“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(After supper on the evening of July 3,1966 Jane sat in the backyard. It was not yet dark. Also in the backyard were the girl who lives in the downstairs back apartment, Barbara, and her steady boyfriend Dick. Both are in their thirties. As they sat in lawn chairs, they asked Jane to have a drink with them. This surprised Jane, for she saw that Dick was angry with Barbara for teasing him about marriage. Also, Jane felt that being asked to share a drink with the couple was a gesture, and that when she accepted Dick was not happy about it.

(“A distant connection in the past, with a gathering that was formal, I believe… not certain here… with dancing as at a wedding reception perhaps. Through personal association with my last remark, Ruburt is led to think of the coming D’Andreano wedding.” As stated, Jane was quite embarrassed at the teasing Dick had taken from Barbara about marriage the evening of July 3, and by Dick’s obvious anger. The wedding talk here thus links up with a wedding Jane and I attended perhaps nine years ago in Rochester, NY—that of my brother Dick and Ida D’Andreano. This was a formal occasion for which Jane and I were dressed formally, and at the lengthy reception afterwards there was much dancing, etc.

(In addition, within the past month we have received an announcement of the forthcoming marriage of another D’Andreano, Louie, also in Rochester. We have been invited. Louie witnessed a session a couple of year ago, and was interested in this material for some time. This new wedding, we think, freshens the D’Andreano association. We think there is also another association involving this data—the fact that the two Dicks were involved—Dick in the backyard, and my own brother Dick in Rochester.

(No rebuke was intended upon my part, to Jane, when I asked her, during a break in the 618th session, if she was going to give Dick more specific reincarnational data. [...] The Robert Browning reference concerns a letter Dick received from someone [a medium?] who told him that he’d been Robert Browning in a previous life.

(During the 618th session, which Dick and Eleanor witnessed, and during which I manifested the Nebene characteristics by quizzing Jane about reincarnational data for Dick and Eleanor, Jane also “saw” Nebene by my chair—as she had on the previous occasion some months ago when Sue Watkins was present. [...]

[...] Dick’s very open attitude has already helped Ruburt immensely—another writer, you see; the blending of the writer and psychic, highly important to Ruburt. Dick however did not know where to go after Seagull, until he came onto our material, and it (underlined) will help him.

[...] Generally speaking now, Dick and Ida seldom followed their own impulses; no matter for example how impulsive Dick might have seemed at times in the past. [...]

Ida and Dick both believe to a far greater extent, again, than you two ever did, that the self is unsavory and dangerous. Ida was afraid to see the psychologist again, for fear that therapy would throw up evidence of this feared evil thing, and Dick is afraid of writing poetry again lest the intuitions upset his life. [...]

He felt partially helpless, realizing that neither Dick nor Ida read the books. [...] All of this caused muscular tensions, but he was appalled at what he considered Dick and Ida’s laxness in so many areas, and it seemed that that was the natural human condition, so that you must exert great discipline to keep yourself aloft from it. [...]

(Some notes added later: Dick Bach felt that he didn’t really write Seagull himself. By now the story of that book’s conception is well known: Late one night in 1959, Dick was walking beside a canal near a West Coast beach when he heard a voice say, “Jonathan Livingston Seagull.” [...] On his own Dick tried unsuccessfully to finish the manuscript. [...]

[...] Dick didn’t claim authorship. [...] So she and Dick were highly interested in what Seth would say.

[...] Dick had also visited us in late August, when Seth had Chapter One of this book under way.

[...] You will never have any relationship with the Dick Reed that you have projected upon a living human being. [...] You have no chance in a thousand lives of having a relationship with the man you think of as being Dick Reed, because you cannot have a two-way relationship with an image that is one-sided and has no flesh. [...]

([Pat:] “That I would like more information on, not so much for me, but for Dick, if I ever have the courage to let Dick hear this.”

[...] The students accept this as being Dick. Most of the other women or men like to destroy the image or try to prove it wrong, but they do that out of resentment; they see Dick as a threat. [...]

The reason that Dick has had the same father twice is simply that he died at such a young age, before the relationship could be worked out between the two. Dick’s wife was also alive in England during Dick’s short life. [...]

Much love was bestowed upon the boy, Dick, and at his death Throckmorton was all the more bitter against this eldest child. [...] The house was filled with mourning when Dick died. [...]

[...] This was of my present younger brother Dick during his life in England in 1671. [...]

(See my probability dream, as I called it, involving Dick on the night of Sunday, October 26, 1975. [...] We didn’t know she was pregnant, not having seen Dick and Ida for over a year, or exchanged letters or calls. [...] Dick gave us the news of the birth on the phone Sunday night.)

[...] You met your brother there—Dick—(who visited us last Monday, 11/24/75, with his wife, Ida) where his momentary understanding and illumination allowed him to appear. (On his visit Dick told us he has embarked upon the practice of transcendental meditation recently.) You saw also an Oriental version because his daughter (Teresa), who was also connected to him in an Oriental existence, was about to bear a male child.

(Checking his mail in California, Dick found a letter on White House stationery, written by Mr. Andrews. The brief letter commented favorably on Seagull, and invited Dick to dinner in Washington, DC. Dick called Eleanor, who in turn called us at 9:08 PM Tuesday evening, November 28. [...]

(Notes: Richard Bach and Eleanor Friede called Jane Monday afternoon, November 27, from Bridgehampton, Long Island, before Dick flew back to Carmel, California, and I read this copy to them. Jane then mailed a typed copy of the data for Dick to his California address Tuesday morning, November 28.

[...] To ge some data for Dick, Jane went back into trance at 11:00.)

(One image Jane had while speaking was of Barbara’s boyfriend Dick, and of the very colorful plaid sports jacket he wore. Jane saw Dick wearing this today. [...]

[...] Remember that Jane had an image of Barbara’s boyfriend Dick. Jane is sure this data is a reference to the fact that last Saturday evening, September 3, Barbara and Dick visited a local pub; a bone of contention arose between them over this visit, but will not be discussed here. [...]

(This data is a little more specific than that on page 23, and the man reference concerns Dick; as stated Dick and Barbara visited a certain local pub, and an altercation developed between them because of this. [...]

[...] We were very pleased for Dick. [...] See the 618th session in Chapter Three for an account of Seth’s meeting with Dick and the latter’s editor, Eleanor Friede.

[...] She wrote Dick about it and told others. [...] Actually Time’s design showed a seagull superimposed over Dick Bach’s head, partially obliterating it.

[...] Dick’s young son David fell from a high slide and injured his back. [...] Three females and two males did the attending: My mother; David’s mother Ida; Ann Crosby; David’s father Dick; and my father.

[...] Five of these people were my brother Dick and his family, including three children, from Rochester, NY. [...]

(The people at the gathering were 4 Joe Korens, 5 Dick Buttses, my parents, Jane and me, and 2 Crosbys.

[...] All of the reasons had to do with Eleanor and Rich Bed, and Adventures, Tam, Jane’s feelings of being cut off by Eleanor and Dick, etc. [...]

[...] The last paragraph was new: she felt she couldn’t pressure Eleanor because Dick was publicizing Jane’s books. [...]

[...] I then looked over the edge of the roof, and to my great agitation I saw that Dick had not only fallen off the roof and hit the ground hard, but that now he had slipped over the edge of a steep cliff beside the porch, and was saving himself only by grasping a skinny little shrub that was in the process of loosening in the frozen ground. [...]

[...] Dick went in debt to get the furnace. [...]

[...] Nor did I see Dick again after we went over the falls. [...]

Loren and Dick also chose the situation. [...] Do not lose contact with Dick. [...]

[...] Loren and Dick are my young brothers.)

[...] I believe a 1938 illness for that one (Dick). [...]

(A question from Dick to the effect that he was not born in 1938; he was born in 1939.)

(Then my brother Dick, looking perhaps a little younger than he is now [about 36], was approaching me, smiling down at me and saying something to me. [...] Dick was accompanied by a thin, sharp-faced man in dark-rimmed glasses, neatly dressed in a dark suit and white shirt and colored tie, and a slim rather good-looking woman I did not know. This couple with Dick did not speak to me, as I recall.

[...] My two brothers, Loren and Dick, and I were in a room something like a courtroom, seated behind a long low polished dark-colored table. [...]

[...] I might as well add here, as well as in the session, that the three boys do not get together very often—on the average less than once a year I would say—because we all live in different communities, Loren and Dick have families, and of course each person is always busy with his or her own life.

(Today we returned from a weekend visit with my brother Dick in Rochester, New York. My mother, who now lives with Dick and his wife and family, made the trip back with Jane and me as far as the parking lot at Enfield Glen, Ithaca, where we met my other brother, Loren. [...]

(While taking a drive to the drugstore on Sunday, my brother Dick told me he felt he “didn’t have much” as far as money was concerned. [...]

(“In what town or city in England did Dick die?”

(“What was Dick’s name at that time?”

(Jane and I were most pleased to be included in Timothy Foote’s story about Dick Bach in the issue of November 13, 1972. [...]

(A copy of Seth’s answer to Timothy’s daughter will be sent to Timothy, probably after his article about Dick Bach has appeared in Time Magazine. [...]

[...] I don’t know whether he meant cover story, a la Dick Bach.