“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

As many light snacks would actually be much better than three large meals a day, so short naps rather than such an extended period would also be more effective. There would be other benefits. The conscious self would recall more of its dream adventures as a matter of course, and gradually these would be added to the totality of experience as the ego thinks of it.

You would retain a far greater memory of your subjective experiences, and your body would be healthier, if these sleeping patterns were changed. Six to eight hours of sleep in all would be sufficient with the nap patterns outlined. And even those who think they now need more sleep than this would find that they did not, if all the time was not spent in one block. The entire system, physical, mental, and psychic, would benefit.

The divisions between the self would not be nearly as severe. Physical and mental work would be easier, and the body itself would gain steady periods of refreshment and rest. Now, as a rule, it must wait, regardless of its condition, at least for some sixteen hours. For other reasons having to do with the chemical reactions during the dream state, bodily health would be improved; and this particular schedule would also be of help in schizophrenia, and generally aid persons with problems of depression, or those with mental instability.

The psychic centers would be activated more frequently, and the entire identity of the personality would be better strengthened and maintained. The resulting mobility and flexibility of consciousness would cause an added dividend in increased conscious concentration, and fatigue levels would always remain below danger points. A greater equalization, both physical and mental, would result.

I thought I would come to your assistance, for such a book would solve many problems. It would take care of the sessions’ organization, for one thing.

Such a book would be written during our sessions however, dictated by me, for our friend Ruburt would not let me inside his own writing hours.

There would be unity, of course, and this would take care of the organization of our material. [...]

The first book would of course introduce me, and it would involve a study of mediumship; not from the viewpoint of the medium, but from the viewpoint of the personality for which she speaks.

[...] The images would not take, so to speak, but would appear and disappear with great rapidity. This would be a silent area. Thoughts as a rule would not be perceived here, for the symbols that form them would not be understood.

The tangerine then would be compared to a group of many systems, and yet it would represent in itself but one small portion of an unperceived whole. The tangerine would be but one segment, you see, of a larger system. You can see then why projections would lead you in a far different direction from your normal linear sort of travel, and why time as you know it would be meaningless.

[...] If it were possible for you, you would then travel through a range of intensities in which no camouflage existed. Then you would encounter the pseudocamouflage, you see, of the next system. This would or would not be physical matter, according to the system.

The thoughts would not be perceived if they were present, you see. [...] You could, from this peak, theoretically look into the other system, but you would not understand what you perceived. You would not have the proper root assumptions, you see.

[...] Through the inner senses, and using a very simple analogy, you would not only see the street as you do or hear the few sounds that drift to your ears. You would actually experience directly the essence of everything within a certain range. This experience would be instantaneous and would, using the analogy, include more than the usual data that you would receive from the outer senses. That is, not only would you be able to feel the air though you were not out in it, not only would you pick up the odors, though ordinarily you cannot do this while you look out through closed windows, but you would literally feel the unitary essences of the trees and branches and hidden birds and insects. You would experience directly the personalities of the inhabitants of the automobiles—the vitality even of the components of the automobiles’ molecules, and “see” (in quotes) the future and the past experience of everything within that particular range of focus. And the range itself would be much larger.

The inner experience of which I speak would not be frightening, although it would be frightening in the extreme if you were not prepared for it. The fact is that you would experience these other live things as if you were part of them. You would know them directly. No one would have to teach you about the oneness of all living things, or the brotherhood of man. The lesson would be instantaneous and complete.

This has happened, although in what you would call primitive societies. Such personalities were more sheltered than they would be in yours. This could result in a temporary, but thoroughly frightening existence between planes that would require utmost caution on the part of the entity. Each plane necessitates its own orientation, and such a personality would have none. If the situation should ever arise I would advise that neither of you experiment with such drugs. [...]

[...] This whole experience would be so vivid that it would be impressed upon your personality pattern with such impact and clearness that you would never forget it.

Had Ruburt not accepted, however, it is most probable that he would have chosen another life in which to fulfill the task, in which case I would have waited. The decision was always his, however, and had he not accepted at all, other arrangements would have been made.

[...] To paraphrase: Using this sense, an observer standing on a typical street would feel the experience of being anything he chose within his field of notice: people, trees, insects, blades of grass. He would retain his own consciousness, and would perceive sensations somewhat in the way we now feel heat and cold. [...]

I would not have spoken in this way, for this work requires a certain specific rapport, and definite characteristics on the part of the personality involved. [...] Had Ruburt not been available, the material would have been given to a Speaker, living in your terms, who was also involved in the creative field.

[...] It was known, for example, that Ruburt would need your support, as it was also known that the work itself would help your own creative abilities.

You would end up eventually making a studio in the attic, which would cost you more money, which you would have to spend. In the summer there would indeed be annoying children’s voices that reminded you that others lived differently. Ruburt would end up ripping away part of the carpet—good expensive rug—and changing the rooms about. And you cannot put a money value on what you would get out of that house.

In the Foster house you would find yourselves having to open the place up, and you would find triumphant joy when the windows worked. Ruburt would eventually alter the kitchen so that more light came in. That would be symbolic and practical.

[...] The property also will rise, as I said the Foster property would. [...] You would definitely however end up tearing down a wall, and I believe that you might add another room, or want to possibly in the future, to one side. You would also end up enlarging some windows for your work areas. Ruburt would, incidentally, as he said, plop down at the largest window.

[...] The same house on low land would not suffice, you see. [...] You would end up, I imagine, tearing down a wall.

Two mergers would seem to represent your best opportunity, two rather than three, and you could maintain excellent control here. One element therefore would be dropped, and it would prove in the overall not as effective as it would seem—one could be a liability, and might need to be discarded even if at first included. Two mergers would be much more effective. [...]

[...] (Virginia.) There is no particular benefit to your moving at this time, and the venture of which I have spoken would do best if begun here; and if it is begun here it would spread, but this would be its focal point and the point of overall management. It would need you see an informal hand, and every effort should be made not to intimidate the small businessmen who would be coming for help and service.

That person’s ability to handle public relations would be highly important. Either there is an individual already in mind for that position, or the individual that would be chosen for it would not have the capabilities that it seems he would have. [...]

It is a new service, and would take place generally speaking within the same framework within which you now operate. [...] It would set you up, and would be not so much a merger as a completely new development of your own initiation.

You would not go shopping or do any chores you did not absolutely need to do. Your work would be clear and unimpeded. It would dictate what decisions you made. [...] It would make little difference, and this applies to each of you, whether you worked 12 hours for three days straight, or whether you worked more regular hours. Following your inclinations, you would discover your own prime working creative rhythm.

On other occasions you would not feel like working. You would not force yourself to work on those occasions, for your natural need for play of some kind —outings or guests—would then assert themselves. You would enjoy chores done then, for your body and mind would both be refreshed by the different activities.

You would be working intensely when you work, and your relaxation periods would be far more refreshing. Your work would come easier. [...]

[...] Such a policy would allow you an automatic way of making such decisions, would clear the air, and give you each a far more exuberant flow of energy.

He felt that for all your talk you wanted him to discipline spontaneity in a way basically impossible for him, that to release it in physical terms would mean two dangers: You would find him unbearable; and his sexuality released, would then demand fulfillment. He feared he would look elsewhere. [...]

It is all there is black and white, including suggestions in the sexual area, why it would be advantageous, the various emotional points of resistance that would appear during such encounters, and their significance, and much more.

[...] Others would not be accepted, and you would run from them.

[...] He watched and waited to see if you would bring in his rackets when I suggested it—to him a symbol that you would tolerate frivolity in terms of such a game.

[...] Ruburt would indeed perceive withering looks on such occasions. [...] But Ruburt would immediately panic.

[...] You would insist he overreacted, that no one should be that suggestible. He would think of the abject label again, have no use for himself, and think the whole thing useless. [...]

The whole thing boils down to the fact that he thought and felt you would not help him, but demand that he use his own abilities and help himself independently of you. [...] At other times you would say “Be careful,” impatiently, “Watch where you are going. [...]

[...] If you reacted as Nebene you would later rationalize the results to him—while he would know in that (underlined) instance he was not projecting so he could not trust his reactions toward you.

[...] Nor would I think of shattering a window to prove so paltry a point as the existence of my own unlimited vitality and energy. For my friend Ruburt would never allow it. [...] My only point in such unseeming [sic] and undignified, unbusinesslike and unconventional demonstration—I would make a poor bank president—my only point is to let you know that existence knows no barriers and a breeze and ease through blood and bone are born [sic]. I could and I would—and I would—enjoy speaking in such a manner until dawn, but you could never take it, and Ruburt would hide in the cellar for three days following. [...]

[...] Would you prefer that I be as silent and solitary and quiet as a tiny pin that sits upon the blue rug? [...] Only because I make you think, do not ever believe that I would have you forget your banking [sic] intellect, for this is not the case, and if there is much I have not said to you, it is because you know already what I would say to you. [...]

[...] I did not think it would be dignified of me to grab her by the dress collar and to bring her back. [...] My keeper here would not permit it, however. [...]

I have been here, as Ruburt knows well, through your class this evening, and he has given me permission, for I would not dare peek into this class unless he told me that I could do so. [...] But Ruburt knew that I would be here before class was over, and I come to you with no great pronouncements. [...]

She would have talked the landlord into taking one week’s rent instead of two months’ rent in advance. There is a supermarket three blocks away where she would have gotten a job that would have lasted seven months. At the end of this time you would have had a job in an advertising firm. You would have gotten by very well. You would not have stayed at the advertising firm over eighteen months. However Jane would have worked in an art gallery—this experience was ahead of her, not foreordained but ahead of her in any case. You would have ended up in the same gallery.

[...] Mr. Burrell would have come to the trailer to tell—and I will say Jane now—that she did not have to pay the 17.50 short on her register. Jane’s father would have asked Mr. Burrell to go to the bar for drinks. The fight would have been started by Jane’s father. Midge, I believe that is her name, would have flirted with Mr. Burrell. You would have been painting in the trailer. Jane would have gone with her father, since I think this particular bar was only a short distance away.

The situation would have been much worse. [...] He would have tried to make a serious mistake at this time. In pity and against his own intuition, he would have tried to move in with your parents. You would have both attempted to support them, with disastrous psychic effects. There is little more I would like to say here. [...]

[...] At the time a trip to Florida would have been fine, although a meeting with Ruburt’s father on prolonged terms was not a good idea. Had you left Ruburt’s father for Miami you would have done well. Had you, Joseph, offered an alternative to going with Ruburt’s father, Ruburt would have accepted it and you would have done well.

But without the challenge and the conflict the personality would have had little chance to develop its potential, particularly in terms of understanding. Your own relationship would indeed have deteriorated to some degree. The spontaneity of Ruburt’s nature otherwise would have nearly dried up, and you as well as Ruburt would have sorely missed it. [...]

His abilities, to be used fully, would inevitably have led him to such a crisis point, or better to such a challenge. Any work of art of his, not an apprentice work, would have led him to the same point. [...]

[...] Any work of fiction in which his abilities were at all fulfilled would have brought him to this point, and any endeavor such as the psychic work, which was adopted. In other words, for the personality to use its abilities fully that challenge would have had to be faced in every instance but the poetry.

It would have been a mistake of the most tragic order, however, to shy away from the full development of abilities. Otherwise there would have been an extremely rigorous personality, with intuition very strong but firmly held at bay; or a highly disorganized spontaneous personality frittering away its energies without direction.

[...] I get, Theodore, that anything involving Syracuse would, with you directly up there I guess, be definitely more confining than down here no matter what it looked like ahead of time. And something about—anything involving Syracuse would involve you as a figurehead only—no matter what you have been told ahead of time. [...] That its outlines for this would start to make sense and emerge, but thatthere would still be something else here. And that two things would actually emerge from what seems like one thing down here. Would look like one thing but two things would be involved, actually. [...]

(Seth stated that the editors at Cosmo would be interested, and that in answer to Jane’s query, which would consist of a chapter from her ESP book plus a letter outlining her ideas on adapting it for the magazine, they would send a letter of interest. Such an article, Seth said, would not be immediately bought by Cosmopolitan, but would eventually. The editors would ask for some changes. In the beginning they would be merely interested. [...]

[...] A great danger at this particular time would be that an admission of the saucer’s existence would, strangely enough, serve to unite the far-left and far-right extremist groups in this country. These groups would unite in declaring the craft to be Russian, that they were much advanced over anything we have; this whole furor would create panic, Seth said. In six months such reasoning would not apply, because of impending developments in this country. This would presumably be because of the impending elections, though Seth didn’t say this in so many words. In answer to my question he said Barry Goldwater would not be one of the far-rightists to cause trouble. [...]

[...] If he executed the suggestions properly, Seth told Bill he would wake up tomorrow to find his cold vastly improved. He would not be rid of it overnight, but would be well on the way to disposing of it.

(Seth said one other person would be involved, but he would not say whether it would be a male or female.

[...] Both of you decided that you would give your lives to creative work. Both of you decided that you would have no children, not only because this fit in with the first goal, but because the energy connected with family life would go into your creative productions, would be saved and available when you began to embark upon the psychic work for which you had also planned.

[...] It drove Ruburt at times to try to deny womanhood, to assure you and herself that her body would not betray you both. He would not have his periods—thus he would show both of you, symbolically, that you need not fear his body, since it obviously was not functioning as a woman’s should.

[...] When you were working full time some years ago at Artistic your fears that Ruburt would become pregnant became an obsession. You were already breaking one of your directives, you see, in working full time at other pursuits, and so you became twice as frightened that you would fall into the world’s familiar mold, have children in which case the job would become indispensable.

[...] He would never ask you to park close to your destination. He felt it a sign of weakness on his part to even think of it, yet he also felt that on occasion you showed an annoying lack of sympathy or understanding, and at his worst moments he would feel that you purposely chose a place further away—that it was for his own good, you thought, that he face the humiliation in realizing in what poor condition he was. This would automatically cause all kinds of symptoms, needless to say.

He knew quite well that you would be both casting yourselves adrift financially in conventional terms. [...] He was quite aware of his own fears also, but he felt that the stimulus would offset these, and that you would not add your courage to his when he was faltering. Unless he did something, he felt, the status quo would continue.

[...] You would say “But you will not get a job,” or “You are not able to,” and that would make him think you did not understand at all. Of course he would not, and you should not.

[...] He would never bring it up. [...] You would think he would not understand, or that he did not appreciate what you were doing. [...]

He was afraid that you would grow more deeply to resent this, and that you would not rouse yourself in time to do what you must do. [...] He was afraid you would not do it. [...]

[...] As Ruburt mentioned, years ago in Sayre he would find someplace in your apartment that seemed somehow secret for his workroom. He would then momentarily, for a while, withdraw from the workaday world. On other occasions he would write nighttimes, letting those hours by themselves create their own moods of secrecy and isolation from the social environment. [...]

Now spontaneously he would give more sessions for others, quite happily and easily, but in the framework of the situation, the black or white aspect holds back such expression. (Pause.) He would probably see more groups, as you both did at 458 together, were it not for the black or white thinking, but this would be in response to quite spontaneous urgings to do so. [...]

(“It would be easy for her to transpose that basic fear of the psychic abilities and Seth into a fear of spontaneity going too far, and of not working at her desk. [...] But the intellect would insist upon keeping rigid control, fearing that if Jane let her spontaneous self hold sway that it would go whole hog psychically, in the worst way, and destroy all other elements and activities of the personality.”

[...] (Long pause.) If Ruburt wrote other kinds of books—mysteries, for example, or straight novels—he would of course have no trouble explaining them in the public arena. But he would not find that arena anymore to his overall liking.

And if you would work, and if you would look inward, and if you would explore the levels of your own reality and the levels of your own consciousness, then you would know what this state is—and you would remember it—and you would always have its reality as a guide. [...]

[...] And you all know I would not huff and puff and blow your door in unless I gave proper warning—and I am giving proper warning! [...] If I had gold stars, I would paste one on his (Theodore’s) forehead—but then he would be the one who would have to go to the bank and explain the strange star and not I.

[...] If I solved your problems for you, there would be no need for you to use your own inner resources. There would be no need for you to look inward and recognize your own abilities. And it would indeed be a betrayal of you on my part to treat you in such a manner. [...]

Now, if I did not know your potentials, then I would not bother you. If all of you did not have abilities that you were not using, I would leave you alone. For to needle you would be cruel and I am not cruel. [...]

She would not admit the fear, but would change the fear to pride, saying to herself that the world was evil, and she would therefore have little to do with it. [...] They would harm no one.

[...] She responded to warmth in people, and was somewhat childlike in this manner, but she would not pay any attention to a sharp tongue. She would turn her directions elsewhere. As people can turn their backs, she would turn her inner self away.

[...] The self would expand. In your relationship with your parents for example, such a psychic expansion of self would allow you to absorb your own awareness of their sometimes painful existence, and you would feel no wound yourself.

[...] She produced in other words an idiot, who was in his own way supremely invulnerable to the realization of misfortune, a child who would not grow mentally into an adult, and a child who would remain secure in a relatively eternal childhood.