“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Although Jane had slept she was still tired. While she was talking to me our cat Willy lay purring on her lap. Abruptly at 8:57 the session began. Jane stood up, dumping Willy to the floor. She began to dictate in a fairly strong voice; her eyes darkened as usual. And Willy began to tag after her as she paced back and forth.)

(Willy, chasing after Jane, attempted to wrap himself around her leg. I could hear his claws against the cloth of her slacks. Although he lost his grip, he leaped after her leg again and gave a loud meow.)

(Jane, not interrupting her delivery, had shaken loose from Willy’s most persistent assaults several times by now. This seemed to make him try to tackle her all the harder. He gave voice to several loud cries and finally succeeded in anchoring himself upon one of Jane’s legs. His ears were back. Jane paused and picked him up. Quickly she tossed him into the bathroom and closed the door.

(End at 9:27. Jane had no forewarning that Seth would come in so strong to begin the session, she said. She was immediately fully dissociated, although she remembered the trouble with Willy. She said that one moment she was talking to me, and the next she was on her feet dictating.

[...] Our old cat, Willy One, died last November 5. A few days later we obtained Willy Two from Stray Haven in Waverly, New York. [...] Now Willy Two is about half grown. [...] Seth’s voice boomed out loudly for the last paragraph above—and as it did so young Willy instantly snapped to attention.

[...] Our 16-year-old cat, Willy, had first shown signs of illness last summer. [...] As Jane worked on “Unknown” Reality, Willy often lay on her lap, and we felt his approaching death with heavy hearts of our own.

(The weekend following Willy’s death, though, Jane insisted that we get a “new” kitten at once. She was afraid that if we didn’t, she, at least, would never have another pet — so we found “Willy Two” at an area humane society. [...]

[...] The courageous acquiescence of his death made us feel humble and ignorant — and in awe of nature’s mysteries — because certainly Willy died with a kind of absolute trust that people find most difficult to achieve. [...]

Your kind of psychological reality is therefore implied in my own, and mine in yours, even as your kind of reality is implied in that of Willy Two (our kitten) — and his in yours.

(While we had a quick snack I asked her if she thought the recent strange behavior of our cat, Willy, could stem from his reactions to our own psychic states. [...] Early this month Willy had picked up a case of fleas that was stubbornly resisting treatment. [...]

(Willy was outside now, in a light rain that had begun a couple of hours ago. [...] No Willy. [...]

(I asked that Seth comment upon Willy’s behavior, if he cared to, after dictation. [...]

[...] “Then over here, immediately available, is Seth on you and me and Willy. [...]

[...] As session time arrived our cat Willy also became quite active. [...] Willy rushed several of them, even climbing up the screens at times.

(Willy had become increasingly active chasing insects. [...] At first Jane stepped around him; finally, just beside my chair, she knelt, brushed Willy aside, and tried to pick up the insect he had been toying with. [...]

(Now, Willy had deserted the torn carton. [...] Jane then remained still and quiet while I once again got up; this time I put Willy in another room and shut the door.)

[...] Jane was dissociated until Willy nipped her. [...] Just before Jane began dictating again we let Willy into the room again, to see how he would behave. [...]

(Willy by now had made Jane cry out in vexation at his attacks; his claws were sharp upon her bare feet. I lay my paper aside, scooped up Willy and deposited him in another room behind a closed door. [...]

[...] At the same time our cat Willy began to cry and try grasping at Jane’s legs and ankles. [...]

[...] Willy bothered her immediately, she said; yet at the same time she was more dissociated than she had thought possible under the circumstances.

(At 8:10 our cat Willy behaved in a most peculiar fashion. [...] Willy was sleeping in the closet. All was quiet when suddenly Willy burst out of the closet in a mad scramble, his nails sliding on the bare floor. [...]

(Jane was reading in the living room, and Willy startled her. [...] Yet Willy spent at least five minutes making a careful survey of the studio; he remained in a very jumpy mood until just before the session began.

[...] Willy lay sleeping now on the divan. [...]

[...] And Willy slept through it all, on the divan.)

[...] Jane had opened some fresh food for Willy, and while he ate in our very small kitchen she began putting the groceries away. [...] Jane was kneeling, reaching into a cupboard, and Willy was momentarily trapped behind her. [...] We had never seen Willy behave this way before, and in a few moments he was as friendly and calm as usual, and resumed eating.

(Even as Seth spoke through Jane, Willy uttered a loud meow. [...] It was some time before Willy finally relaxed and slept on the chair.

(I had mentioned asking Seth about Einstein’s theories during last break, and we had also mentioned our cat, Willy.)

[...] Jane was holding Willy. [...]

[...] I told her I’d taken the break because I was still worried about Willy.

Now: Give us a moment, for Willy.

[...] Now he has sent Willy out as a testing device, and the cat does not know exactly what has happened.

Willy likes to go out, but he is not used to being out all of the time. [...]

[...] Jane laughed that she’d have made it four times in a row if Willy hadn’t interfered.

(Incidentally, Willy One died on November 5, last year.)

[...] The day before Willy (One) died, his expectations were no different than they were when he was a kitten. [...]

My heartiest regards and a fond good evening to you, and (pointing to Willy Two, who was jammed up against my left leg and elbow as I tried to write) to your friend there.

[...] You are both in a good period of transition, and Willy is showing you the nature of healing. [...]

(Our cat Willy was injured, evidently by a car, a week ago. [...]

(Willy now jumped up once more. [...] I pulled Willy backward. [...] If Willy’s scratches hurt she gave no sign. [...]

[...] Our cat Willy had several times jumped up on Jane’s lap as she spoke. [...]

[...] She did remember something scratching her, and it developed that Willy had drawn a few spots of blood.

(Our cat, Willy, was curled up sleeping in a chair that happened to be in back of the rocker Jane sat in as she spoke for Seth. At this moment Willy suddenly vaulted from the chair, instantly alert it seemed in a second. [...] Willy prowled about the legs of the chair briefly, then jumped back up in it and once again curled up.

[...] Willy’s actions however hadn’t interrupted Seth.)

(As we sat talking I asked Jane what she remembered about Willy’s strange actions. [...]

[...] Our cat, Willy, suddenly jumped up into Jane’s lap — just as he’d done in the last session. [...] Willy jumped down.)

[...] Willy had begun to act up again, so I deposited him in another room and closed the door. [...] She had a vague memory of the near-shout I’d directed at Willy. [...]

(Our cat, Willy, had jumped up into Jane’s lap. [...] As I got up she lifted Willy herself and dropped him to the floor.

(This is the first time in many sessions that Willy has paid any attention to Jane during a session. [...] Willy, he said, would get used to his presence eventually and show no reaction; this has been the case now for well over a year.)

(Jane said she was aware of Willy climbing up into her lap, and that the cat’s presence might have interfered with her delivery had he remained there.

[...] To use the time I let our other cat, Willy, in the back hall door. After Willy went into the apartment, with my help, Rooney finally ambled out the back way. [...]

(Our cat, Willy, now jumped up in Jane’s lap. [...]

(Again Willy jumped up into Jane’s lap, and again she put him down without leaving trance.)

[...] The reply was that Willie’s very acute senses picked up Seth’s presence just before session time. He told us that the cat’s behavior would change as Willie became more accustomed to the situation. A month or so later, Willie became himself again. [...]

During the first six months or so of the sessions, our cat, Willie, began behaving in a most unsociable manner. [...] We were getting ready to begin, and Willie was sleeping in the bedroom closet. [...]

[...] Once again Jane’s trance was broken when our cat, Willy, jumped up into her lap. [...] Actually Willy doesn’t interrupt us very often; but now I made a mental note that after this we’d go back to our old routine, and put him in another room before session time. Willy used to react strongly to these sessions when they began in 1963. [...]

[...] Billy was a replacement for our previous cat, Willy (who’d died in November 1976 at the age of 16), and we’d found him at an animal shelter the next weekend after Willy’s death; as far as having a pet to love went, we’d thought ourselves “set” for a number of years. At first we’d called the newcomer Willy Two, but soon automatically shortened that to Billy.

[...] I hadn’t gone after him: The ground was frozen so I couldn’t bury him in the back yard beside Willy, and the veterinarian had agreed to dispose of the remains for us.

We’d felt the same way when Willy had died three years ago, and now — as she had then — Jane said sadly: “If I could answer our questions about that cat’s death, maybe I could answer our questions about everything….”

[...] While she was delivering the material our cat, Willy, jumped up on her lap and began to playfully pull and tug at her wool sweater. Jane did not appear to be bothered by this, but since Willy kept it up I finally dislodged him rather than take the chance of him interrupting Jane. [...] This is the first time Willy has paid any attention to Jane for many sessions.