“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Now—some remarks generally, having to do with the kinds of villages in Italy that so took your interest. There were many such villages in the mountains in the overall times of Nebene and your Roman soldier, and they were much in character like the villages recently destroyed in the earthquake. They dealt with a different framework of consciousness—one that is somewhat now out of character with your kind. I mentioned that modern psychology actually short-changed you, trying to fit itself into Darwinian beliefs. Those Italian villages exemplified really a kind of consciousness, or an orientation of consciousness, that existed before modern psychology and Darwinian belief: a framework of consciousness and experience that was overall similar in the recent past and in the time of the Romans—one, in other words, that existed up into the present.

(10:09.) The entire structure was beginning to topple, however, and the poverty was overtaking the damned. There are many reasons, but mainly the relationship between the village people and the rest of the world had strained too far, stretched too far. (Pause.) The Roman soldier had been in several skirmishes in such a village, stealing livestock for his companions. Nebene had hidden out in one such village from the Romans. The farmers protected him. So there are different emotional connections along those lines.

(This afternoon Jane told me that she’d been picking up from Seth about the poor Italian villages that had been destroyed in the great earthquake of November 23. As noted, I’m quite interested in that area, though not only in our present time frame.

Even though those village people lived in your era, however, they were largely untouched by modern technology, and so kept to their own ways. They and the land seemed one, sharing the present seasons, the daily work—but more than that, their fathers and their forefathers and usually many past generations of given families came from the same area. People lived in houses shared by their elders that had earlier been shared by their elders backward through family lines, so that daily experience and family incident was not nearly as restrained to the present in your terms.

(The name of the village was Levonshire. [...] The people there used to get food also from another village farther north. [...] But yes, the people in the smaller villages ate them. [...]

[...] The village was right by the sea. It was the only cobbler’s shop in quite a few villages around there, and there was a lot of community bartering going on. [...]

[...] The boy Albert was too young to take his place when he died, so the village didn’t have a cobbler for a couple of years. [...]

[...] There were lots of cousins in the village. [...]

[...] The village was right by the sea. The cobbler’s shop was the only one around, though there were other villages. [...]

[...] The boy, Albert, was too young to take over the shop, and for a couple of years the village had no cobbler, and the boy was a fisherman. [...] She was a cousin of Sarah Wellington’s. Most of the people in the village were related in one way or another; they had no other place to go.”

[...] They had fancier breads there than in the village. [...] The village wasn’t sunny, and they kept the windows closed. [...]

“Do you know the name of the village?” Rob asked.

([The Gallaghers:] “One of the most interesting shops we stopped in was an Army-Navy type store in Greenwich Village. [...] [Note: The Gallaghers also told us that the rage in the village is to wear such uniforms.])

([The Gallaghers:] “In the East Village we stopped at a very interesting long narrow establishment with a long bar up the right side of the rooms and tables all along on the left. [...]

[...] A widowed man with no children, from a nearby village, came here to help on the farm. He fell in love with the daughter, and despite her condition, took her to his home village.

[...] The woman, in a past life, was once a man (pause), Italian, in a hill village. [...]

[...] (Pause.) There is an historical connection with the village, or close area nearby; and not too far away a fort, a Roman fort, within fifty miles I believe of the town.

(Ruburt.) “I sense somebody beyond that (wheat field) coming from the village that we talked about earlier; and I sense that you do not want to know that they are there.”

(One week later, in class of January 21, Sue told of a recurring dream which she had for some years—a dream in which she had stood in a field of wheat or cornfield was afire and she feared for the safety of the village.)

[...] Their contents are embodied in the two papers that are reproduced below; the first one, from the library, she received before placing a call to The Village Voice; the second, from Seth, came through after she made that call, and called a few people about visiting us next Friday night.

[...] I’d say that to some extent at least its content flows from the proposed interview with a reporter from The Village Voice, a contact made with the business manager at WELM in town, and so forth—hardly accidental, we think, that these events connected with publicity, her work, etc., come into our awareness at this time. [...]

(After finishing the library material, Jane called The Village Voice on impulse, but ended up feeling she didn’t do well: She didn’t get to speak to Jim Poett, who was not there, or to his editor. [...]

(“Well, it’s certainly no accident that the interview thing with The Village Voice came along at this time.”)

(Bill now asked Seth if an Indian village had ever been situated over the spot where he had done most of his skin diving in Puerto Rico. [...] He thought the village there, if there had been any, would have belonged to the Carib Indians.

It was Inca, your village... [...] They set up small villages for outposts, for inland explorations...

[...] The place you refer to was just a village base to explore from... [...]

Villagers below cry,

(“A village. [...] On the upper can is the slogan “House of McCormick" and Jane wondered if she enlarged house into village.

[...] A village. [...]

[...] My question of course grew out of the first installment of the story about us and Seth that was published earlier this week in the Village Voice. [...]

The Village Voice is probably read by more creative young people, and more people in the arts, than any other New York paper. [...]

[...] So I can look into your reality, as the top of the mountain can look down to the plain and the village. The mountain peak and the village are equally legitimate.

[...] In grand ancient fashion above other more homey village-like souls, I have my own identity. [...]

Water rushes down the hillside into the valley, and there is a constant give-and-take between the village below, say, or the meadows, and the mountain. [...]

[...] Remembering what I said about families, realize also that towns and villages may also be composed of the past inhabitants of other such towns and villages, transposed with new experiences and backgrounds, as the group tries different experiments.

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. [...]

(On Friday, June 21, 1968, Jane sent the manuscript of her dream book to Parker Publishing Company Inc., Village Square Building, West Nyack, N Y. On Saturday, June 28, a card arrived from Parker with this message:

On the other hand, the decision to have the interview (for the Village Voice), to take up with Eleanor, and so forth—these events catapult old beliefs to the forefront of Ruburt’s mind—an excellent reaction, by the way—for when those beliefs are voiced and discussed then they can be understood and eventually dismissed.

(Jane’s poem is excellent, and concerns Jim Poett’s interview for the Village Voice.)

(“Can you give us the location of the town or village in England?”)

[...] I saw houses on both sides of the road in the distance, like our nearby village of Chemung.

In your time, medical men, again with great superiority, look at primitive cultures and harshly judge the villagers they think are held in the sway of witch doctors or voodooism; and yet through advertisement and organization, your doctors impress upon each individual in your culture that you must have a physical examination every six months or you will get cancer; that you must have medical insurance because you will become ill.

You are told what to look for; you are as cursed — far more — as any native in a tiny village, only you lose breasts, appendixes, and other portions of your anatomy. [...]

[...] He is a woman in a village. [...]

[...] Otherwise it is impossible to understand how for example, an 18th-century town, a 20th-century town, and an ancient village can all exist not merely at once, but also on occasion in the same (in quotes) “location.”

(Last week the second and last installment of the Village Voice article came out. [...]