“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Last night was the fifth night in a row that I’ve slept on the screened-in back porch in my new sleeping bag. I didn’t start doing this to avoid the bedroom that Jane and I had shared in the hill house for the last nine years, but because I’d always wanted to and now can. Jane is no longer here for me to be so close to, night and day, to leap to take care of when she needs me. She’d never been able to sleep on the porch — one of the reasons we’d had it added onto the house to begin with.

Who do I share this image with?
What ghost haunts this house?
I smile and reach for a cup of tea
And motions beyond my will begin.
My fingers move smoothly out
And lift the curving spoon.
With just the proper touch
They pick the china saucer up.
Yet I have nothing to do with this.
Who moves the cup? [...]

The mover, the breather, the dreamer
Shares with me this fond flesh.
He is a twin so like myself
That I cannot recognize his face.
He goes his way and I go mine.
We never meet head-on, and yet
I am aware of this ghost
Behind my every word or act.
Who moves? [...]