“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(See the copy attached of my dream of this morning. To my surprise the dream led to this session. I typed it as soon as I got up, and Jane read it at the breakfast table. As we discussed the dream I began to make connections on my own about my early days in NY City with Ralph Ramstad, as well as about commercial art, my parents, doing illustration, and so forth. I explained these items to Jane in some detail.

(All of that naturally led Jane and me into talking about our own experiences in NYC after our marriage. We went over a lot of ground, and it seemed to have very beneficial, even therapeutic effects for Jane. I kept recalling things about those times, and so did she as the morning passed.

(“Synchronicity” also seemed to be involved with the dream, for in today’s paper I found myself reading a column in the sports section, concerning knee injuries —and this in turn triggered my remembering that Ralph Ramstad had a “trick knee,” as he used to call it, the result I believe of a childhood accident. And following those two connections, I speculated with Jane about a third: my hurting the lower left ribs about a week ago during the visit of Tom D’Orio and friends. Frank Longwell told me I’d strained the ligaments helping to support the ribs, and that “they don’t like that.” Most uncomfortable, even at times in bed. The seemingly innocuous injury, which hasn’t even left a black-and-blue sign, is quite painful at times and most inconvenient in regards to various bodily functions involving any sudden movements, as in sneezing, etc.

(The pendulum told me I hurt the rib cage over my frustration at the visit of Tom and friends, although I wasn’t conscious of any such feelings. Jane also enjoyed it, and we took Tom’s address with a view to inviting he and wife Becky some Friday evening.

(But the dream, innocuous as it seemed to be, carried a big charge. I was amazed that Jane picked up so well on it, and that her insights extended to herself and the symptoms in ways that hadn’t occurred to me. I’d even thought of not bothering to write down the dream in the first place.

(“I don’t know whether you’re going to get it from me or Seth,” Jane said at 3:05 PM. “Earlier I felt the stuff around from Seth, but also from me too,” she said. “But I don’t know. I’ll let you know....” Then at 3:10: “I guess you’re gonna get a session after all. I feel him around, but it won’t be too long.” I made her coffee, and she sipped at it as we waited. The afternoon was dark, wet, and quiet. I was all for anything that could help her.

The service station is significant on many levels, being used here as a particularly American symbol of the mechanical age, and also one that refers to a pursuit that is utilitarian and also provides service (as Jane said this morning): You deal directly with the public. There are two main areas and issues that wind in and out of this dream, as in the other two: the idea of work and service in relation to the idea of art and creativity.

(“Can I ask a question?” I made the request even though I could see that Jane was ready to call it an evening.)

(4:12. Jane paused, lit a cigarette. It was still raining. The afternoon was quite dark and gloomy, the neighborhood very quiet.)

I may indeed dictate a new letter to you (as Jane said recently), to make our position clear, but Ruburt’s main position is not one of service: it must be one of pleasure and creativity. Pleasure and creativity automatically and spontaneously alter the world for the better, without methods and even without effort.

(4:23 PM. “That was very good,” I told Jane as she came out of trance. “I can’t wait to go over it because it seems to contain stuff that will be helpful to you.”

(I added that I thought I was already doing, at least to some extent, what Seth advocated in the session—throwing away any sense of responsibility or financial reward in painting, at this time at least. I trusted that whatever might result from the painting would be beneficial in various ways, possibly including the financial if the need arose. I explained to Jane that I’d reached the point in the last year where I just couldn’t let anything interfere with the act of painting itself—and that I thought she needed an attitude like that in regard to her own work very badly. I could have said [in retrospect] that my attitude stemmed at least to a large degree from my watching her struggle with her own hang-ups. Not that I didn’t think I’d reach it on my own anyhow.

(Jane agreed.)