“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(3:30. Jane suggested she could have a session, then would try for some exercises. Earlier in the afternoon I’d described my very vivid dream of last night, and asked that Seth comment on it if he came through: I’d found myself in a large studio, painting like mad on large canvases. Like Rembrandt had, I was painting portraits and full-figure compositions on very large canvases—even over ten feet square, say. My brush moved over the surface, modeling heads and likenesses, and ideas, with amazing facility. I reveled in my power and ability. I knew I’d attained this great freedom after years of being too cautious and inhibited. I’d broken free and was now enjoying marvelous and penetrating creativity. At last I knew what it was like to be a great painter, and I loved it. At least some of the portraits reminded me of Rembrandt’s work, in the dream.

(In the second part of the dream, I was confronting the youngish director of a funeral parlor—this after I’d made my exciting breakthrough into complete mastery and control, yet freedom, as an artist. The dark-haired young man was trying to talk me into displaying some of my smaller paintings in the room in his funeral home where guests were seated for viewings, etc. I was very skeptical. I wanted the paintings to be priced so people might buy them, but he said that wouldn’t be proper in a funeral home. I replied that his policy meant people would think the paintings were his, and not for sale. He hemmed and hawed, as they say, but finally I told him to forget the whole business. I wasn’t about to let my art be compromised for any reason.

(I told Jane now that in my younger days I’d done almost the same thing, of course, letting others take paintings for which I was never paid. I described a couple of instances we were both familiar with. The events were my own fault, of course, for I hadn’t known enough to take a firm stand and reclaim my own work. But I’d never do that again, even in this reality. I told Jane the dream had awakened strong urges in me to start painting in just that manner—and I knew that I could carry on just that way. I want to do so very badly, so I’m trusting that the way will be shown. I can sense that freedom.

There was some disorientation on Ruburt’s part because of the unaccustomed motion, but he handled that well. (The crying.) His arms also showed additional freedom—and in many instances portions of his body moved with the same kind of ease that you experienced in your dream of last evening, as you painted the large portraits—

I may or may not return, according to those rhythms of which I speak—those same rhythms that motivated the ease of your paintings in your dream. But in any case, I am present and approachable.