“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

What he wrote was pertinent. He has been holding back energy for the reasons given. [...] Before, he would not accept the challenge. To go fully ahead he had to cease cowering before the beliefs of the past, and this meant he had to examine those beliefs. He is only now beginning to do so.

The trust is accepted, however, because he is finally ready to work through the issues. [...] He is challenging, finally, the old beliefs that say that the self’s spontaneity is not to be trusted. He is challenging those ideas emotionally and philosophically, uniting then physical action and inner mobility. In the past he was still afraid to touch those beliefs with any but the slightest of hands.

[...] All of the writing he did today was important. He is preparing to go ahead in all directions.

[...] He had to find the courage to encounter those old beliefs boldly, and he is finally doing so. [...]

(10:14.) He was too spiritually violent for the socialists or the communists. He was too socialistically inclined by far for the establishment, and when he turned finally to the land, it was a proud and yet defiant retreat. He would show how the individual could operate as divorced as possible from government. He was an esthetic in workingman’s clothes, despite himself, espousing the old Protestant virtues of diligence, hard work, and no nonsense and no frills.

Nearing had turned away from such goods and products, yet he had in his earlier years thought that these if were only distributed equally the world would be changed for the better. He is a symbol of the frontier spirit, and many youngsters through the years have been helped through his efforts. He began to understand, however, that more could be offered, that the inner realities of mind, in some fashion, caused the exterior realities of experience. He wanted to meet Ruburt to make sure that someone was embarked upon that search. [...] And in his own fashion, he passed on some energy to Ruburt as a gift to help him in that endeavor. [...]

Nearing then wondered how democracy could operate, when—as he saw it then—capitalism kept the poor poor, and added to the gains of the wealthy. He grew sore with the worker’s plight, and felt that thoughts of art, spiritual merit, or pretensions were meaningless if men were ill-fed. Therefore, he turned his efforts to bettering his fellow man’s physical state. He butted his head against the government. [...]

These were all exterior versions of his inner spiritual journeys, for he now looked to nature for support, sustenance, and strength. He looked to nature’s virtues. It was not greedy, nor would he be. He revived within himself, and within others, the American pioneering spirit, with its distrust of government, its individualism, and its eccentrics.

[...] 1. Since he is presumably dead by now, what does Dr. Instream think about psychic phenomena? Does he remember Jane, etc? [...] What does that individual now think about psychic phenomena: Does he remember Jane, etc? Has he heard of her? Why did I get to talking with him in the conference room on campus, then take him to our room, where he proceeded to so upset Jane?

[...] The dream told him that he had agreed to deaden himself to a certain extent, and that he did not think deadening yourself would be painful. He would just slow everything down. He was confronting the part of himself that decided upon the course to which the other part agreed, while you stood by, watching. He discovered that trying to deaden yourself is quite painful.

When Ruburt becomes consciously aware of those results, then he is inspired. That is, he encounters a fresh flow of new perceptions, or of perceptions suddenly appearing in an original manner, so that he is seized with energy, and has merely then to let the intuitive information flow. That is the way he operates. [...]

[...] Today he felt like acting actively with “Unknown.” [...] He began thinking in terms of what he could do, so that now we see that he is not only physically desiring to do more, and trying it, but also mentally stimulated, and with a new sense of purpose as far as “Unknown” is concerned, and a desire reawakened to play with Seven.

Now he has felt that if the “authority,” the people, do not like what he says, then they will not buy his books, and deny him that “welfare.” At the same time he has been determined to go ahead. Instead of the people giving him handouts as a child, where he had to be careful of what he did and said, he saw them as contributing to his welfare through buying his books, and if he went too far and offended them, they would stop.

[...] He has done his thing, but fearfully. Only lately has he realized that he has no respect for any of the authorities, as they call him or write him, or approach him. As with today’s psychologist, he sees that in many ways they know far less than he, and are looking to him for help and direction. These are the people, he suddenly sees, that so frightened him.

Until lately he idealized authority on the one hand, and was frightened of it on the other. Only when he realized that there was no authority in those terms could he begin to let down his guard.

Now because of these feelings he was afraid of setting himself up as a new authority for people to follow blindly. This problem also vanishes when he realizes, as he does, that there literally are no authorities. [...]

In a way his progress has been dependent upon the state of his learning, so that he has been trying to stretch the abilities of normal consciousness by drawing in other “strands.” Yet because he was the one so involved, he had to test each strand, and in the meantime he still had his “old” consciousness, with its habits, to contend with.

I will tell you, he has begun to regenerate his gums. He has kept that tooth (pointing) in his mouth for six months. It wobbles when he talks, and has for that amount of time. He has a good chance, now, of keeping it.

[...] Obviously he is in the middle of a learning adventure, trying to do far more with his ordinary consciousness than most people, and trying to solve his problems and encounter his challenges without relying upon old structures of belief—healthwise not relying upon doctors or dentists. He has done this even though he has been working in relatively untried areas, where there seem to be few certainties.

[...] He wants to—a change far more important then you realize. He needs, again, however, the assurance that he can do far better physically.

Realizing that, he made considerable efforts to change his attitudes and beliefs. [...] He does not feel that he is involved alone, as he did before: the fanatics, for example, are everywhere—quite visible, and if they might find his work offensive, he is hardly alone. He has, therefore, been involved in the nitty-gritty. This means that he has been encountering his own beliefs, arguing with them—changing them at very elemental levels. [...]

Years ago, when the Gallery of Silence people began to bug him, he felt threatened, afraid that he would become the brunt of fanatics or extremists. He was nevertheless determined to take some kind of a public stand—for not to do so would mean not to express himself through his books at all. He knew he would never give into that course, but he felt that some of that dates back to childhood habits and beliefs, when his very food and bed was given him by the auspices of the public. [...]

The information in Mass Events and in our sessions helped him use impulses to a far better degree than he had before, and helped him keep some balance, let him advance in understanding despite the period of difficulty. Still at various times and throughout the period, he used what he thought of as that additional protection: the symptoms kept him inside, where it seemed he could indeed express himself with the least duress. At the same time he was learning that expression denied at one level means expression denied to some extent at all levels (louder)—so that of course his creative work also suffered to some degree. [...]

(10:05.) He would not stop expressing himself, but immediately felt he needed greater protection. To some extent he doubted his own vision—see the connection with his eye difficulty. Despite this he went on with some considerable courage, determination and vigor in my book and his own to encounter the nitty-gritty, so to speak, to bring out the issues clearly to himself and to the world. [...]

He is loyal to your family. He tries to help them, and he tried to deal with his own responses. He tried to rouse William’s intellect and intuitions, but to his utter amazement he found both more dormant than he had expected. [...]

[...] He considers studying dreams feminine, and to paint pictures of them presents a second mystery (intently). His own buried intuitional abilities, however, have always acted as a bridge between you, so that he feels a close affinity that he does not understand. He feels some affinity to Ruburt for the same reason, but Ruburt also upsets him, because he disapproves of women who think, and is very frightened because Ida in later years has started to criticize some of their joint beliefs.

He is in a period where he is trying to release impulses, but one look at that situation—momentarily, now—panicked him, so that he began to wonder if any discipline was not worthwhile to prevent what he considered that kind of intuitional and intellectual sloth.

(Pause at 10:06.) He squashed what intuitive abilities he had, and finally considered, for example, poetry unmanly. [...] He wanted children to be frightened of him, for this proved that he was indeed superior, and not given to emotional outbursts.

[...] He was looking for answers, and young: he looked in any direction. He was not particularly discriminating. He was also not rigid in his ideas, however, and sensed the importance of the material, and as a young editor impressed his boss by his own enthusiasm. He learned as the book progressed, and he did stand up for the book to the best of his ability at the time.

He does look for miracles. He does listen hopefully to each voice, but he is no fool. He is going places. Ruburt is deeply loyal to him, and he is to Ruburt. [...] He has not had (underlined) to fight for a book in strong terms, but his energy and belief helped it greatly at Prentice, and was transmitted to the salesmen. [...]

[...] He was doing very well in having to deal with such distractions when you commented about the reincarnational material. He took this as a rebuke. You wanted the session to go more clearly in that direction, and he wondered if he had been blocking.

[...] He will continue to be a celebrity. He will also have some storms to weather. He is deeply loyal, even more to ideas than to people, particularly when his need for freedom is respected. He will be of great help to Ruburt, and in advancing our work.

(Pause.) These sessions themselves involve the highest levels of creative productivity, at many, many levels, so he should refresh himself painting or doing whatever he likes, for that refreshment adds to his creativity, of course. He will finish his book (God of Jane), and do beautifully with it. He should follow the rhythms of his own creativity without being overly concerned with the time. [...]

[...] He has been doing very well, and he tried to approve, but since he lost work time yesterday his approval barely went skin deep (louder).

When you mentioned his ink sketches, he instantly wanted to play at painting again, but felt, guiltily, that he should not. He forgot, once again, that the creative self is aware of his entire life, and that his impulses have a creative purpose. [...]

Because he did not approve of his own relaxation, he put brakes upon it.

He resolved that he would refrain from such projections for the evening, and he did. This required initially some considerable effort, but once he decided upon this a mechanism took over so that for a while he behaved almost automatically in the new manner, as before he had behaved almost automatically in the old way. Your remark therefore operated as an excellent suggestion, that he desist from such activity.

[...] He should not feel worried about using it, or being dependent upon it. [...] He knows he can write. He would not think of beginning a book by saying “I cannot write a book.” He has been convinced, however, that he could not walk properly, and so we had to work in that context. [...] We have concentrated upon the fact that he could walk better, then, and that the body could improve itself —as indeed of course in that context it can, and does.

[...] Last evening, however, he became involved in a round of such projections, which operate, of course, as negative suggestions. When he voiced some of these you immediately told him that he was doing so. Previously this round of projections had been almost automatic—that is, he did not catch himself at it, but accepted the worries as worries, without seeing that the situations might or might not occur.

[...] He gave himself a time period that he knew he could reasonably handle. [...] Ruburt can, however, each day tell himself that for that day he will try to avoid such negative projection. [...]

He does indeed often speak without thinking, and when he does he often influences people most. Now he must trust himself to move physically without thinking, and as much as possible to let his body act in a spontaneous way. [...] This does not mean he should ignore discomfort particularly, but he should take his conscious mind away from his physical body and let it operate alone.

[...] He must now push himself to physical activity, into vigorous action, and in doing so he is expressing the inner decision that he will no longer tamper with intuitional spontaneity. He has learned what happens when he does, and he has unlearned the false and distorted lesson that was put upon him in his early years.

And I repeat, he should indeed stay away from spiritualistic literature. [...] He knows intuitively what he knows. Intellectually he will catch up with this. [...]

He will have finally learned intellectually and consciously, that he need not fear the spontaneous self, which has always been his strength, for it sustains him. He was made to deeply fear it, and it was a strong, dominant part of his personality. The psychic work made him fear that he had allowed it to go too far.

Man, for example, trusts himself much more when he says ‘I will read,’ and then he reads, than he does when he says, ‘I will see,’ and then he sees. He remembers having learned to read, but he does not remember having learned to see, and what he cannot consciously remember, he fears.

He says, ‘I breathe, but who breathes, since consciously I cannot tell myself to breathe or not to breathe?’ He says, ‘I dream. [...] I cannot tell myself to dream or not to dream.’ He cuts himself in half and then wonders why he is not whole. Man has admitted only those things he could see, smell, touch or hear; and in so doing, he could only appreciate half of himself. And when I say half, I exaggerate; he is aware of only a third of himself.

[...] He uses emotional inflections delivering the material that greatly add to the meaning of the words themselves, however, and he may have had this in mind. Words really come to life as he speaks them.)

[...] Unless he uses the inner senses, he may lose whatever he has gained. [...]

[...] He does not need to fear the sudden release of the spontaneous self. (Jane pointed at me for emphasis.)He knows it is being released. He knows he is releasing it. But he has been afraid of releasing it suddenly, for fear it would engulf him. [...] (Leans forward.) It is the main reason he still has symptoms. [...]

In his case he made alterations that severely prevented expression of spontaneity, in physical movement. [...] When he realizes, and you can help him, that he is indeed safe, only when he trusts his spontaneity, then he will be free.

He is in the process of freeing himself, but the assurances from you can quicken the process considerably. The working schedule will help also, for as he sees the product of his spontaneity, he knows he can trust it. [...]

[...] In the past he did not want to accept his spontaneous nature because he felt he was not sufficiently disciplined or strong enough to control it, and he did not want to accept the responsibility for it.

[...] He knows of your hypothetical existence. He believes he has such a probable self, and is endeavoring to visit this probable universe. He has no idea however that you might be told of his visits, or that you might be planning to meet him. He has been working on the drug himself along with two others. [...]

He is a man of some psychological insights also, and he is like you enough so that he can understand many of your attitudes easily, and unlike you enough so that he can see you much more clearly. [...]

[...] He is working from the medical principles you see. This is a very loose analogy, but he is hoping to shoot himself toward you like an arrow, hoping that those correspondences that he suspects will help draw him to you. He has made some errors, and your receptive state of mind will give him more leeway.

You may be interested in hearing some information about him, for he is working with art, painting, in terms of therapy. He is not only working with patients and using art as a therapy for them, not only having them paint as therapy, you see, but he is also working on the idea that some paintings in themselves have a healing effect. [...]

He feels that you have not tried to make a success of your art, but have used excuses while blaming him for using excuses; that he tries desperately to sell his books, while you will not lift a finger to sell your paintings; that if he waited until he did his best work, he would never have sold a thing.

He feels that you are not satisfied with your work, and so will not try to sell it in the marketplace, while he must sell his work in the marketplace. [...] On one level he would not care, if only he felt you were really (underlined) painting what you wanted, and pleased with it; but you do not seem pleased.

He feels highly disloyal facing any of these thoughts, mainly because he does not want to hurt someone he loves so deeply—the only person in fact he loves in the world.

[...] Ruburt is faced with the fact that he is afraid to eat. He is ashamed because at one level he begrudges the food you eat, so he will not eat to punish himself.

He believed that he was. He was one of those deluded, but he also himself believed that he, not the historical Christ, was to fulfill the prophecies.

Now: He knew that without the wounds, they would not believe he was himself, because they were so convinced that he died with those wounds. (See John 20.) They were to be a method of identification, to be dispensed with when he explained the true circumstances.

The plea, “Peter, why hast thou forsaken me?” came from the man who believed he was Christ — the drugged version. [...] He knew of the conspiracy, and feared that the real Christ would be captured. Therefore he handed over to the authorities a man known to be a self-styled messiah — to save, not destroy, the life of the historical Christ.

(10:10.) In the Last Supper when Christ said, “This is my body, and this is my blood,” He meant to show that the spirit was within all matter, interconnected, and yet apart — that his own spirit was independent of his body, and also in his own way to hint that he should no longer be identified with his body. For he knew the dead body would not be his own.

[...] He believed that he was utterly powerless as an individual, that despite all his efforts he would come to nothing, go unnoticed. He felt completely unloved. He did not feel worthy of love. At the same time he let his conscious mind wander, and to compensate saw himself as all-powerful, contemptuous of his fellow human beings, and able to work greater vengeance upon them for their misunderstanding of him. In this line of beliefs he was able to do anything — cure mankind’s ills if he chose, or withhold such knowledge from the world to punish it. [...]

[...] Before, he was physically powerful when he was Augustus Two, and weak when he was Augustus One. Now as Augustus he is alternately strong and weak, and the body stresses are apparent. As Augustus Two he could stay up night and day and perform physical tasks quite difficult for the normal human being to do, for he operated under the indivisible idea of power and strength.

[...] Augustus Two believes that he is an alien. In this case the rationale — because there must be one — is that he is a being from another planet, in fact from another galaxy. His purpose in this case is quite clear and simple: He is to help Augustus One, to use his power on the latter’s behalf, rewarding his friends and terrifying his enemies. Augustus One quite deeply believes he needs this kind of help.

[...] He looks out for me.” Another neighbor has ulcers, and Augustus told Ruburt that after he touched this neighbor the ulcers seemed to have been healed. So he said, “I would like to know how much of this great ability belongs to me.” [...] Now this was definitely to the good, in that Augustus was beginning to feel that perhaps he was not powerless. [...]

He realizes that freedom is within him. He did not understand that before. He realizes he does not need the symptoms, and is in the process of losing them. He must want freedom as strongly as before he wanted to repress it, and this is in the direction in which he is now moving.

While certain stages are occurring there may be an uneven quality, but not necessarily, where he walks much better one day and not another, until the entire system is aligned, when of course the improvements will be held. [...] I mentioned this only so that he understands, and is not disappointed if one day he does exceptionally well, and the next day does not seem to do as well. [...]

As long as he trusts the body’s improvement, he is better off to concentrate upon his poetry, Aspects, and other areas of his life, and to enjoy increasing physical activity. The body can repair itself now quite well if he lets it go its way. [...]

Ruburt must still go on to some deeper realizations, and he is on the way. [...] He understands this now. He is allowing himself freedom by degrees, letting down repressions one by one.

There was a recording he made with In a Gadda Da Vida in which suggestions were given. This was of help, and I suggest he use it. When he feels he is in a bind, he should admit it and tell you. [...]

He feels that he unjustly puts you on the spot, now. Quite rightly, he does not want you to have to double-think before you speak. He repressed the emotions (underlined) in an effort to show improvement.

[...] When he feels that way it would be of great help if he simply cried alone, or went to you for comfort. He thinks of it as an admission of weakness. [...]

He felt emotional displays on his part would make you cast him in the same light as your mother. Her tears put you on the defensive, he felt. He even felt you considered tears contemptible.

[...] For the record: Tuesday last, Alan Neuman called Jane to tell her that he had decided to make a movie of Seven himself, instead of trying to interest others in doing so. Presumably this means he will try to arrange financing, etc. He told Jane a lot of technical and legal details she didn’t very well understand, but he is certainly sincere, she thinks, about Seven. He told Jane that he would have some news for her “within a month”—which would be fast service indeed. He stressed that he wanted Jane to have good legal protection, and a say in quality control. [...]

[...] Even when he brings the chair into the bathroom, he must for example get up and down. More, however, on some days he will feel actively like walking, and then he should do so, and even in a day when he does have difficulty, there will almost certainly be some periods when he will feel the same urge. [...]

[...] Ruburt will be relieved, and quite joyous, when he does start up his active writing again. The most important thing, however, is that he trust and follow his impulses. The three-hour period may include painting if he prefers. [...] The feeling of creative pleasure as he paints, and follows the impulse, relieves his mind, takes it off his body, and automatically regenerates other creative impulses. He will go through several paintings and then tire of the activity, and want to write.

He received excellent ideas the other night, for Seven, after painting all day. [...] At times now he will feel conflicts, because he wants to do several things at once. But a month or so ago he did not feel those desires.