“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(During last week Jane told me she’d picked up that my troubles had been set off by the death of Bill Crowder on October 2. Betts didn’t write us about the death until we received her letter of the 25th on the 26th—which date being the day before I became ill. I hadn’t paid more than normal attention to Bill’s death, I thought, beyond feeling sympathy, and speculating with Jane about the money he must have left. Not that we wanted any of it. I hadn’t thought his death could bother me that much, for certainly I hadn’t dwelled upon it consciously at all.

(Yesterday we learned that P. Grenquist and others from Prentice-Hall met representatives, including the owners, of Ariston at the book fair in Frankfurt—another bit of information Jane and I wouldn’t have been told without asking; my present suspicion is that eventually Jane and I will learn that those in charge at Prentice-Hall knew all along that both Ariston and Ankh-Hermes had made changes in Seth Speaks, with their casual okay. and that we simply weren’t informed for whatever reasons. I don’t mean to be paranoid about this observation, merely that business is done that way and that the author, once he or she has produced the property to be played with, is relegated to a place much lower on the totem pole of importance.

(I might add that on the telephone with Tam the day before yesterday I really lit into Tam—rather to his surprise, I think. But I was determined that he understand our feelings—or mine, at least, in no uncertain terms, for as we talked I could feel him start using words to paper over our upset about foreign rights; I felt that his tactics would only make it possible for the whole thing to happen again with succeeding books, and that I was going to short-circuit at once. I believe my reactions, which were loud and clear, paid off, for Tam called Jane yesterday to find out, in his own way, whether I was mad at him personally. Jane said I wasn’t, of course—but of course I was.

(So as I write this on Wednesday morning at 11:20 we expect to receive from Tam today a “care package,” as he put it, of the latest correspondence involving our foreign hassles. I intend to finish this session today, and make preparations to resume painting each day. I think at the moment that I’ll continue to rise early to get three hours in on Mass Events in the mornings, paint and run errands in the afternoons, and have evenings for either sessions or more work on Mass Events. Let’s hope things run smoothly enough. As I told Jane last night, there isn’t much more we can do about foreign rights; let’s hope that challenge has been met.)

Your mother looked up to him because he made money. She held his money up to your father, and in many ways let your father know that she did not think much of him. Overall, as a male or as a breadwinner. To her he fell from an initial high estate—meaning his early success, that offered her the possibilities of wealth and social status. All of this was in the back of your mind. Your early financial success also pleased your mother, and she felt that you had fallen from a high estate, not having lived long enough to see your financial gains.

Your approach and Ruburt’s are different. Ruburt knows the defects are there. In light of his desire for creativity he simply tries much harder to ignore them than you do, and his drive for communication with others through the books is strong enough, you see, so that like a battleship he drives on.

Give us a moment.... Ruburt does not feel that you are amiss because you are not “making money on your own,” but he feels deeply your own discontent in that area, and he feels bewildered—for years ago you said so often that it would be great if you could just paint or write without worrying about money. He feels that you are highly dissatisfied. He would do anything that you wanted. You would do far better, however, to think of painting rather than a simple job, which would certainly seem like cutting off your nose to spite your face.

The male as breadwinner and the male as artist, or the title of the saga is “Bill Crowder may have been stupid, but he fit in with the crowd.”

Ruburt has done fairly well throughout all of this—fairly well. He found he could do much more than both of you thought when he had to, and you can encourage him to tell you about more, for sometimes he feels in your way.