“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Scene 3—These same women, myself, and at least one man are hiding though I don’t remember why. We’re in a large storage building. Some men, maybe police, come in and we hide in the shadows; a door beside is going to open so we get down and drag ourselves on our bellies to another door at the end of the room to hide in the shadows. The man with us may have his hands in shackles or something; I have to help him climb over some walls. As we move toward door shadows, almost same, I see one woman carrying Rob’s landscape (the one in our bedroom) pushing it ahead of her. When we almost have it made one woman says to hell with it, she can’t take it another minute; she’s just going to stand up and show herself no matter what. I’m furious at her. Rob wakens me.

To confine such creativity to solve life’s problems primarily or to direct it primarily in that fashion, limits it and holds it in an improper focus; shackles it. [...]

[...] It is in those instances that the body consciousness arises and throws off its shackles.

(Long pause at 4:40.) Comments for Ruburt: today’s additional motion further shows his improvements as body and mind both throw off old shackles of repression. [...]

[...] God may know itself through a million or a thousand million other worlds, as so may I — but because this world is, and because I am alive in it, it is more than appearance, more than a shackle to be thrown aside. [...]

[...] Physical survival does not demand these habits any longer, and they remain as shackles. [...]

[...] You also have to be free enough, and will be, to stand on your own position, and you must be free enough to cast aside the shackles that invisibly surround the field of painting, and even your own interpretation of it.

“To confine such creativity to solve life’s problems primarily, or to direct it primarily in that fashion, limits it and holds it in an improper focus; shackles it.