“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

“Who knows?” I said. Later I started a poem on the idea, but couldn’t follow it through. “I can believe that almost anything is possible, theoretically or … philosophically,” I said. “When I think of the same thing in practical terms, apply it to life, that’s when I pull my horns in.”

So the first spring of the sessions came, a cold bright March. Miss Cunningham’s apartment door became a stimulus to my constant questions. Every time I passed it, I wondered again: Was she transferring her consciousness to another level of reality? Would she survive death when it came, in meaningful terms? And behind all these questions there was the big one: Was Seth really a personality who had survived death? And would I really ever know?

If there’s anything I like to see
It’s a bunch of pudgy God-fearing grown men at it again,
Shooting down the starlings.
I mean, crazy man. Go, go, go.
Why not have a band play and give balloons away?
There’s nothing like killing birds
To clean up the business section.
We could feature a Starling Day, for our centennial celebration,
Such elation as the city fathers
And other pot-bellied elders
Did their best to keep the city clean.
We could give ice cream away to the kids who killed the most,
The hosts of observers could yell the cheer:
“Oh, it takes such courage and it takes such brawn
To drop the blackbirds on the County House lawn.”

The reason is rather apparent: If you know that a situation is ‘imaginary,’ you are not going to come to grips with it. This way, you have your actors taking the situation as it seems to be but looking about in amazement now and then to wonder how they got where they are, who constructed the sets and so forth. They do not realize that the whole thing is self-created, nor should they in the main, since the urgency to solve problems would dissolve.

Then the screen door opened. Dr. Levine, Miss Cunningham’s doctor, came out on the porch. He stood talking for a moment with a woman who remained inside. I thought: “I might as well ask him about Miss Cunningham anyway, regardless of what’s going on.” So I waited; in a moment, the doctor came down the steps. I walked over to him and said, “Hi Sam. Could I talk to you for a minute?”