2 results for (book:ur1 AND session:680 AND stemmed:who)
Linden
selves
inventor
birth
hysterectomy
(11:02.) Give us a moment … I told you (in the last session) that in one probability Ruburt was a nun, expressing mysticism in a highly disciplined context, where it must be watched so that it does not get out of hand. Because there is an unconscious flow of information and experience here, you have one of the reasons for Ruburt’s caution in some psychic matters, and his fear of leading people astray. There were three offshoots: one, the nun, with mysticism conventionally expressed, but under guarded circumstances; one, the writer who veiled mystical experience through art; and one, the Ruburt you know, who experienced mystical experience directly, teaches others to do the same, and forms through writing a wedding of the two aspects. You have known two of those selves, then, and you were present at Ruburt’s birth with Idea Construction.
In another system of reality your father was — in fact, still is — a well-known inventor, who never married but used his mechanically creative abilities to the fullest while avoiding emotional commitment. He met Stella (my mother). They were going to be married — and in terms of years, the same years are involved, historically. At one time, then, in your father’s past as you think of it, having met Stella, he did not marry her after all. His love was for machinery, the speed of motorcycles, mixing creativity with metal. At that point of intersection, equal desires and intents within him became like twin nuclei. Whole regroupings of energy occurred, psychological and psychic implosions, so that two equally valid personalities were aware in a world in which only one could live at a time.
There were other connections, seemingly trivial yet pertinent. You enjoyed doing comics with outdoor scenes: animals in motion, the body performing. As an audience watches a sportsman perform, so those who read the comics watched your characters perform in action across the page. All hidden patterns, yet each one making sense. I will go into the birth of Joseph. Now, however a word to Ruburt.
I do know a deeper compassion for my parents now than I did when they were alive. To paraphrase a remark one of my brothers made recently, I miss them in ways I couldn’t have anticipated before their deaths. Each of them died at the age of 81 — my father in 1971, my mother in 1973. For those who are interested, I drew a likeness of my father for one of my pen-and-ink illustrations in Jane’s Dialogues, and incorporated an image of my mother in another one. See pages 89 and 137 of that book.