“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

‘The appearance of the old house stands for our ordinary physical reality — but its high location and closed shutters prevent me from looking inside it, into another reality; the negligee represents my knowledge that Jane is in that new dimension. Our meeting is her message to me that she is well, rejuvenated, with her abilities and personality intact after her death. My reluctance to fully return her hugs is a sign that I’m not yet ready to join her. Her youth also stands for the plasticity of time.

It seems incredible to me that my wife, Jane Roberts, has been dead for more than thirteen months. It’s late October 1985 as I begin this Preface for her Seth, Dreams and Projection of Consciousness. As I have informed many correspondents, Jane died at 2:08 A.M. on Wednesday, September 5, 1984, after spending 504 consecutive days in a hospital in Elmira, N. Y. I was with her when she died. The immediate causes of her death were a combination of protein depletion, osteomyelitis, and soft-tissue infections. These conditions arose out of her long-standing rheumatoid arthritis. I’ll be discussing Jane’s illnesses — her “symptoms” — much more thoroughly in other work. Indeed, I plan to eventually write a full-length biography of her, and am doing research for that project now.

As soon as I took Jim Young up on his word that I could make whatever statement I want to about Jane’s work, I knew that this Preface would contain relatively little about Seth, Dreams and Projection of Consciousness itself, and I wrote to Jim about this. The book stands perfectly well on its own. These notes, then, will contain material not only about Jane, but my own involvement with her, her work, and her death. I trust that even though physically she’s no longer with me, my wife agrees with my choices, for she helped me learn that the one truly unique thing I have to offer the world is my own creation of it.

‘The glowing, very beautiful and alive grass also represents Jane’s new reality. The bridge arching over the lawn symbolizes another connective between that universe and my physical one. Jane doesn’t ask me to cross the bridge now. I think that the structure also stands for the ‘psychological bridge’ upon which she met Seth during her sessions with him. (Seth wasn’t in this experience, however.)

You had better stand up and move around. [...] There is no reason why you cannot stand sometimes to write, if it is more comfortable. [...]

[...] Frequently he took notes on the old TV set, standing up, and sometimes he sat in the new rocker.

[...] Once I had such a severe attack of back cramps that I couldn’t stand.

[...] It will finally understand, however, that it will not be dumped aside but taken along as itself, independent as always, to stand beside other independent egos each of whom represents facets of the entire entity …

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. [...]

[...] She was standing at the sink washing dishes and looking out at the ‘dreary’ flat landscape and at their pickup truck parked there. [...]

The trees in the forest
Stand secret and silent,
Their voices suspended
In lungs of leaves
That only can whisper
Of dreams held dormant,
That breathe only once
In a thousand years.

[...] Standing there, silently, I felt Seth near. [...]