“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

‘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.

[...] While I was alone in the kitchen, doing the dishes, I found myself wondering if Seth might “come through” and comment on the letter. [...]

[...] I could reconcile a mental voice as a valid and quite safe mechanism of the creative subconscious, as I liked to call it — but an image next to me in the kitchen while I did the dishes? [...]

[...] After the session was over, it seemed to follow me out into the kitchen while I finished the dishes.

I ran into the kitchen. [...]

[...] He slept in the kitchen. [...]

According to what she told us, she died in the farmhouse kitchen. [...]

Later, after our company left, the sensation came back yet again as I stood in the kitchen talking to Jane. [...]