“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(We almost didn’t have the session. An unexpected visitor arrived at about 8 PM—Walter from Connecticut—and Jane talked to him for at least half an hour. Then she did the dishes, and so forth. All this time she was so uncomfortable in her chair that I thought she’d pass up the session, although I’d been hoping she’d get at least a little something on herself; I thought we shouldn’t be losing any chances to do so at this time.

(Finally she called me for the session at 9:40 PM. Again she struggled to get comfortable, just as she’d done for last Wednesday night’s session. Walter is a nice young man. I went back to working on taxes while Jane talked to him, and at the same time found myself wondering whether his unexpected visit might symbolize one of the very facets of Jane’s dilemma about privacy versus the public life—at least as I understand it: Her vulnerability and availability to anyone who chooses to come here. We can’t get away. Others must know this, by whatever means, and may take advantage of her immobility. Walter, for example, told us that when he woke up this morning he decided to go see Jane Roberts—so he just came. [This was his second visit, the first being a couple of years ago.]

(“Walter wants to be ‘a great psychic teacher’ like me or Cayce,” Jane said as we waited for Seth to come through. He therefore expressed an attitude typical of many visitors or those who write—attitudes that really bother Jane. “I didn’t feel good when he came in.” Jane continued, “but at the same time I enjoyed talking to him. He energized me and I forgot my troubles....” Walter didn’t stay too long, as noted, because I’d asked him not to. In this case at least, then, Jane had reacted positively to someone drawn to her by a public aspect of her abilities.

He encounters the invisible organization of my books, say, the effect of those books upon others. He recognizes the vast complexity that lies behind our relationship, and therefore is ever aware of psychological issues encountered by few other people, relatively speaking. His relationship with me, and mine with him, is bound to be interpreted in multitudinous ways by our readership, the public and so forth. To some extent (pause), there can be a feeling of inferiority on his part (pause), one that he does of course not deserve. He focuses in the world, and I do not.

He is dealing with still-largely unknown phenomena, so that he has, of course, no pat answers to fall back upon. I will return to this subject later. What it means in the context of tonight’s discussion is that he feels there is no established framework that he will accept to explain our relationship in, say, the public arena outside of the books, which allow him to make considered statements, and provide room for reasoned thought.

Public interviews involve him, therefore, in far more than the selling of books, you see, connected with the tours of people who are merely writers. To that degree he feels at a certain disadvantage. If he simply did not want to make any public statements outside of the books themselves, there would be no problems there. He simply would refuse. If he were poorly equipped to speak in public there would be no problem. He found out, however, that he could (underlined) speak well.

The trouble is that he tries to live up to an idealized image. That image in a way is a potpourri, picked up from his readers, even other books, the culture in general. He thinks that ideally he should want to be a public person, to give and enjoy giving interviews to the press or television, that he should (underlined) carry our message out into the world, have sessions on television so that people can see how I operate (with amused emphasis). If he were not frightened, it seems to him that is what he would and should do.

(Pause at 10:35.) He also feels he should (underlined) be able to display at least enough healing ability to help those in dire straits (pause), and he expects himself to display such a deep understanding and compassion for the world and its people that any divergence from such an attitude seems to make him appear more inferior by contrast. In that regard, tell him that my own fine tempered consideration of men’s foibles is somewhat easier to come by, since I do not deal with them daily. He feels pressured, therefore, to become a public person, forgetting his own background and temperament.

He thinks that that background and temperament should no longer apply. That is, if once he disliked crowds, a new purpose and understanding should let him rise above such nonsense—but there has always been a kind of singularity there (long pause)—a characteristic need to go his own way. This does not mean that he has no need for expression. Small groups are one thing, large ones something else. The private context was the home, when you had classes. He likes encounters with other people, naturally, but he does not like crowds nor speaking to a kind of mass mind, directly encountered.

Ruburt should do some small amount of writing each day—for his own pleasure and expression. It is disconnected from ideas of publishing, though later it may be published. (Pause.) The responsibility for each person’s life lies with that person. That (underlined) is one of our main messages. The books offer their own continuing educational process for people to follow if they choose, and the process of self-discovery is one of the most valuable aspects of such growth. So Ruburt is not to be taken in by people who come here or write, expecting him to solve their problems in the flesh, or expecting me to do it. Nor is he obligated to answer mail.

A note: Ruburt’s discomfort is indeed aggravated by fears. This I mentioned in particular some time ago (long pause). He feels he is facing the nitty-gritty, determined for a way out, yet still at times he is afraid the worst possibilities will occur instead, and he is suspicious of changes in the body unless they are of obvious improvements. You have been of considerable help, assuring him that he is indeed protected, and he has been making strides there himself.