“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(All emphatically and joyously:) In your terms, the world is intensely different from one moment to another, with each smallest portion of consciousness choosing its reality from a field of infinite probabilities.³ Immense calculations, far beyond your conscious decisions as you think of them, are possible only because of the unutterable freedom that resides within minute worlds inside your skull — patterns of interrelationships, counterparts so cunningly woven that each is unique, freewheeling, and involved in an infinite cooperative venture so powerful that the atoms stay in certain forms, and the same stars shine in the sky.

The familiar and strange are intimately connected in your most obvious, your simplest utterance. You are surrounded by miracles. Why, then, does the world so often seem dour and cruel? Why do your fellow beings sometimes seem like unfeeling monsters — (loudly:) Frankensteins not of body but of mind, spiritual idiots, ignorant of any heritage of love or truth or even graceful beasthood? Why does it seem to many of you that the race, the species, is doomed? (Whispering:) Why do some of you feel, in your quiet moments, such a sentence just?⁴

The petty wars, even those still to be fought, are but dim memories, once vital but lost as nightmares in greater awakenings. So even in this moment Ruburt faintly feels a nostalgic memory for lives come and gone, as you might for fond dreams barely recalled.

They represent a present unique beyond telling, alive in each consciousness, more important than you recognize. There are no real rules to be followed that will bring you into such an encounter with the present moment of reality — only a trust in the nature of your being. And that trust is within you whether or not you recognize it, for it gives you your present experience; and no matter how your mind questions, it rides securely in the great creativity of the soul.