“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

SESSION 435

(The regular session was scheduled for this evening, but did not develop. These notes are from those I made Wednesday evening, but cannot be strictly verbatim because of the very nature of the experience. It will be necessary to add very little from memory though, since the notes are quite complete.

(The notes will ramble somewhat; to save time little effort will be made to condense them or make them strictly chronological. They are for future reference mainly. We believe the events described to be quite authentic, but will have to wait for verification with no idea of how long this may take. Too, no verification may ever be obtained. For a similar episode, see the Jerry Kramerick seance, of January 13, 1968, described in the 391st session. [In that instance, the data could be verified at once.]

(At our usual supper hour of 5 PM, I thought I noticed Jane quieter than usual. Jane said she became aware of her mood shortly after the meal. At first I thought she was tired and simply didn’t want a session, after the intense weekend we had just spent with Tam Mossman, from Prentice-Hall. As the evening progressed I changed my mind.

(At 9:45 she told me to get the Seth notebook, that we might have a session after all. Her subjective feelings were quite intensified. She felt “intensities” now in various parts of the room—notably by the built-in bookcase at the far end of the room from the windows. She thought Seth’s entity might be looking us over. Various parts of the room seemed to acquire significance in ways she couldn’t explain. Willy, our cat, asleep in a chair near me, wasn’t involved. The intensity traveled; now it was located in the blue wine decanter given to us by our friend Pete from San Diego, California.

(The colors in the room by now seemed very brilliant to Jane—pulsating. She didn’t necessarily feel Seth around, but could have held a session, she said. The top of her head “felt funny” to her. Now the eyes in the oil head I recently finished of the discarnate artist, Van Elver, seemed alive to her; the portrait hangs on a bookcase wall in our living room. Jane again walked through the apartment. Looking out at the kitchen from the studio, she said the path to the kitchen looked like a “charged pathway” to her.

(“Just forget it, then,” I said. By now I was remembering the Jerry Kramerick seance.[See Session 391 in Volume 8 again.]