“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

1:40 PM–3:30: James. But Bob McClure drops in. (Body stuff continues.) [RFB note: Bob McClure died, August 1979, of cancer.] Do two sketches of Bob McClure.

[...] 2. Last Saturday afternoon, March 17, Bob McClure visited us unexpectedly. [...] We had an enlightening talk, and by the time he left Bob said more than once that he’s “learned a lot” from Jane. Jane on the other hand was surprised at Bob’s lack of insight into the challenge of cancer that he’s taken on. [...]

(10:02.) Your friend Bob McClure believes that the self cannot be trusted, these beliefs coming from his parents’ interpretation of Christianity. [...]

[...] “What am I doing, Bob? [...]

[...] “What am I doing, Bob?”

[...] “What am I doing, Bob?” she asked again, surprised. [...]

[...] Bob McClure, who is dead, was there. [...]

(“I don’t know, Bob.”)

(“What was Bob McClure’s role in my dream of Jane walking last night?”)

[...] “I saw a station wagon just like your father’s,” Bob Hagel said.

[...] She shook her head emphatically so that her short curly black hair bobbed up and down.

(Bob Hagel grinned at her, yet for a moment he didn’t know what to say. [...]

[...] Bob Monroe is the author of Journeys Out of the Body,¹ the book that Jane and I regard as the premier work on the subject. [...]

[...] [According to Seth, Emerson was a Speaker too!] Then Bob Monroe and his wife arrived, and we had a busy evening. [...]

[...] Instead Jane used her “own” abilities to tune in on the diagram of a machine that Bob Monroe drew; he had seen this on one of his out-of-body journeys. [...]

Dear Bob,

(“I guess that’s it, Bob,” Jane said. [...]

[...] “Oh, that was weird, Bob,” she said. [...] What was I trying to do, Bob?”

[...] I figure why doesn’t he say something to help me out?—I’m not going to have Bob ask.” [...]

[...] And Bob Terrio, of Bob Terrio Productions, marketed a video, The Seth Phenomena, in which I discuss Jane’s and my work.

[...] I was surprised that she said she’d have one: “I don’t know whether I can do this, Bob, or how far I’ll get, but I’m going to try …”

[...] “Whatever happens, Bob, I’d like all of the material published someday, if it can be done. [...]

(“Bob, I feel funny,” Jane said at 9:31, as I sat reading on the couch. [...]

[...] I had put all my writing materials away when she said at 6:44: “Bob, I think I can get something, if you want to take it down.... [...]

[...] She got mad at me briefly just now when I demanded to know if I would really get a session tonight: “Bob, I’m trying as hard as I can. [...]

(“But Bob,” Peggy had said, “you don’t have to go it all alone....”)

[...] “Please, Bob, move me, move me, but don’t swing me so far out into the room, out in the middle like that....” [...]

(Jane’s turn onto her back when I reached 330 at 12:10 [after taking the car to Bob’s Car Wash to get it waxed] went very easily. [...]

[...] “Oh Bob.” [...]

[...] The arm effects appeared after I’d left her last night; at around 7:30 she’d said to herself: “I want to have something good to show Bob tomorrow.” [...]

[...] “Oh, Bob, that’s all,” she said, half crying. [...]

[...] The you that paints your paintings is far more than the Bob Butts you call yourself, though you are that Bob Butts. [...]