“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

The bedroom in which your brother died was yellow. The sea was not far off, or at least water of a fairly large body. Downstairs was a shop owned by your brother’s father, who was not your father this time. The shop had a large sign out front with a picture of a spoon, and no lettering. Throckmorton could not write. I do not know the significance of the spoon or what kind of shop he had, though I may be able to tell you at a later date.

It is difficult for me to tell you too much about Loren. Your Jane sets up barriers. He is not, I’m afraid, her favorite relative. I’m well aware there is no blood relation between Loren and Jane. Nevertheless I’ve managed, as I always do, to speak with some clarity through your collective reluctance, prejudices and barriers. You both mean very well, and part of your own entities aids me in making contact with your present personalities.

Now Loren was a priest in the Roman Catholic church. I’m sorry, I’m not sure if this was in Wales or in France. The monastery was of gray brick. He copied old manuscripts, fussy as an old woman, and yet this methodical part of his nature there served him very well.

He and your other brother who died at 9 were in Europe for at least part of the same time, though Loren died at a fat and sassy monkish 81. He was not above dallying with shall I say fair maidens, but all in all was competent. Now as a teacher he uses the same talents he used in the past, his rather smirky tongue making up with jokes for prim silence that had suffered in the past. I see him also England 13th century, as a shepherd dying at the age of 33. He has been a male three times. The personalities which he has layered about him are not well rounded. For this reason, though this may seem strange, one-sexed personality pattern is not the best as far as incarnations are concerned.

I suppose I should consider myself lucky that you don’t request a demonstration of the tree to grow up through your living room. You will have to forgive me but I am not really irritated, dear friends, with this desire for demonstrations. Ha, if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. It is only that you are so innocent and I am so amused. You have so little conception yet of what is involved, and yet personally I found last night’s session enjoyable. Your friend however really would have intruded, in a bumbling but quite domineering manner, had I so allowed him. He is like a child begging for a piece of frosty cake, and I must admit I was tempted to shove his head in the frosting.

I like him, but after all I insist on even mental manners. That’s the trouble, you see. Consciously he had no intention of trying to dominate the session, but underneath he really wanted so much, and I don’t know him very well. You should at least seek acquaintance before you ask favors.