“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Waving a foot in the air, pointing it at me:) This is the end of tonight’s session. [...]

What does the air mean when it swirls about the windows? [...]

[...] Her left foot and leg went up in the air, the foot rotating quite freely. [...]

And while I speak to you, my lungs
Rise and fall behind breastbones,
Fill their secret tissue mouths
With the air that swirls in this bright room.
They breathe for me the very breath
Upon which all I am depends,
Yet I do not know how this is done.
Who is this ghost,
This other one?
Who moves the lung? [...]

While I sleep and lie stretched out,
Eyelids closed and pupils dark,
Who walks wide-eyed downstairs
Through the door in the cold night air,
And travels where I have never been?
Who leaves clear memories in my head
Of people I have never met?
Who takes these trips while I
Never lift one inch from bed?
Who dreams?

[...] The air is polluted, and you can expect only violence.” If you asked someone else, this individual might say instead: “New York City has the finest of museums, open-air concerts in some of the parks, fine sculpture, theater, and probably the greatest collection of books outside of the Vatican. [...]

(Because it was another very hot and humid night we held the session in our large front room, where air circulation is better. [...] The quality of the air seemed to aggravate the noise, and quite often during the session Jane appeared to pause until the noise abated temporarily. [...]

[...] Abruptly Jane began flopping her head and rotating her left arm, holding the elbow up in the air, so vigorously that she cried out that she was getting dizzy. [...]

[...] Up in the air, Jane rotated her left ankle quite freely—the best I’ve seen her do yet. [...]

[...] Left leg up in the air. [...]

[...] In the natural state of affairs, however, sooner or later, some highly charged positive suggestion then begins to clear the emotional air.

[...] Then he uses his book and suggestion to clear the air and begins again anew.

A few old hangovers, simply to be aired so they do not remain underground—this is old material—but Ruburt’s mother used to tell him that he destroyed everything he touched. [...]

(The symbol as I saw it appeared to be suspended in the air several feet away from me, and although the room was dark I can only say I seemed to see it in black line. [...]

[...] In terms of air, water, how freely these are available to you, sunlight, even the abundance for example of emotional energy present in your friend who just left here, for he makes it available to you also, and gives of it freely. [...]

[...] Then he stops, sensing the environment like an animal sensing the air. [...]

[...] In a house you saturate the atmosphere until the air actually becomes almost an extension, electromagnetically, of your mental and psychic states.

[...] Particularly my shoulders were affected; my arms and hands felt like water or air. [...]

[...] Rob made me drink two cups of coffee; I stood with my head out the window in the cold night air. [...]

(My condition: A feeling of weightlessness, of inability to function in the physical world, yet because my motions were so strange this gave Rob the impression that my limbs were heavy; to me they were light as air. [...]

This should clear the air considerably—and I bid you a fine and hearty good afternoon. [...]

[...] You do not deprive another person of air by breathing it, for you yourself contribute to the atmosphere. [...]

[...] Crying clears the air and guarantees that the emotion will not be repressed. [...]