“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

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.

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.

(Long pause at 9:27.) Give us a moment.... There are few people in such a position. He is not cowardly in that regard (as Jane had speculated during our discussion). He was, in fact, quite daring in refusing to accept the conventional spirit-guide dogma—which would at least have given him a kind of psychological covering (all emphatically.

(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.

(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.

Again, definitions of personality are important here. Ruburt could read poetry without first having to define the nature of a poet. He could meet any criticisms with suitable explanations, since any audience was not about to question the poet’s psychological validity. Any arguments would take place within an implied framework of definitions.

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.

If Ruburt wants to disagree with the world’s knowledge, he feels that it is his right—and again, would defend such ideas forthrightly. They would be based upon experiences that are his own—many that you have shared as a result of your own personal experiences together. But Ruburt is not aware of my subjective experience. My self-evident knowledge comes even if I were no more, again, than a part of his larger psyche, from reaches that would be inaccessible in those terms to him (all emphatically). That is, in those terms I would be delivering self-evident knowledge to him, revealing it (long pause), delivering it. I could not hand over the psychological quality of self-evident knowing, however. In that regard he does not have the same kind of inner experience with which to back up my words.

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.

(I told her the session was excellent, as I’d known it would be. “Yes.” she said. “I had the feeling that he was going to get into deeper stuff.” All through the session she’d sat stiffly upright in her chair; hardly relaxed. I urged her now to get back on the couch. “I wish I’d done the dishes,” she said. There was a day’s accumulation of them in the sink. The bitter wind banged the metal awnings outside; the local forecast was for a temperature of zero degrees to five/ten below. I told Jane I’d do the dishes—and read the session to her from my notes tomorrow morning after breakfast.

(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....

(Today I also reminded Jane about a question we’ve thought about at other times: Why does the portion of her that’s raising such a fuss about protection not understand the damage it’s doing to the whole personality—including itself? The circle becomes self-defeating, of course, and as far as I’m concerned reached that status years ago. Yet it persists.... Any hope we have in all of this is that our new stance will allow us to focus on the good things we have in life, and to create a synthesis of old and new ideas that will result in Jane returning to normal mobility. In this session Seth referred to Jane’s need for value fulfillment as she explored her psychic gifts. He also stated that our old frameworks of understanding force us to continue to explore reality for larger definitions. All very well, if such explorations can be carried out with a reasonable feeling of safety or protection, evidently, but if that essential ingredient or feeling is missing, then more caution must be used by us—and as I see it, that’s where we stand now. The hope is that our hiatus as far as encountering the public goes will give us some valuable time to organize new approaches to our lives.