themselves formed of love.

I am not speaking of some cold, idealized love, but of infinite, intimate expressions of it that help compose any physical form. That is the basis of existence.