Seth: The Nature of the Psyche - Session 755

Session 755

When I use the term “psyche”, many of you will immediately wonder about my definition.

Any word, simply by being thought, written or spoken, immediately implies a specification.  In your daily reality it is very handy to distinguish one thing from another by giving each item a name.  When you are dealing with subjective experience, however, definitions can often serve to limit rather than express a given experience.  Obviously the psyche is not a thing.  It does not have a beginning or ending.  It cannot be seen or touched in normal terms.  It is useless, therefore, to attempt any description of it through usual vocabulary, for your language primarily allows you to identify physical rather than nonphysical experience.

I am not saying that words cannot be used to describe the psyche, but they cannot define it.  It is futile to question: “What is the difference between my psyche and my soul, my entity and my greater being?” for all of these are terms used in an effort to express the greater portions of your own experience that you sense within yourself.  Your use of language may make you impatient for definitions, however.  Hopefully this book will allow you some intimate awareness, some definite experience, that will acquaint you with the nature of your own psyche, and then you will see that its reality escapes all definitions, defies all categorizing, and shoves aside with exuberant creativity all attempts to wrap it up in a neat package.

When you begin a physical journey, you feel yourself distinct from the land through which you travel.  No matter how far you journey – on a motorcycle, in a car or plane, or on foot – by bicycle or camel, or truck or vessel, still you are the wanderer, and the land or ocean or desert is the environment through which you roam.  When you begin your travels into your own psyche, however, everything changes.  You are still the wanderer, the journeyman or journey-woman – but you are also the vehicle and the environment.  You form the roads, your method of travel, the hills or mountains or oceans, as well as the hills, farms, and villages of the self, or of the psyche, as you go along.

When in colonial times men and women traveled westward across the continent of North America, many of them took it on faith that the land did indeed continue beyond – for example – towering mountains.  When you travel as pioneers through your own reality, you create each blade of grass, each inch of land, each sunset and sunrise, each oasis, friendly cabin or enemy encounter as you go along.

Now if you are looking for simple definitions to explain the psyche, I will be of no help.  If you want to experience the splendid creativity of your own being, however, then I will use methods that will arouse your greatest adventuresomeness, your boldest faith in yourself, and I will paint pictures of your psyche that will lead you to experience even its broadest reaches, if you so desire.  The psyche, then, is not a known land.  It is not simply an alien land, to which or through which you can travel.  It is not a completed or nearly complete subjective universe already there for you to explore.  It is, instead, an ever-forming state of being, in which your present sense of existence resides.  You create it and it creates you.

It creates in physical terms that you recognize.  On the other hand, you create physical time for your psyche, for without you there would be no experience of the seasons, their coming and their passing.

There would be no experience of what Ruburt calls “the dear privacy of the moment”, so if one portion of your being wants to rise above the solitary march of the moments, other parts of your psyche rush, delighted, into that particular time-focus that is your own.  As you now desire to understand the timeless, infinite dimensions of your own greater existence, so “even now” multitudinous elements of that nonearthly identity just as eagerly explore the dimensions of earthbeing and creaturehood.

Earlier I mentioned some odd effects that might occur if you tried to take your watch or other timepiece into other levels of reality.  Now, when you try to interpret your selfhood in other kinds of existence, the same surprises or distortions or alterations can seem to occur.  When you attempt to understand your psyche, and define it in terms of time, then it seems that the idea of reincarnation makes sense.  You think, “Of course.  My psyche lives many lives physically, one after the other.  If my present experience is dictated by that in my childhood, then surely; my current life is a result of earlier ones.”  And so you try to define the psyche in terms of time, and in so doing you limit your understanding and even your experience of it.

Let us try another analogy: You are an artist in the throes of inspiration.  There is before you a canvas, and you are working in all areas of it at once.  In your terms each part of the canvas could be a time period – say, a given century.  You are trying to keep some kind of overall balance and purpose in mind, so when you make one brushstroke in any particular portion of this canvas, all the relationships within the entire area can change.  No brushstroke is ever really wiped out, however, in this mysterious canvas of our analogy, but remains, further altering all the relationships at its particular level.

These magical brushstrokes, however, are not simple representations on a flat surface, but alive, carrying within themselves all of the artist’s intent, but focused through the characteristics of each individual stroke.

If the artist paints a doorway, all of the sensed perspectives within it open, and add further dimensions of reality.  Since this is our analogy, we can stretch it as far as we like – far further than any artist could stretch his canvas.  Therefore, there is no need to limit ourselves.  The canvas itself can change size and shape as the artist works.  The people in the artist’s painting are not simple representations either – to stare back at him with forever-fixed glassy eyes, or ostentatious smiles dressed in their best Sunday clothes.  Instead, they can confront the artist and talk back.  They can turn sideways in the painting and look at their companions, observe their environment, and even look out of the dimensions of the painting itself and question the artist.

Now the psyche in our analogy is both the painting and the artist, for the artist finds that all of the elements within the painting are portions of himself.  More, as he looks about, our artist discovers that he is literally surrounded by other paintings that he is also producing.  As he looks closer, he discovers that there is a still-greater masterpiece in which he appears as an artist creating the very same paintings that he begins to recognize.

Our artist then realizes that all of the people he painted are also painting their own pictures, and moving about in their own realities in a way that even he cannot perceive.

In a flash of insight it occurs to him that he also has been painted – that there is another artist behind him from whom his own creativity springs, and he also begins to look out of the frame.

Now:  If you are confused, that is fine – for it means that already we have broken through conventional ideas.  Anything that I say following this analogy will seem comparatively simple, for by now it must appear at least that you have little hope of discovering your own greater dimensions.

Again, rather than trying to define the psyche, I will try to incite your imagination so that you can leap beyond what you have been told you are, to some kind of direct experience.  To some extent this book itself provides its own demonstration.  I call Jane Roberts “Ruburt” simply because the name designates another portion of her reality, while she identifies herself as Jane.  She writes her own books and carries on as each of you do in life’s ordinary context.  She has her own unique likes and dislikes, characteristics and abilities; her own time and space slot as each of you do.  She is one living portrait of the psyche, independent in her own context, and in the environment as given.

Now I come from another portion of reality’s picture, from another dimension of the psyche in which your existence can be observed, as you might look upon a normal painting.

In those terms, I am outside of your “frame” of reference.  My perspective cannot be contained in your own painting of reality.  I write my books, but because my primary focus is in a reality that “is larger than your own”, I cannot appear as myself fully within your reference.

So Ruburt’s subjective perspective opens up because of his desire and interest, and discloses my own.  He opens up a door in himself that leads to other levels of his being, but a being that cannot be completely expressed in your world.  That existence is mine, expressed in my experience at another level of reality, so I must write my books through Ruburt.  Doors in the psyche are different from simple openings that lead from one room to another, so my books only show a glimpse of my own existence.  You all have such psychological doors, however, that lead into dimensionally greater areas of the psyche, so to some extent or another I speak for those other aspects of yourselves that do not appear in your daily context.

Beyond what I recognize as my own existence, there are others.  To some extent I share in their experience – to a far greater extent, for example, than Ruburt shares in mine.

On some relatively few occasions, for example, Ruburt has been able to contact what he calls “Seth Two”.  That level of reality, however, is even further divorced from your own.  It represents an even greater extension of the psyche, in your terms.  There is a much closer relationship, in that I recognize my own identity as a distinct portion of Seth Two’s existence, where Ruburt feels little correspondence.  In a manner of speaking, Seth Two’s reality includes my own, yet I am aware of my contribution to “his” experience.

In the same way, each of my readers has a connection with the same level of psychic reality.  In greater terms, all of this is happening at once.  Ruburt is contributing and forming a certain portion of my experience, even as I am contributing to his.  Your identities are not something already completed.  Your most minute action, thought, and dream adds to the reality of your psyche, no matter how grand or austere the psyche may appear to you when you think of it as a hypothetical term.

… Largely, the writing of this book occurs in a “no-time, or out-of-time context”.  Physically, however, Ruburt and Joseph take many hours in its production.  They have moved to a new house.  Ruburt, as usual, is smoking as I speak.  His foot rests upon a coffee table, as he moves back and forth in his rocking chair.  It is nearing midnight as I speak.  Earlier, a great thunderstorm raged, its reverberations seeming to crack the sky.  Now it is quiet, with only the drone of Ruburt’s new refrigerator sounding like the deep purr of some mechanical animal.

As you read this book, you are also immersed in such intimate physical experiences.  Do not consider them as separated from the greater reality of your being, but as a part of it.  You do not exist outside of your psyche’s being, but within it.  Some of you may have just put children to bed as you read these lines.  Some of you may be sitting at a table.  Some of you may have just gone to the bathroom.  These mundane activities may seem quite divorced from what I am telling you, yet in each simple gesture, and in the most necessary of physical acts, there is the great magical unknowing elegance in which you reside – and in the most ordinary of your motions, there are clues and hints as to the nature of the psyche and its human expression.