“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

During the rest of that September in 1963, I reread the “Idea Construction” manuscript many times, trying to understand it and hoping to recapture some of the feelings I had had during its delivery. Now and then, flashing insights came to me in response, but more often than not, I just sat there, frustrated. My intellect just could not get beyond certain points, and I knew it.

I ran into the kitchen. “Do you want some now?”
Rob shook his head.
“There’s something that wants you back at the board.
You’d better sit down again.”

Now as seasons come and go,
He visits twice a week,
From worlds that have no wind or snow,
But still have promises to keep.

As the days passed, I was nervously aware of her, wandering through the hallways, and made it a point to look in on her now and then. But we were so taken up with our own affairs that I saw her infrequently.

By now, we were also trying other experiments for my book, which I was writing during the mornings. And in our 12th Session Seth gave what I still think of as a cornerstone that served as a preliminary framework upon which the rest of The Seth Material would be built. I have quoted parts of it in other books, yet the analogy Seth gave us is such an excellent introduction to the interior universe and to his ideas that it is almost indispensable. Each time I read it, I gain new insights.

Not only are we on different sides of the same wires, but we are at the same time either above or below, according to your viewpoint. And if you consider the wires as forming cubes … then the cubes could also fit one within the other, without disturbing the inhabitants of either cube one iota — and these cubes are also within cubes, which are themselves within cubes, and I am speaking now only of the small particle of space taken up by your plane and mine.

Again, now think in terms of your plane, bounded by its small spindly set of wires, and my plane on the other side. These, as I have said, have also boundless solidarity and depth, yet in usual terms, to one side the other is transparent. You cannot see through, but the two planes move through each other constantly.

I hope you see what I have done here. I have initiated the idea of motion, for true transparency is not the ability to see through but to move through. This is what I mean by fifth dimension. Now remove the structure of the wires and cubes. Things behave as if the wires and cubes were there, but these are only constructions necessary, even to those on my plane, in order to make this comprehensible to our faculties, the faculties of any entity.

“It makes more sense to me than anything I’ve ever read,” I said. “But where did it come from? Now, in my ordinary state of consciousness, I can only appreciate it or even criticize it. The source is gone.”

I’m rather embarrassed now by the fact that we turned the lights off, since our sessions and classes are always conducted in normal light. In those days, though, we didn’t know how to proceed, and we had read that such affairs were conducted in near-darkness. Rob and I sat at my wooden table with only a small electric candle lit. After quite some time, I began to see pictures, and as Rob took notes, I spoke aloud in my own voice, describing what I was seeing and experiencing. This was the resulting monologue:

I had been seeing everything that I’d been describing, and now the name just appeared in my head. “Levonshire. It was fewer than three hundred people, on the northeast coast of England. The people also got some of their food from another village further north. For some reason, the land was better there.”

“What do you see now?” Rob asked.

“Would you know it if you saw it in physical life now? If you took a trip to England?” Rob asked.

“No. It’s not there now. I don’t think I’d know the spot. It was just this little inlet, with the rocky hills and not much grass. It wasn’t a seaport. Big ships couldn’t get in close. There was just enough room for the little boats to go out for fish …”

“Well. I saw the … feet of a man. He was walking along a flat, dusty, reddish road. I think he was barefoot, though now I wonder about some kind of rudimentary sandal. He had a brownish, long robe flapping about the calves of his legs. The legs were thin.”

“My experience was great,” I said. “But it was something like a moving picture I was looking at from some crazy angle. The scenes would change too. I’d be looking at that main street, and then suddenly I’d be in the hills beyond the village. Not really there like I’m in this room now … but … partially floating. Very dim at times. But your vision was quicker, more limited, but very precise.”

“Then isn’t that enough for now?” Rob said. I nodded; at the very least there was enough material for a good short story on the whole thing, I thought. Yet the village and the scenes lingered in my memory. “We’ve only been involved in this stuff a little over a month,” I said. “I’m content for now. But we’re going to have to try and check some of this out if it keeps on.”