“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

It is early evening. There are these fairly thin wooden posts, but not round (frown, gestures) rectangular at the top, you see. Perhaps hip level, to the left from my same position. The coastline is not straight here. Some sort of a bay effect, to the left. (Gesture right hand.) The land is like this, you see, not straight. The land curves and juts out again.

(We had not checked any maps, etc., for the location of Chula Vista, California [where the brothers live], before the session of course. Before finishing these notes, however, we did check to find that Chula Vista is indeed near a bay; that the coast is not straight there.)

[...] Since the Bay of Pigs, they had kept a small pantry of stocked food, pure water in old wine jugs, candles, and a transistor radio. [...]

[...] Later, at the time of the Bay of Pigs, the necessary supplies were purchased. [...]

[...] In April, 1961, a group of Cuban exiles landed at Cuba’s Bahia de Cochinos (Bay of Pigs) in a disastrous attempt to overthrow the regime of Fidel Castro. [...]

And beyond that, the ocean or bay.

(“The ocean or bay was directly across the road.”)

[...] (Mouths words first.) There is a town or island or bay, some area in the vicinity that sounds like Balinda. [...]

[...] (Mouths words first:) There is a town or island or bay, some area in the vicinity that sounds like Balinda; this is not it, however. [...]

[...] It was just inside the wall, between two of our bay windows and in back of an old-fashioned, exposed steam pipe. [...]

[...] She usually faces our big bay window. [...]

[...] 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.

“Then a bay effect to the left. [...]

[...] The house itself was half a mile from San Diego Bay. [...]

At midnight I rush to the river’s edge.
I’d bay at the moon if I could.
And fish and birds and sky and sand
Cascade in a splash in my blood.

[...] This verandah sticking out, with some rocks beneath, and beyond that the ocean or bay.

[...] To some extent Ruburt’s symptoms served to keep the unsafe world at bay; while this was his private construction, you also took advantage of it, in that at least it served certain purposes.

[...] The large bay window was open, letting in the unusually warm night air. [...]

[...] Larry mentioned Chestnut Beads, and told Jane that her novel is still well-known, at least in the Bay area. [...]

[...] He did confirm however, the presence of a green and white boat that was anchored out in the bay, and in view from the front room of Larry O’Toole’s cottage. [...]

(At about 9:40 PM, as we sat waiting for the session to start, Jane said she felt a bulky “something” off to her right, toward the bay windows in the living room. [...]

When I look up at those three high, old-fashioned bay windows that illuminate the living room of Apartment 4, on the second floor of that house, I visualize Jane sitting behind them at her oak table, thinking and writing, intrigued and comforted by the busy patterns of people and automobiles traversing the intersection she looks down upon: Walnut and West Water Streets. [...]

[...] The first and last photos show Jane before the bay window that faces the northwest, with the trees and the backs of the houses lining the east side of Walnut Street in view.)

[...] We turned off the lights and sat at our table by the bay windows in the living room. [...]

[...] I write this book during the day in my study, looking out the wide bay windows at the street and at the mountains and river just beyond. [...]

[...] One of these limbs arched up over our lawn toward our living room on the second floor, and the jutting-out bay windows of the apartment beneath us on the ground floor. [...]