“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

My first conscious contact with Jane took place less than two hours after she had died. After making certain funeral arrangements for her by telephone, before leaving the hospital, I drove home at about 4:00 A.M.

‘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.

[...] Psychological time operates during sleep and quiet hours of consciousness. Now, in dreams you may have the feeling of experiencing many hours or even days. These days or hours of psychological experience are not recorded by the physical body and are outside of the physical time camouflage. [...]

[...] As you can experience days or hours within its framework in the dream state and not age for the comparable amount of physical time, so as you develop, you will be able to rest and be refreshed within psychological time even when you are awake. [...] Within any given five minutes of clock time, for example, you may find an hour of resting which is independent of clock time.

By now, the sessions were running from seventeen to twenty typed, double-spaced pages and they lasted anywhere from two and a half to three hours. [...]

[...] The session lasted three hours. [...]

[...] In a half hour or so how would I suddenly find myself delivering such off-beat material in a voice that didn’t seem to be my own?

[...] Where had the extra energy come from … after three hours of dictation as Seth? [...]

[...] I could run on for hours, but you would probably catch me. [...]

[...] Then, I am sure, you will see the similarity between this alone sort of inner psychological time, experienced often in waking hours, and the sense of time experienced often in a dream. [...]

[...] After supper, I did the dishes and worked on my poetry for an hour, and then Rob got out the board. [...]

[...] The session was held on the evening of January 2, 1964 and lasted three hours. [...]

[...] The session lasted for an hour and a half; my voice was halting, with many pauses. [...]

The entire session ran three hours, and most of it was devoted to the ego and the subconscious and to their relationship to health and illness. [...]

[...] As Ruburt told you, I was here at the regular hour last night and aware of the happenings, and perfectly willing to let the session go, understanding the circumstances.

[...] Actually, Seth spoke steadily for an hour before our first break. [...]

[...] It was a terrific change for me to suddenly have to rely on someone else — even Rob — to tell me what “I” had been saying for a period of two or three hours.