“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

I couldn’t believe it when I realized that my wife had been dead for a week. As I lived and worked in it, our house looked the same as it ever had. In spite of my sorrow, I presented a cheerful face to the world; I talked and joked, and did everything I was supposed to do. I also discovered what must be a very common phenomenon: Those who knew of Jane’s passing became instantly self-conscious when we met. I felt their embarrassment at their damned-up sympathies, and their fear of the same thing happening to them. They didn’t want to hurt me further. Amazingly, I found myself offering comfort to them, to help them surmount such barriers so that we could talk. My visitors reminded me anew of how private an event Jane’s death is for me, yet how universal it is. How many uncounted quadrillions of times has that transference from “life” to “nonlife” taken place just on our planet alone? And I don’t believe that anyone has tried to cope with questions of life and death any more valiantly than Jane did.

‘It was a warm starlit night,’ I later wrote to a friend, ‘just beautiful, and as I got out of the car and looked up into that depthless sky I felt Jane right there, above the car. She’d followed me home. “Thank you, Jane,” I said aloud, and went into the house.

‘Oh, sweetheart, if only you were here with me to see this,’ I said aloud to Jane. And as I talked to her I suddenly found myself crying for her again there in the semi-dark night while the wind seethed and roared. Deep wrenching sobs began in my legs and stomach and rose up through my chest. I tried to keep talking to her, but could not. ‘It must be better where you are,’ I finally gasped, ‘but you should see this. It’s so wonderful …’ And as I spoke I intuitively understood that the motion of the wind was an excellent creative metaphor for the motion of Jane’s soul, that its cool feel upon my face could be the physical version of her caring for me ‘from where she is.’ The storm of my grief eased after a while, but the wind and the light rain continued. I dozed. When I woke half an hour later the wind had diminished a great deal. I felt drained. I went into the kitchen for a glass of water. Was Jane’s soul resting from its earlier great commotion, or had she moved away for the moment while exploring other aspects of her new reality that were perhaps out of range to us earthbound creatures? I crawled back into my bag and slept until dawn.

Obviously, my life has been enriched in numerous and unexpected ways by knowing Jane, and I feel myself still growing, still asking questions. I was blessed, then — a situation that in my youth I’d hardly dared hope for in conventional terms, yet had been open enough in my beliefs to create. The cave that I’d felt open up inside me after Jane’s death is closing and healing itself, while leaving its inevitable psychic imprint.

[...] We had already gone into the bedroom when I felt drawn to go out into the front room to my desk. Standing there, silently, I felt Seth near. [...] I knew that I felt that Seth was near, but, intellectually, I was full of questions. [...]

“Well, okay, ever onward,” I said, because despite it all, I felt it foolish to look a gift horse in the mouth. I also felt that in each of us there is a deep connection with “magical” elements of our nature—magical in that they rise like poetic inspiration, filling the mundane world with a special living, personal meaning. [...]

[...] As a psychic, I felt on very shaky ground for a while. [...]

[...] I felt at these times as if new information was being “popped into my head,” or rather, into my whole being. [...]

[...] She felt a sharp pain in her chest, and died of a heart attack. [...]

[...] Suddenly I felt giddy and full of fun, struck again by the incongruity of the whole affair. [...]

Using the inner senses, it would be as if, instead of seeing the various houses, our man felt them. [...]

This sense would permit our man to feel the basic sensations felt by the tree, so that instead of looking at it, his consciousness would expand to contain the experience of what it is to be a tree. [...]

[...] And yet at that point, I felt duty-bound to question my own experiences, Seth and the sessions because I refused to hide in self-delusions.

Suddenly I felt a strong jolt at the top of my skull; the next instant, I found myself standing on the front steps of an ordinary house. [...]

[...] Suddenly I remembered the jolt I’d felt at the base of my neck … had I had an attack of some sort? [...]

[...] At that moment, I felt another sharp jolt at the back of my neck and instantly found myself back in my bedroom, fully alert and awake.

But my mind felt crowded out of itself,
By thoughts not its own,
As if someone were settling down in my skull
That I hadn’t invited in.

[...] And yet, inside our small, lighted living room, we both felt we were making important inroads, gaining invaluable insights and finding a point of sanity amid a chaotic world.

[...] Yet I felt these shapes were highly significant, only intrusions of other realities that were invisible but always active.

[...] I felt myself climbing. [...]

I also sensed, or felt, a great chute or trough or pathway of some kind that reached down into me from above me, or at least from outside of me. [...] I even thought that perhaps I was having some sort of physical attack, though I felt no pain.

[...] At the same time, I felt worse. I had not been helping Jane and felt guilty about it and was angry at Miss C’s relatives. [...]

[...] I had the odd feeling that the sensation was related both to the subject of conversation, and to some kind of message or communication I felt within me.

Looking back now, the next morning, I think the possibility crossed my mind that some psychic effects were being felt, but, actually, I was so startled that I didn’t think much of anything.

[...] I visualized myself walking across it and felt the wooden flooring beneath my feet. I felt myself walk beneath the signal light at the far end of the bridge and let myself continue on along the street. [...]

[...] For another, afterwards I felt surrounded by a residue of Seth’s good-humored affection. [...]

[...] Rob said that his fingers felt as if they were falling off. [...]

“I really felt that someone else was here, that Seth was looking out the window,” Rob said, when the session was over. [...]

[...] Such invisibilities as humidity, radioactivity and all electrical values are felt as quite real things to your tree.