“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Past associations merge with present reality and form a pattern. Mentally, a part of you actually starts out upon each street — a projected mental image. Period. As you stand there, then, in this case two such projected images go out onto streets Three and Four. To some extent these images experience “what will happen” if you yourself take one direction or the other. That information is returned to you instantaneously, and you make your decision accordingly. Say you choose Street Four. Physically you begin to walk in that direction. Street Four becomes your physical reality. You accept that experience in your prime sequence of events. You have, however, already sent out an energized mental image of yourself into Street Three, and you cannot withdraw that energy.

(9:34.) Take a very simple action: You stand at a corner, wondering which direction to take. There are four streets involved. You briefly consider streets One and Two, but rather quickly decide against them. You stand for a moment longer, gazing down Street Three, taking in the visual area. You are somewhat attracted, and imagine yourself taking that course. Your imagination places you there momentarily. Inner data is immediately aroused through conscious and unconscious association. Perhaps you are aware of a few memories that dimly come to mind. One house might remind you of one a relative lived in years ago. A tree might be reminiscent of one that grew by your family home. But in that instant, inner computations occur as you consider making a fairly simple decision, and the immediate area is checked against all portions of your knowledge.⁷

You then look at Street Four. The same process happens again. This area also takes your attention. At the same time you almost equally hold in your mind the image of Street Three, for you can see them both at once from this intersection.

(In ordinary terms, I think that during our first month in the hill house we’ve been busy forming a fresh psychic atmosphere within which we can feel comfortable — and that anyone in a similar situation intuitively does the same thing. Perhaps not until a start is made in this way can any of us initiate certain functions in the “new” place. Actually, then, we seek to wed the old environment with the new, using the psyche as a bridge between the two worlds. Now when Jane and I drive past the old house we lived in on Water Street, close by downtown Elmira, we engender within ourselves mixed feelings of strangeness and familiarity. We see the intimately known windows of the two apartments we shared still vacant, the blinds hanging at careless angles. Friends have told us both places are being redecorated to a modest degree. “I’m glad they’re being changed,” Jane said the other day, in a strangely possessive response. “That means the world we had there can’t ever be entered by anyone else.”

[...] A three-piece outfit… I pick up one two five here again and I believe our friend, the cat lover, enters the shop and that the ensemble is in the window… La Rue… I do not know, a street or does she rue entering the shop? The street having to do with flowers, this street, flowers in the name perhaps. [...]

[...] This statue, with the row houses to the left and the street light: Following around the curve to the left you run into a better sectioned area, up a hill on a broad street now, then the street curves again to the left, and beneath it are rocks, that is, a rocky ledge down to the sea, I believe. [...]

[...] A circular formation surrounded by flowers I believe, with closely-crowded, old, at least second-story structures to the left side of the street, or close to the street and nearly identical in rows.

And a modern street light very close nearby

([The Gallaghers:] “The number 12 may be significant in that one night Bill spoke very loudly in his sleep, saying we had to make our way to 12th Street. Neither of us remembers being on 12th Street, though we were in the area.”)

A stop at 74th street, and a 82nd street address.

[...] from 86th to 74th Street to visit particular shops—one on 74th—one may have been on 82nd—one on 86th.)

[...] (Pause.) La Rue (my interpretation), I do not know, a street, or does she rue having entered the shop, you see. The street having to do with flowers, this particular street. [...]

[...] This statue, with the row houses to the left and the street light: Following around the curve to the left, you run into a better-sectioned area, up a hill on a broad street now. [...] Later Jane was to say she was seeing this within, while yet being aware of still sitting in her chair.) Then the street curves again to the left, and beneath it are rocks—that is, a rocky ledge down to the sea, I believe.

[...] (Seth rattled these dates off rapidly.) A circular formation (gesture) surrounded by flowers I believe, with closely-crowded, old, at least second-story structures to the left side of the street, or close to the street and nearly identical in rows.

Metal connected with the statue (pause) and it seems a modern street light very close nearby. [...]

[...] The people who have lived in the Foster Street house, and the hill house, have to some extent already conditioned the rest of the neighbors in a certain way. [...]

You think the green house by the river was too much a box—but it was its open air of hospitality that bothered you—the wide windows open to the street. [...]

[...] Anyone who walks up the steps from the street knows they are making a trip. [...]

[...] The Foster Street house has a certain decadence. [...]

[...] On a nighttime street in a city, maybe New York, a shot rings out. [...] I lunge for him, chase him to street. [...]

(“Can you give us the name of the street your school is, or was, located upon?”)

(“Upon what street were you born, Frank Watts?”)

(“What is the street number of the house Doris and Sam live in?”)

(“This is the street number?”)

(“and a street or avenue, as an avenue of escape.” A street, Gray Street, is printed on the object. [...]

The street or “avenue of escape” should have been separated. A street was mentioned on the object, and you wished to escape attending the event referred to on the object.

The color mentioned was not clear, and the connection was to the street, which was Gray Street. [...]

[...] A connection with a turnabout, and a street or avenue, as an avenue of escape.

[...] The branch, which is perhaps ten feet long and three or four inches in diameter, came crashing down to the street. When it hit the street it bounced, and white chips of wood flew up like sparks from an anvil. [...]

[...] From this room a large plate glass window looks down on West Water Street, and Tom is in the habit of watching the busy activities on the main street below. [...] Jane always waves to him whenever she walks down Water Street, which is at least three times a week.

[...] Possibly a reference to the old brick building which houses the Art Shop, on Elmira’s West Water Street. The location is a few blocks down street from our house address. [...]

(The row of old buildings on West Water Street has been in for much discussion recently, as eyesores, etc. [...]

[...] In Elmira the Art Shop is located on West Water Street, which parallels the Chemung River through the heart of the city. [...]

(“12th Street.” [...] This hotel is on either 12th or 13th St. in Cleveland; John was not positive, but felt the address would be 12th Street rather than 13th Street.

For now, just write down 12th Street, and let it go at that. The 12th Street may have a significance to Philip.

(“A corner bar and grill establishment in the same town, I believe, though I am not certain, as the 12th Street address.” [...] As stated, the hotel is on either 12th or 13th Street.

(John Bradley didn’t say anything about the 12th Street data, as I hoped he wouldn’t, and Jane didn’t ask him about it. [...]

(Jane later told me she felt the street was south of my parents’ home in Sayre—and where I had lived while going to high school. I happened to have a street map of Waverly, Sayre and Athens, and checked it before writing this. No Fox Street. [...]

[...] A connection with fox; did she for example live on a Fox Street. [...]

[...] This may be a Fox Street, to the outside area of town...

[...] The boat and water part of this data refers to our Water Street address on the letter used as object; on past occasions Seth has expressed an interpretation of the Water Street address in this way.

[...] It may refer to a recent gathering of friends here at the Water Street address, about two weeks ago. [...]

[...] Once again, the Water Street address on the letter could give rise to the Florida data. [...]

[...] The water data arises because if the doctor does send me a card, it will be addressed to Water Street.

[...] Place: outside one of our favorite dancing establishments, a few blocks down Water Street from our apartment house.

[...] She began to stop at intervals, exclaiming over all of those surroundings that were, of course, very familiar to us: the swooping automobiles, the street lights and neon signs, the buildings themselves, the Chemung River rolling quietly behind its dike in back of the emporium we’d just left.

[...] A J and a C. A linen shop on a cobblestone street, with the numbers 2 1 5; or separately 1 2 and then 215 connected. [...]

[...] He had not been to our hotel on 46th Street, since when we met at the restaurant he asked us where we were staying. [...]

[...] However, the next session, the 361st, was also quite unusual, and took place in the coffee shop of our hotel, the Paramount, at 235 West 46th Street. [...]

(A note: While taking my usual walk on Crestwood Avenue at about 10 PM last night, I saw a herd of eight deer cross the street; they moved into a small patch of woods that I judged to be just below Stamps’ house on Pinnacle; if they continued on that course they might have ended up crossing Pinnacle right by our own house. I spotted the deer, moving across the lighted street like gray-brown ghosts, just as I turned onto Crestwood from Greenaway. [...] The first several deer, crossing the street perhaps fifty feet ahead of me, surprised me so that I stopped in my tracks, unbelieving, seeking to understand what I was seeing. [...]

Motorcycles through streets, or bicycles. [...]

[...] Ramshackle, stilted from the back but level at the front to the street. [...]

[...] I was on a side street, two blocks from the printing plant where I work. In the dream I sat waiting for some little time for the light to turn green, giving me access to the main highway, Lake Street. I seldom take this route in actuality, since this particular light is set to favor the heavy flow of traffic on Lake Street. [...]

[...] I then found myself traveling down this particular side street, approaching the light in question, but without remembering the dream to this moment.

I have a connection with Martha and water, perhaps because you told me she lived on Grand Island, or perhaps this is an indication of a street name such as Lake Avenue, Water Street, etc.

Yet you may be straddling time in such an instance, perceiving, say, the room as it existed in the 1700’s, and the street as it exists in your present. [...] The car may disappear before your eyes, to be replaced by an animal, or the whole street may suddenly turn into a field. [...] Yet you may be suddenly perceiving the street, and the field that existed before it, and the images may be transposed one upon the other.