Tag Archives: Jane Roberts

Self-Hatred Carrot

I am not usually a re-reader of books. When it comes to reading, I’m a playboy, a cowboy, a Casanova: so many books, so little time. Ladies, ladies, don’t fight. There’s enough of me to go around. I leave early in the morning and before night is through, I’m in bed with another.  I pick up books wherever I go and, seeking inspiration everywhere, am not faithful to any genre.

I buy them cheap, used, mistreated. Faded beauties on street corners. I have even been known to buy books, new, in stores. I crack their virgin spines, they don’t care. I drop them in the tub, they don’t care. I put my cups and plates on them and use them as the filthy whore place-mats they are. They love it. Beg for more. I’ve been with more than three books at a time. Read me, baby, read me.

But, in spite of my loose ways, there is one little sweetheart that I return to from time-to-time. She is perhaps not the greatest literary achievement known to man. No nobel prizes here. But oh, how she’s captured my restless heart with her mystery, her flawed beauty. The way she winks, irresistibly, at my very soul, down to my toes and back up again.

Her name is The Education of Over Soul Seven, by Jane Roberts. Jane Roberts is the famous psychic from the seventies that channeled the Seth Material. The Seth Material is really dense, heady stuff. Hard to get through. I’ve been chewing on that bone for years. But in Over Soul Seven, Roberts distills a lot of Seth’s wisdom into the form of a novel.

In it, Roberts attempts to explain the multi-dimensionality of human existence, the fluidity and far-reaching capacity of human consciousness, most of which is still unknown to us. She explains huge concepts like time and what happens between life times.

I like to go back to this book when I’m feeling bored or frustrated with my day-to-day life because it reminds me to think of things more expansively. In the book, Over Soul Seven is like the higher self of several different people, from different “times” and places, that are all aspects of himself, like facets of a jewel. But though they essentially are him, they are also entirely their own discreet entities, their own jewel.

We might think of them as past lives, but as Roberts explains it, all time happens simultaneously, so they are more like multiple lives that overlap. Each life, though discreet, affects all the others. Over Soul Seven is undergoing a kind of self-prescribed examination with his oversoul in which he is trying to get all of his simultaneous lives to recognize him and each other in the dream state.

It’s deep right? Being able to see ourselves in this way takes the mundanity out of life, I’ll say. When I get bored with Tai, I just imagine what those other Tai’s are up to: ancient Egypt Tai, probably writing on a wall somewhere. Medieval Tai, flogging herself at her prayer-kneeler. I will be a saint. I will be a saint. It’s fun!

Anyway, one of Seven’s personalities has just died and she’s trying to decide whether or not she’ll come back to earth. She peeks in on her potential parents and realizes that she’d like to have these parents because she tends to be a stuck-in-her-head intellectual type whereas they are more emotional. She recognizes that these parents will help her to get more in touch with her emotions. Also, she sees that she may be a stabilizing force for her passionate parents, so there would be a good exchange of gifts. She sees that her decision is not just about her.

Perhaps people come into this world for all kinds of reasons, but for most of us, for me, our reasons for incarnating probably have to do with these really simple, hard things. Things that require relationship. Things like learning how to be more in touch with our feelings.

I think that modern life really has us distracted from what’s important, from doing the kind of spiritual growth that we came here to do. It keeps us reaching reaching reaching for these really big things. World-domination. The top slot in People magazine’s 50 most beautiful. Just making the list is not enough. Who wants to be #15? The 15th most beautiful person. Loser! No, we gotta be first. Gotta have it all.  We are rarely rewarded for the truly stupendous feat of opening our hearts. Our gifts go unrecognized.

Yesterday, I had a bad day. My self-hatred came clawing its way up to the surface, looking for blood as it sometimes does. I realized that dancing was a perfect storm for my self-hatred. It fed the I’ll-never-be-good-enough story. It was like a carrot on a stick: no I’m not good enough, but tomorrow, or the day after that, I might be. If I try really really hard.

And now that I’m not dancing anymore, there’s no more carrot. Even though I can’t do ballet because of my bum foot, there’s other kinds of dancing I could do, but here’s the thing: I don’t know how to do it without the freakin’ self-hatred carrot! And instead of getting down to business with my heart, I keep searching for the next carrot! God it’s so dumb. I’m addicted to carrots.

Anyway, as I was going through this last night (lots of tears everywhere-crying in the bathroom-I don’t know why these scenes are always played out in the bathroom but they are-probably some instinct to be near water which has a calming effect on us) my boyfriend says that he wishes he could cry like me.

And I said, I wish I could laugh like you. He is funny. Irreverent. Cracked me up in yoga once, bleating like a goat. I mean, who does that? In yoga?

Here I am this deep, heavy person, attracted to someone who knows how to play. It is so perfect. Like two little pieces of a puzzle corner. It seems like such a little thing to learn how to do, but maybe it’s big. Maybe it takes a whole lifetime. Maybe I’ve been worrying too much about external things when what I need is right here, so small, so precious, it’s easy to miss.


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