“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(9:50. I was surprised that Seth suggested a break—a rarity in the sessions these days. Then Jane said that she had called for the break because she was out of cigarettes. She was giving the session while sitting in her wheeled office chair. At that time of night she wasn’t about to use her typing table as a support while she “walked” from the living room, where we were having the session, around the room divider and out into the kitchen to get her smokes; instead she remained in her chair and maneuvered herself along with her feet. I told her the session is excellent. “I see it led to something after all,” she called out.

Then somehow our conversation led me to wonder whether our cat, Billy, is color-blind, as we’ve heard most animals are. So far Billy had spent the session beside me on the couch, alternately napping and preening himself. I’d been admiring the loving care with which he’d addressed himself to each portion of his body. In the light from the lamp above and behind my right shoulder on the room divider, his greenish eyes were so beautifully colored, yet mysterious, that I found it hard to believe he can’t see color. I also asked Jane about what use the gorgeous colors of Billy’s luxurious fur are to him if he can’t appreciate those patches and stripes of sienna, black, warm gray, and pure white. Or do his colors serve other purposes for him that we’re unaware of? Intuitively, I felt that more is involved here than questions of camouflage and protection—that at the very least there must be connections between Billy and his colors in this reality and his source in a nonphysical one.⁴