“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

There are literally infinite numbers of sequences, faultlessly activated, that make the existence of your own world possible. I admit that it is sometimes inconceivable to me that a human being can imagine his world to be meaningless, for the very existence of one human body speaks of an almost unbelievable molecular and cellular cooperation that could hardly result through the bounty of the most auspicious works of chance.

(9:50. Jane was very relaxed the moment she came out of trance. I didn’t mention the frequent long pauses she’d been taking; she’d spent three minutes delivering the last paragraph alone. Her head moved loosely. Her eyelids fluttered. “He shouldn’t have given me the break,” she said. “This is the worst I’ve been…. I wanted to get back to two-hour sessions….” She sat quietly while I worked on this note. By “worst” she meant relaxed, of course. I told her there was no need to continue the session. “I don’t know if I can go back in, I’m so….” Her head kept dipping down. She lit a cigarette. “I’m just waiting.”

She answered the question in her own way. “That was my fault, though—that was charged material, he would have said more. Stuff about illness is still pretty charged for me.” I thought her own physical difficulties must play a strong role here, although she didn’t say so. “It makes me mad,” Jane said quietly. “At break I could feel him getting all ready to go into Billy’s condition, and I began to get all tight inside. I didn’t tell you. Then I said to myself, ‘Seth, just go into it, that’s all.’ So why didn’t he say the cat’s going to be all right?”