“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

It does involve his own private experience, opening up to himself, freeing the flow of his energy. There are several ways this can be done. It is his freely allowed subjective experience now that results in books—mine, and Seven’s. He has set up barriers however against his own personal inner mobility. It is extremely important that he become more permissive, particularly in the dream state, and to change his attitude about dreaming, to go along with his experience and forget how he can make it understandable to others.

He normally and naturally awakens often in the early hours, and does not get up because his body is too sore, in his terms, but he spontaneously feels an alliance with himself and those hours, and intuitively knows that his creative abilities are strong then, and his dream recall good.

I want him to come over here (to the living room), make his coffee or whatever, be alone with himself and follow his impulses—to write or whatever, and to recall his dream experiences. You must let him know that you do trust him and his spontaneity, because before, no matter what you said, he knew that to some degree you wanted brakes applied.

In whatever level of activity he focused his energy, his activities would be strong, exaggerated in terms of others by comparison. He is a great mystic. Naturally, that is, a great mystic. And that is reflected through his poetry as well as our specific work. So that expression would come through poetry also with its “psychedelic” experience, regardless of our specific sessions.

His symptoms have been a fear of growth on the one hand, and on the other a way of effecting growth with safety, according to his beliefs. This session alone will help, as will his emotional recognition of his feelings, and your and his acceptance of their validity in their own realm. [...] His book analogy is an excellent one—he will tell you. [...]

[...] It is when he is on his own, so to speak, that he is worried. He does not have to be on his own, however. That separation was the result of his beliefs. For that matter, you look out for him in his out-of-body travels. [...]

[...] He knew that the stability of his personality was highly important. I emerged as a result of those abilities of his, in his terms; therefore what I said had to be questioned even while I was permitted to speak.

His psychic experience has grown and expanded, yet all the while controls were used. [...] They also kept him from what he considered spiritual betrayals: he would not be a television personality, using his great powers of persuasion, until he knew what he was persuading people to do. [...] In his terms he felt alone, in that he felt he was upsetting all known knowledge, and without training working in the unknown. [...]

[...] His last experience in sitting in a yard with any regularity happened many years ago. He recalls a photo of his mother in the backyard when he was about seven. [...] His mother visited chiropractors, osteopaths, and he knows it. This gives rise to a suggestibility that should be taken into consideration in any visits of his own.

It is this basic feeling about the book and Saratoga that suddenly activated past associations and brought on some identification with his mother. [...] The book itself, oddly enough, provides a certain protection for it informs others of his basic strength. It shocked him to know that people of the past were reading the book in his present, and seemed to draw him closer to those original associations that caused him to leave Saratoga.

The clothing sent by his mother has been somewhat dangerous to him because his feelings, given above, automatically extracted from them the negative feelings of his mother toward him, while blocking out the constructive and loving ones.

[...] Added to this was what he felt to be the need to find employment, and the hope that his writing could be his livelihood. This has a connection with his grandfather that I will mention later.

When that challenge was met he used his will and mobilized all of his power to fulfill his abilities, and to bring about conditions in which he hoped Joseph could also fulfill his. [...] Ruburt always concentrated in his own way upon one challenge at a time, boring in, so to speak, and ignoring anything else that might distract him.

Ruburt directed his will in certain areas. [...] Ruburt used his will to solve one challenge: he was determined to find the kind of mate that would best suit him, and his own unique characteristics. That intent was in his mind.

To his way of thinking he cut out all excess baggage, so he had a spare diet, physically speaking. [...] The power of his will said “We are not ready yet. We are still working on one challenge,” so it seemed, finally, that he was powerless or helpless to alter the rigidity of his body.

[...] Ruburt with his practical mind interpreted this more literally than you, and physical restriction was a part of his natural early environment, as it was not in yours. [...] This was a natural result of his method.

[...] Ruburt must see his existence as arising from the natural cycle of his mother’s reality and his own—two different things but connected. He did not cause his mother’s illness by his birth. Her attitudes toward Ruburt’s birth belonged to his mother, and those attitudes of his mother were far more important than Ruburt’s birth.

(11:47 PM.) Tell Ruburt not to waste time crying over his mistakes. Remind him of the ways he has used his body well, and help him change his beliefs about it. [...]

[...] He was afraid of the cat, considering him wild and caged originally, as his mother had been in his interpretation, so he felt forced to help the cat (who did not have any love for him), as he felt before he had to help his mother—who would kill him if she had the chance.

[...] He was not a passive receptor however, the cat, and he even learned from his encounters with Jack Wall. Many of Ruburt’s feelings about his mother however are buried in Rooney’s grave. (Very important.) Rooney however is free of a distrust that he had carried with him, having to do with his background in that house, this time, across the way, and was grateful for those additional years you gave him.

[...] The word “high” is important, for art, his art—writing, poetry—was his version of, say, the high mass of his childhood, where he and not the priest was in connection with the universe. By a kind of shorthand, the art gallery suggests the church, then, and his dedication to art, that is, to his art quickly replaced his dedication to the church. It became his vocation in quite religious terms.

Timewise and symbolically, the third scene brings us to the point where Ruburt is determined to defend his art, his dedication, to such an extent that he hides from the world, and symbolically crawls on his belly, all the while seeking to escape the dilemma by finding an open door, or by hiding from pursuers in the shadows. [...] One portion of himself is a character, male, with bound hands, and Ruburt must help this person over barriers, of course because his hands are tied symbolically behind his back.

He began to question as he awakened his motives for such frantic behavior. The dream gave him three scenes representing various areas of his life in terms of time—the institution of the gallery and his early ideas, the office representing the world, and his hiding place, which was a kind of storage barn. [...]

His other dreams, of the walking series (pause), are giving him practical physical education, for the muscles remember their proper motions, and these dreams help counteract his waking belief that it is difficult to walk. [...] The dreams themselves have contributed to Ruburt’s relative compliance with growing bodily relaxation, and with his growing trust in his own impulses.

To use his abilities freely and fully might therefore mean success, money, and sexual license. Your own ideas about money and success of course influenced his beliefs: your combined ideas now of virtuousness and thrift, as opposed to license. Ruburt therefore put himself in a position—as he knows, now—where he focused most of his spontaneity and attention on his work to insure its fulfillment, while cutting out all other distractions and possibilities of misuse or license.

[...] The belief was generated in his childhood, but it was always the underside of the opposite belief in his abilities. If he had not trusted his abilities so much in his particular way, he could not have felt the other freely-spontaneous portions so threatening. [...]

[...] His mother’s death, the fact that you left your job, and his own growing understanding released him first in financial terms, because of an always latent knowledge and belief in the reality of abundance—his father did have abundance even while Ruburt believed in poverty as a child.

He had for example a strong positive belief in his own abilities, energy and power. He believed he could not only develop his abilities and bring them to fruition, but also help others.

(11:30.) The condition becomes more worrisome because it now bears the brunt of an unspoken or unexpressed love that is hidden behind his conscious attitude and behavior toward his father. Frank’s father himself was afraid of showing unseeming love, in his terms, toward his family. Frank avoided that kind of behavior with his children, but did not fully surmount the pattern as far as his own father was concerned.

[...] This carried over into the writing, and comes to the forefront now because of his father’s condition. He wanted to express love for his father as a child far more openly than he felt his father would allow. He felt that his father would consider such demonstrations not masculine.

Have him read over my sessions again, to remind himself that his abilities spring from Framework 2, and do not need such overprotection. It does not help, and it definitely hinders his creativity, that he so misguidedly tries to protect. [...] He must allow himself the freedom of his being, and from that freedom his work will further develop. [...]

When he learned to write, he thought of writing to express such thoughts, and was always tempted to use writing as an expression of those subjective feelings he felt were forbidden—not just directed toward his father, but feelings of which he felt his father would disapprove. [...]

[...] The intellectual doubters could identify with his doubts, and yet be inspired by his freedom. Those who were led by their hopes into gullibility could relate to his experiences—yet he would pull them back to “sanity” by his doubts. At the same time he would be expressing the unreconciled portions of his own nature.

[...] In his case, however, much of this had to do with quite normal reactions—not voiced or expressed. When in the beginning you were cautious, and worried about his overdoing it, or going into trance at the drop of a hat, he relied upon you in that way. When your enthusiasm grew, and your trust in his abilities, then he felt that to voice any fears at all in your eyes meant that he did not trust his abilities himself.

[...] Tell him that I can be trusted to monitor any and all of his experiences of a psychic nature. Whenever a fear spontaneously comes into his mind about his work, he should voice it to you. [...]

[...] There is no way out of it except for him to allow himself the freedom of his being. [...] Assure him that you will not only approve his spontaneity in all areas, but also check his activities and monitor them. [...]

He does feel a strong responsibility to hold his own financially. [...] Ruburt hoped his talent would bring him some kind of magical translation of his father’s supposed wealth. [...]

The improvements do show that his beliefs are changing, and some of his anger today was simply energy that he has been withholding from himself for fear that it would not be correctly used. He is feeling impulses to go out for example for walks that he did not feel before, and be more physically active, while at the same time he does not yet feel able to perform to his satisfaction.

Ruburt’s insights, written in the margin of my book, about the correlations between his physical beliefs and his work beliefs, are correct, and important. Your affirmation that his body can perform better is also of great help, for those body beliefs also have to be tackled. [...]

[...] Out-of-bodies, writing and spontaneous impressions are all things he likes to do, but some fell inside his work category and some did not. [...] Then have him “work” with them, and use them to his advantage. But do not overdo it, as is his inclination at times when he thinks in terms of absolutes.

Your attitude has much to do with his improvement. He felt alone, this his fault, surely as much as yours, though no fault in those terms is meant. At his worse moments, he thought that he could not love a cripple, since he did not love his mother, so how could you.

[...] His loyalty to you is unswerving, as unfortunately many of his bitter attitudes toward those in his past are unswerving.

This will result in complete belief on his part, and this belief will enable us to achieve results denied us in the past. [...] He is now completely determined upon health, and the recovery will be remarkably fast, now that it has truly begun, simply because his released energies will now work at it with their accustomed vigor—only now for his benefit.

The releases in his personality could have been achieved in other, easier methods. [...] His rigidity of attitude resulted in a trend for self-destruction, tempered it is true, but dangerous. There was a resultant manufacture of various chemicals within his system that tended to reproduce and perpetuate the depressed state of mind. [...]

[...] He felt this also in his relationship with you—that he could serve you best by writing and cutting out all other activities. When he had his last series of excellent improvements, he paid attention to the sessions I gave him on his ideas of work. He cannot smother the person and cultivate the flower of his talent. What he had achieved as a writer and as a psychic has been achieved despite his methods—not because of them.

[...] An artist is free to use his ability as far as his person is free. [...] The writer’s or the artist’s intuitions, sensibilities, inspirations come through his person, through his experiences and temperament. [...]

He must see that the writer’s freedom and ability is dependent upon his being a free person. [...] Ruburt was trying to do double duty—protecting his abilities and your own. If he remembers his instinctive feeling for nature he will know that he belongs outside as well as inside.

Now because neither of you wanted children, his books were considered part of his wifely duty; substitutes, he felt, that were better than the originals. [...]

[...] “Slow down because you are going too fast,” (was) told him in his youth; he reactivated those ideas, interpreting them to mean that he must slow down in order to produce mature work. Naturally, left alone, his body and his mind both work fast, and there is nothing dangerous in that. He had been told he would burn himself out, so he came into his late 30’s and tried to slow down. [...] He can trust himself and his own rhythms however.

To some extent he still projects his illness into the future. Any help you can be results in reinforcing his attractiveness, and your belief in his ability to improve physically. [...] They are geared to his progress, and later a change of environment will be important simply because of the break-up of conditioning.

He has been using his will to put his body down. He must realize—and he does not yet—that the will can be just as effective in releasing his body. In reminding him of this you can also be of help, for he was afraid that his will was powerless in that regard.

Now on his part it was precisely that conflict that got him into difficulty, and that brought about the ideas of “work.” He became angry, and still is, when you show normal criticism of Prentice and their dealings with our books, or his, because he feels that you do not really understand how difficult it is to market creative work, and since you do not sell your paintings you should not criticize his admittedly worrisome efforts. [...]

[...] Tell him to leave his body alone with his conscious mind in the same way that he leaves a poem alone with his conscious mind when it is forming— to think of his body as a poem. [...]

I have told him that concentration on his work will dissipate the rest of his symptoms, but he adopted a too-conscious (underlined) deliberation here. He should write his book the same way that he writes his poetry—not demand of himself, but simply and quietly and joyfully expect.

He has actually been trying too hard on the dream book—his mental set. [...] His attitude has been “I have to start my dream book.” Tell him that his dream book will start itself if he leaves himself alone. The attitude has impeded his dream experiences also.

[...] Either the individual no longer trusts the purpose toward which his energy is being expended, or perhaps worse, he feels that there is no reason, or that he has no purpose, and does not know in which direction to turn his energy.

Because many of his ideas and beliefs were also bound up with you, your work, your ideas and his interpretations of them, then your relationship became entwined. Initially the beliefs were accepted because he had been taught to believe to fear his energy. On the other hand it was his pride. [...]

He also felt that you reacted to his improvement by feeling threatened yourself, that you disapproved of it. Two particular beliefs here: The party at Bega’s, and your “tirade” —his interpretation, about his dealing with Prentice on one particular occasion. For reference it is in his notebook.

[...] He had, as you mentioned, the inner knowledge of his own abilities that had, he felt, to be used. After his first marriage he determined, with the help of your love, to find a suitable framework. His natural abilities are unconventionally tuned, highly spontaneous, working through intuitive loops; in a certain way, now, from a normally conscious viewpoint, unpredictable.

These two events made him pull in his horns; or rather, his interpretation of them in the light of your relationship. He always felt now, and work this out yourselves, that you focused upon the most negative aspects of his condition, and ignored any improvement as minute. [...]

He is particularly susceptible along the lines of his work because he felt from childhood that his ability was the only thing that made him lovable at all in his mother’s eyes, and that his entire worth as a human being was dependent upon how he made out as a writer.

[...] The fear of dentists has to do with an episode when he was in college, and the dentist came to visit his mother. [...] His mother often said that her condition might have been the result of bad teeth also, and the two are connected in his mind.

[...] Not only did his book have to be good, you see, but financially successful since you loved him for his talents mainly, and the two were combined. With the financial elements added, then to retain your love his books must also sell well.

He is terrified of vulnerability because of his mother’s condition when he was a child. Many of his early poems clearly showed a desire to dissociate himself from the warm spontaneous self, and to hide in a nonfeeling uncaring safety. [...]

[...] His circulatory system was affected, and he had breathing difficulties. [...] To that point, he had believed that his thoughts had no effect upon his body. [...] Then his own inner resources came to his assistance.

He decided to trust his body for the first time in his life, and to trust his mind. Almost overnight, relatively speaking, his heart regenerated, and two years later he ran the 26-mile marathon.

There is the other side of the picture, for his new thoughts physically regenerated the body, or allowed it to regenerate itself. Overnight—almost—he managed to completely change his picture of himself—and all of the physical evidence that before had confirmed his condition vanished. The social weight of other people’s beliefs about him and his impending death, dissolved.

The contrasting color arrangement is a most healthy acceptance on his part of the spontaneous portion of his own personality. [...] He is not so afraid now of making mistakes, or of trusting his own judgment, though he thinks it might conflict with your ideas in any given case. Hence his painting the cupboards blue.

You will indeed have the opportunity to help this Peter at a very important time in his life, and his meeting with you will change the direction of his life; both inspire him and set him firmly and safely on his feet.

He should give notice to his Mr. Miller by August first, at the latest, if not earlier. He should expect to make his financial contribution through his classes, and to throw his energy into them, and be patient as he would if he had an outside job.

[...] He was terrified that his mother had died during the night when he was very young, and could not help him. She could not, you see, climb the stairs at his call. [...] In the deepest trouble he doubted your feeling for him also, and in exaggerated panic felt that you would feel released if he died, as he felt that he would feel released as an adolescent if his mother died. [...]

In your terms, early man felt his body to be a living, independent extension of the earth itself, and of the land. His head, to him, was like space or the sky. His feet were like moving roots. He believed that his feelings were like the world’s winds that swept through his body. To him, his spirit was inside his skin. [...]

Such a knowledge as you suggest in actuality would not have added to his comprehension of his body, for he comprehended it very well. It would not have added to his health for example either, for he listened to his body so acutely that natural healings followed as he sought from nature what his body needed. [...]

Early man related to his insides, then, symbolically in a way that is now quite outside of your comprehension. [...] He felt so at one with the land, he and his body, that “a conscious knowledge of it,” it in your terms not only would have inhibited his identification with nature, but his agility within it.

Man has a knowledge of his body. [...] Each man feels his relationship with his body. [...]

If he uses his patience it will be for his best advantage, everything taken into consideration, to remain with his present company, and his impatience will not serve him well if he leaps too fast.

Philip would do well in his home relationships to be more open, for there is a possibility that his secretiveness could here cause serious difficulties. The home relationship is a strong basis for his inner security, and if he threatens it this will be seriously reflected in his other areas of activity.

[...] It is not his place. It is not his area, and because of his conscientiousness, and hardheadedness, he would be much harder on these women than is necessary. [...]

Oddly enough, the fact that the movement is conservative will work to his advantage in very strange ways. Though they may not agree with his political beliefs, they will on the other hand trust his integrity because the movement is conservative. [...]