“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(At this time Jane, as Seth, stood up and picked up our cat Willy. [...] Her voice was loud also, and Willy immediately squirmed out of her arms and darted away, his ears back. [...] Actually, Seth said, Willy knows him well, having grown used to his appearances. Many many sessions ago Willy had occasionally reacted to Seth’s appearance, usually just before a session began, or at the very beginning itself.

(At one time our cat Willy became sick on the rug, and Seth broke from the discussion to enable Jane to take care of Willy.

[...] Willy, our cat, jumped up into her lap. [...] On inspiration, she simultaneously stroked the air beside Willy with her other hand — and found that sensation to be almost as rich.

[...] Now, her already acute hearing began to magnify sounds — the rustle of cellophane as she opened a pack of cigarettes, the quality of my voice as I talked to our cat, Willy, the noise of my handling the newspaper. [...]

[...] “Everything looks so great: you, the room, Willy, but I think I can have a session. [...]

(Because of his particular disposition, Rooney had furnished ideal companionship for our other cat, Willy, who is several years older, and Jane and I had often speculated about the special relationship between the two. Willy had always been the boss. [...]

[...] There is one other character to be mentioned here: Willy, the cat, a beloved monster who is now sleeping.

(Willy was sleeping — snoring, actually — on top of our old-fashioned TV set. [...]

[...] In this book I hope to show the constant interactions that occur between all units of consciousness, the communication that leaps beyond the barriers of species; and in some of these discussions, we will use Willy as a case in point.

[...] Our cat, Willy, now became active as break wore on, and as he has done for most recent sessions. Willy began to stalk through the apartment, crying out; it was a cool night and no bugs were to be seen. Willy behaved in quite a scary fashion, looking all about him.

[...] Our cat Willy was quiet for a change as session time approached. [...]

(From my studio at the back of the apartment came Willie’s cry. [...]

[...] After Marilyn left Jane and I discovered that both of us had been alarmed by the child in some vague way; his actions had been quite overtly strong, we thought, involving such things as pretending to kill our cat Willy, taking swings at Jane and me, etc. [...]

[...] Willy’s hiding under the blue chair or rather, just his head—his rear end is sticking out. [...]

[...] Begin to pick up his Willie again, for example. [...]

[...] Willie is our cat.)

[...] Our cat Willy had been kicking up a fuss, so at 9:56 I got up to put him in a back room. [...]

[...] She did remember the disturbance Willy had created however. [...]

[...] Willy had been sick rather often during the past weeks. [...] Since we were so fond of Willy, we had thought we were contributing adequately before the sick spell.)

(“Why has our cat Willy been sick so often lately?”)

[...] Identity is not carried willy-nilly, but holds its own. [...]

(Here, our cat Willy jumped up on Jane’s lap as she sat while dictating. [...] Jane did not appear to be bothered, but to be sure I lay my notes aside and put Willy in another room. [...]

[...] What Ruburt said about the beloved monster (Willy, our cat) is true.

(Although as of this writing I don’t think Willy has fully recovered as yet. [...]

(Our cat Willy had been more or less peaceful during the first delivery, [...] Willy began to chase bugs. [...]

[...] We let Willy out of the other room; ignoring us, he curled up in a chair. [...]

[...] By 8:50 PM, Willy was once again prowling through the apartment, both alert and stealthy at the same time. [...]

(Thinking this point over after Monday’s session, I did not recall Willy making any fuss, except for the one time detailed on page 211, during the session.)

(“You said earlier that when Willy and the bug created each other, they saw solidity in infrared. [...]

Ruburt’s father represented the other extreme, with no firm purpose, seemingly driven willy-nilly, and accomplishing nothing. [...]

He was also afraid of spontaneity not related to creativity because of his feeling that his father went willy-nilly and produced nothing. [...]

[...] Our cat Willy moved about the dark apartment in a normal manner, apparently not sensing anything strange to him. [...]

People are not simply swung willy-nilly by one negative suggestion or another, however. [...]

[...] He was willing however to trade these for several years of additional physical life, in which he also learned for the first time to relate to gentleness; even to be on terms with another cat, and Willy in his way served as a mentor.

[...] When you are sleeping, therefore, your consciousness turns itself in many of these directions, often perceiving, willy-nilly, bits and pieces of reality that are available to it at its different stages. [...]

When you are proficient you will not be swept willy-nilly into other stages of consciousness as you sleep, but will be able to understand and direct these activities. [...]