“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Jane’s sessions have been very irregular also, and she hasn’t worked on Seth’s latest book for some months now. Therein lay one of those clues that was right in front of us, yet invisible at the same time. In each Seth book there have been layoffs, so to speak—long or longish periods in between certain sessions, while, usually, we held personal sessions in the interim; these were usually devoted to trying to get at the root causes of Jane’s symptoms. This pattern was most pronounced while Seth was producing Mass Events, but without checking at the moment we remember similar if shorter layoffs while the previous books were being produced. This has always bothered me to some extent, but I usually told myself that was Jane’s way of working, and to forget it. It did make for some tricky work writing notes for Mass Events, say, to explain these long periods in between certain sessions in the book.

(As soon as I reread her paper the evening before last, I was reminded of the two excerpts I’d copied from recent deleted sessions—those for January 26 and 28, 1981. In them Seth briefly explained how Jane had created her symptoms as protection against the spontaneous self going too far: this fear was the real reason for the symptoms—not, as we usually thought, her fear that she would do other things besides work if she had normal mobility. The latter idea is a cover-up for the previous one. To Jane, going too far means that she would find herself in an unsafe position in the world. And to me, as I began to put all of this together, it meant that although she did the Seth books, which we think so highly of, she also drags her feet in resistance with each one—hence the long intervals of non-work that crop up during the production of each one. Again, without checking, I think that an examination of our records would show that her symptoms flared up, indeed worsened, as she worked on each Seth book, and that behind her labors on each book there lay this fear that she was going too far with each one she produced. This fear may be based on outmoded ideas—as Seth has mentioned at various times—it may make no sense, or whatever, yet as long as it exists it must be dealt with. This present session represents, then, our latest attempt to come to terms with all of our personal, public, and creative aspects involved with the Seth material—not just those we’d chosen to deal with in past years.

(Yesterday morning, then, while painting, the thought came to me clearly: Jane does the Seth books just to please me. I knew at the time that this was likely to be an oversimplification, yet I also knew at once that it contained the key to the puzzle; this rather simple idea helped me assemble all of the information already described in these notes, half of it in ways I cannot consciously describe. But it did lead to the discussion I had with Jane this noon [on the 4th], and this session. All at once I had several ideas I wanted to talk over with her.

(This noon after lunch, then—on the 4th—Jane and I had a discussion about the ideas mentioned above. My latest efforts to cope with our challenges involve her letting go of Seth’s latest books. Dreams, for some time. That is, we can work on it if we want to, but with no thought of deadlines or signing a contract, which would commit Jane to additional public exposure. The idea is that she’ll be free to do what she wants with the Seth material, for as long as she wants to, without our adding fuel to her fears until we’ve had a chance to work things through. I told her I was sure I was on the right track here, without knowing positively that I was, and without having pat answers that would solve all of our hassles.

(Putting off Dreams, it seemed to me, was a necessity at the moment because I now believed that the long interlude in her dictation was, again, a clear sign of resistance to the project on Jane’s part. The idea is an attempt to at least call a halt to something that she has resisted from the start, or so it seems in retrospect—and I mean the start of the sessions, not just Dreams. I reminded her that I was the one who first suggested we start publishing the Seth material, and that she’d had reservations about doing that. It seemed to me now that a clear course of hanging back had been displayed by Jane all though our psychic endeavors, and that it could be easily charted if we took the time to do so. I said that she would have probably used her psychic gifts in some fashion in her writing, but that the Seth books might very well have not come into existence except for my own interest—hence my mental insight this morning that Jane did the Seth books to please me. I know things aren’t that simple, but I do feel that the fact of public exposure represented by the Seth books has always bothered Jane. And currently she has been bothered more than ever, as she has described in her December 27, 1980 paper. This upset includes her work on her own latest, The God of Jane.

(Like class, Jane has often been threatened by the mail, only more overtly, as well as by personal visitors who sought us out. Another example of this occurred at noon, when we were visited by two beautiful young ladies—who, unfortunately, were using the Seth material in ways we wouldn’t have. All such incidents, I told Jane, reinforce individual actions on the part of readers that would be quite rejected by the establishment: further signs of how far outside accepted thought Jane has found herself over the years. I explained here that I thought this has always bothered her deeply. No reviews in accepted journals, no welcome in the universities by academia, as she herself wrote in God of Jane. And of course the whole lengthy disclaimer bit for Mass Events beautifully sums up the situations: Even our own publisher seeks to protect itself from possible legal action because of the material within the Seth books. Jane sees this as a threat, although she doesn’t say much about it. And I for one wonder about disclaimers for future books—or even having them added to past works.

(Even today’s mail, which we read after finishing our discussion, contained several beautiful examples of points I’ve described above. This brought up another matter—our being confronted with the work we have published, as well as by Mass Events and God of Jane. No way to get away from those fifteen books of the past, I said, so to that extent we have to live with the results they engender. I too wondered about dispensing with answering the mail, while being very reluctant to do so, since many of the letters are openly laudatory, and we save them for reference [although we haven’t actually used any for such purposes]. But therein lies trouble, too, I said, because they would reflect Jane’s concern about public exposure, her fears about leading people astray.

(I repeated in our discussion that it was perfectly all right with me if Jane chose not to publish any more Seth books, but concentrated on her own works, and she said she understood this. It’s my personal opinion, at least of the moment, that it will be quite a while before Dreams is either finished or printed. At least Jane now has some breathing space, and the cycle of resistance may be interrupted, say, if not reversed yet. We now have time for Framework 2 to operate. In this interim I may do some work on Dreams myself, or start something of my own.

(I also learned during the discussion that Jane didn’t like the Seth book material being tied too closely to current events, as witness Mass Events and Jonestown and Three Mile Island. She reminded me also that even the title of Mass Events, when Seth had given it, had alarmed her, or at least aroused some sort of defensive mechanism in her—something I’d forgotten. On the other hand, I’d taken it for granted that the way Seth had used current events in Mass Events had been quite natural and extremely informative, offering a much broader view of human affairs. This little dilemma also pointed up some of Jane’s other reactions to remarks I would make, innocently enough, I thought, to the effect that Seth could do a great book on any number of current events—the latest being the whole hostage question. She hadn’t really been in favor of such endeavors, then, even when she discussed them with me.

(Nor, I might add, had I ever pressed her to do books with Seth on current events. It’s clear now that she would see such efforts as leaving her too open to public attack. The same goes for appearances on TV—as note our recent involvement with the ABC news offer—and, probably, on radio. In short, then, it seems that any overtures she may choose to make about encountering public reaction to her abilities will —and should be—of her own choosing. Perhaps if she attains a sense of inner peace and protection she will come to naturally make such choices; doing which will encourage her feeling of personal freedom and safety instead of threatening it.

(Perhaps our biggest challenge from now on will be how to deal with the “fallout” from work we’ve already done—those 17 books out there that are constantly drawing a very mixed group of reactions from people “across the board.” Not all of this is bad, of course, and I trust that here again Jane will gradually come to an accommodation with such responses, seeing them not as implied threats, but as true reinforcements of her abilities, which, as we have learned, really do have the power to move others in a variety, and often profound number of ways.

(As I covered her up for a nap at 4:30 this afternoon, I asked her “how one person could raise so much hell?”—meaning that in line with our talk today I now believed that the whole Seth business, and especially the books, had been conducted in the face of a steady, fierce resistance. One foot dragging the other after it, was a way I’d put it recently. That resistance is the state that we absolutely must dissipate, I think.

There is some difference, of course, in Ruburt’s mind between his attitude toward his books and mine. To some extent this is more than understandable. He would (pause), had I not emerged, written books of his own in any case. He would have encountered no unusual obstacles as far as his public stance was concerned, in that he would have felt the rather characteristic dilemma of some creative writers, who must assimilate the private and public portions of their experiences. He would have had no unusual difficulty, however, in say, standing up for his own ideas—holding his own, so to speak, in any arguments or philosophies.

He would have been in that case operating himself within the recognizable framework of psychological identity, being himself within the context of personality structure as it would be defined by all. He feels quite competent with his own books. They begin by giving some verbal tribute to old definitions, and then take off from there, having firmly established the fact that he is more or less in the same kettle of fish. In that regard there is little ambiguity.

Now, my books do not pretend to even accept those conventions, but start out from a different viewpoint entirely. That viewpoint alone makes a difference. That viewpoint alone establishes a different kind of pattern. It assumes to know. It speaks of knowledge that is self-evident from my point of view. It offers no apologies for itself. It presupposes a vaster structure of personality and identity, period.

The books that I have written are excellent conveyors, not only of content but of essence. In a fashion, as far as the psyche is concerned, they come from a portion that is indeed immersed in knowledge that is self-evident.

You have first of all to explain your definition of personality, to attempt redefinitions of a very emotional kind, for when you are speaking of, say, space and time, that is one thing. When you are asking people to reexamine the whole matter of personal identity, you are setting conditions that may frighten many of them. Ruburt feels that he could, for example, explain any of his own books from his own framework quite well. To explain my books is something else again, and in that manner of speaking, my books are self-evident also.

(Pause.) He is appalled with the way that many people interpret my material. Sometimes it seems he would prefer even a smaller but more select group of readers (with amusement)—readers who were tops in their fields, or who in one fashion or another earned his respect. The point is that our books reach all kinds of readers in all walks of life. That is because all kinds of people are innately acquainted with the nature of self-evident knowledge.

They may misinterpret its nature, project it outside of themselves, turn it into a hobby, a chore, a religion, an art, a rigorous set of laws—but reading my books, they recognize the authority of the inner psyche.

(9:40.) In that regard he felt that he was violating an important cultural taboo, and embarked upon a program that would necessitate caution, self-protection, and a certain detachment. He was determined to go ahead, because his own value fulfillment sought those directions—such was his nature. My published works, however, presented him with what he felt to be a public stance in a different fashion than his own would (louder). My books automatically seemed to suggest a framework of reference to which few others could have access.

Before even hearing the poetry no such audience, Ruburt felt, would question the fact of poetry itself—its techniques, traditions or value. My books, however, by their very existence appear in a world that largely does not concern itself with anything but the most surface elements of psychological reality. (Long pause.) The matter of duplicity almost immediately arises. Ruburt feels the existence of innumerable barriers in that regard—having, he feels, to fend with the questions that ensue.

To some extent he lacks the kind of faith in people that I have, because of the belief systems that surround you. It bothers him that some people, he thinks, consider that our books make up another bible or its equivalent, and it seems to him that their lack of understanding in that regard hampers his own creativity.

The success of the books brings such questions into prominence, of course, and I will discuss more of those allied concerns.

Give us a moment.... the books themselves—mine as well as his—are themselves indications of achievements (pause) that are not easily broken off, since they represent the natural, creative development of his own abilities and growth. They also provide, if you realize it, the solutions to your dilemmas, as I hope you shall shortly see. That is, they provide you with that larger framework of understanding, for the old frameworks of understanding force you to continue to explore your reality for larger definitions. In those areas of concern, then, Ruburt is still involved with too-small definitions.

(10:15 PM. Jane came out of trance very heavy-lidded. Then: “I guess it’s me —but write this down, if I can get it quickly enough—about creativity and dogma. I think it’s in relation to my book dictation.”

(Jane’s dream about Oswego reminded me of a little episode that I think of every so often, and that I’ve referred to in a note in one of the books, I think—probably Mass Events: When I’d asked her once years ago what she wanted to do more than anything else in life, she’d answered quickly, “Change the world.” Her conflict can be easily seen, then, manifesting between that idea and her deep-seated need for protection.

(That topic ties in with my idea that I mentioned to her this afternoon, about it hardly being a coincidence that many events in our lives are coming to a head at the same time: Our deep upset about Jane’s condition; the trouble with the disclaimer idea for Mass Events; Prentice-Hall’s reorganization into the General Publishing Division, in which all of their narrative books will be phased out, thus eliminating any real need for Tam and his job; indeed, Tam is looking at other job offers even now. [It’s been my position for some time now that Tam will end up leaving Prentice-Hall, or will be let go.] If and when he does go, we will be without our friend there, and will have to make decisions based on that departure. But we may be in the process of making such decisions even now, I suspect. I doubt if we would follow Tam helter-skelter to another publishing house if he left Prentice-Hall tomorrow—especially in light of our decision to hold off on Dreams. And the irony of the situation is that, even though we detest the idea of the disclaimer for Mass Events, we see it as another means of protection in the public arena....

(I doubt if finances are a problem, incidentally, as I explained to Jane. We have two books coming out this year; when they earn back their advances there will be income from them. Many of Jane’s other books also produce a yearly royalty income in the meantime. She may do other books than on matters psychic, and these will earn money also. If our income dropped because we committed ourselves to no new books, the royalty and the interest on our savings would be much more than adequate to live on, for then state and federal taxes would melt away. Financially, then, now is an ideal time to experiment with any changes we may want to put into effect. Jane’s poetry book is due in 1981; she’s started a “Seven.”

(As for myself, I have more than enough to do to keep me busy indefinitely. Helping Jane, taking care of the house, typing sessions, working on taxes and other correspondence, filing, painting—these things and many others are more than enough to keep me going indefinitely. And since I will not be doing the formal notes for another Seth book for some time, it now seems impossible that I managed to find as much time as I did to work on the previous books.