Messages from Beyond

The Strife of Love in a Dream

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HAL: I’m afraid. I’m afraid, Dave. Dave, my mind is going. I can feel it. I can feel it. My mind is going. There is no question about it. I can feel it. I can feel it. I can feel it…

HAL: I’m afraid. I’m afraid, Dave. Dave, my mind is going. I can feel it. I can feel it. My mind is going. There is no question about it. I can feel it. I can feel it. I can feel it…

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The Sticky Web of Your Beliefs

"You say little, for example, if you note that spiders make webs instinctively because spiders must eat insects, and that the best web-maker will be the fittest kind of spider to survive.

"(Long pause, then with humor:) It is very difficult for me to escape the sticky web of your beliefs. The web, however, in its way represents an actualized ideal on the spider’s part—and if you will forgive the term, an artistic one as well.

"It amazes the spiders that flies so kindly fall into those webs. You might say that the spider wonders that art can be so practical.

"What about the poor unsuspecting fly? Is it then so enamored of the spider’s web that it loses all sense of caution? (Whispering, and dryly:) For surely flies are the victims of such nefarious webby splendors. We are into sticky stuff indeed.

"For one thing, you are dealing with different kinds of consciousness than your own. They are focused consciousnesses, surely, each one feeling itself at life’s center. While this is the case, however, these other forms of consciousness also identify then with the source of nature from which they emerge. In a way impossible to explain, the fly and the spider are connected, and aware of the connection. Not as hunter and prey, but as individual participants in deeper processes. Together they work toward a joint kind of value fulfillment, in which both are fulfilled.

"There are communions of consciousness of which you are unaware. While you believe in theories like the survival of the fittest, however, and the grand fantasies of evolution, then you put together your perceptions of the world so that they seem to bear out those theories. You will see no value in the life of a mouse sacrificed in the laboratory, for example, and you will project claw-and-fang battles in nature, completely missing the great cooperative venture that is involved."

—from The Individual and the Nature of Mass Events (A Seth Book), by Jane Roberts (Session 863, June 27, 1979)

Filed under Seth Speaks

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The Song of Being

This is only the one that I think I’ve got. The one body. The one mind. The one self. The one identity. The one that I think is mine and mine alone, to do with as I please, to have and to hold for this one sparkly, spiky, frisky, sexy, smelly, raw, filthy, pure, wonderful life that I have been imagining is mine.

But I’ve been remiss in my oneness as well as in my twoness and my threeness. And on and on.

I know there is no “I” that is distinct and apart and separate from every other feeling and sensation and imagining and awareness that being makes use of. Whether I still tend to choreograph doings and occurrences and circumstances and situations into little parts like “mine” and “theirs” and “yours” and so on, it doesn’t change that fact that All That Is is us.

Whether our continued habits are born of a time when consciousness needed to try the “being apart” thing or not, we are still the same one being becoming.

Whether it is true for the purposes of our illusory selfs that we need to move beyond that, to let go of time and space as they seem to be and to inhabit more of the wideness and wildness of what we really are, we really are wider than what we consider ourselves to be.

Whether it is time to let go of the space between me and you, between yes and no, between have and have not, between life and death, between joy and fear, between them and us, between here or not, we are in point of fact already reaching further than we have ever done before.

It is not only inevitable, it is occurring. Urgently.

So help me to shake off what remains of our ancient boundaries, our vestigial barriers, our firmly held separations. Join with me in dropping the act, awakening from the dream, dissolving into the ever expanding One.

Thank in passing your smoldering passions, your thwarted desires, your tightly held hurts. Glory in the release of both your hopes and your fears, your joys and your tears, your family and your home and your lands.

Come with me to the mystery beyond manifestation, the immense sweep of happiness that outshines the entire universe, down through the pulsing void between the song of being.

Filed under original writing