“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Your confidence in him is important here, for he still harbors Irish superstitions having to do with contacting the dead. The experiments with the table are most helpful, and I did indeed help him out on two occasions with the green table. (Jane pointed to the large heavy green table up by the living room windows.) He does not need my help with the small one, and the time and circumstances were not good on the other occasion when he requested my aid.

S E V; although these could be initials, I believe they are the first letters of a word. (Long pause.) An Irish name or background. Connection with a Barbara. A turnabout in choice of career. A very old relative still living. An A V.

(Jane had an image within, as she spoke, of a capital S and a small e v connected to it. John said the girl’s first name is Terry, which is an Irish name, but that she is Italian, with black—not brown—hair. Last name is Repanshek; but there is a puzzle here, since the name doesn’t seem to be an Italian one. Spelling is John’s phonetic interpretation.

[...] Ireland—you were an Irish lass, and a minstrel. [...]

[...] In a life just previous to that one however, you were a woman with a bitter tongue, who spoke too often and too harshly, and so you set yourself among other things the task, in the Irish life, of speaking only to music. [...]

[...] In the Irish life therefore you chose to roam freely and to inform others as to the happenings of the time.

[...] She’s half English, one-quarter Irish, one-quarter French and Canadian Indian. My English ancestry is leavened with a bit of Irish and German.)

[...] Many of the Irish, the Jews, the Spanish, and some lesser numbers of the French, for instance, are Sumari — though they appear in all races.

[...] Bill and Lorraine did not believe the accent to be Irish, even considering Jane’s early years in an Irish neighborhood and her association with Irish priests.

(Jane grew up in an Irish neighborhood in Saratoga Springs, NY, and Father Trainor was an Irish priest of the old school. [...] Jane herself is one-quarter Irish, although as she has often said, she grew up thinking she was Irish, period.

[...] Jane grew up in an Irish neighborhood in Saratoga Springs, NY, and is a quarter Irish. She had no father at home, growing up as a child, but Father Trainor, a frequent visitor, was Irish.

[...] There is a bleed-through of material from an Irish existence as a young boy of fourteen. [...] As a runner between the Catholic Irish and Englishmen and in a time of terror. [...]

[...] This is the Irish grandmother, the mother, and the neighborhood shouting: Jane, do not run. [...]

[...] For she flaunted the neighborhood and the Irish background physically in her youth, and paid, and Ruburt fought it intellectually, and feels he must pay.

[...] This comes from the Irish grandmother. [...]

[...] From the Irish side, a woman who worked for others, you see, was a domestic. [...]

[...] (Irish skin, I joke with her, although she’s really but a quarter Irish.) She has additional freedom of movement in various joints, such as her knees and hips, although she’s far from being able to walk. [...]

[...] Yet he or she might also find within strong characteristics of another one, in which case the individual is in the same position as someone who is, say, part Irish and part French in physical terms.

[...] That is almost an Irish smile. [...]

[...] And again, the peculiar accent that Bill Gallagher insists is not an Irish brogue, was in evidence at times during the session.)

[...] It’s been called Russian, Irish, German, Dutch, Italian, and even French. [...]

[...] I berated myself at times, thinking that even my Irish grandmother would have found spirits in the living room rather hard to take—and I used to think she was superstitious! [...]

[...] This Wednesday evening the table performed as follows: Irish jigs upon request, vaulting up into the air while in Carl’s grip, chasing around our backs as Carl held it while we tried to keep up with it, skittering across the rug, knocking back and forth, and building up a very strong pressure indeed, when we tried to force the leg up in the air back down to the floor, or rug.

[...] Father Trainor was an Irish Catholic priest who visited Jane and her ill mother regularly, for years, during Jane’s grade and high school days. [...]

Now sometimes, there are also such variations in that the inhabitants of a particular town now may be the reborn inhabitants of those who lived, say, in 1632 in a small Irish village. [...]

[...] I equate this accent with an Irish accent, though the two are not exactly alike as far as I know.)