“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Rob had to go to the bank, so he excused himself and left just after the mailman arrived. I read the mail over. This year’s cool August air blew through the house, and I tightened my sweater. One letter in particular caught my eyes because it was from an old friend, Ed, the man who had introduced Rob and I to begin with; a man who we had lost touch with until two years ago when he’d suddenly written from Alaska.

So as I listened to our visitor (I’ll call him Larry) talk, I browsed through the letter. My thoughts went back to the years when Ed and Rob produced the detective comic strip Mike Hammer together with Micky Spillane. Then I thought of Ed’s first letter of two years ago, breaking a twenty-year-old silence, mailed from Alaska where Ed was skiing. In fact, the letter before me mentioned the Alaskan ski trip. That might have been the reference that suddenly gave me small shivers.

Some now made perfect sense. I circled numbers 1, 5 and 8 (see prediction listing) which read: “Snow ball machine, snowshoes, detective.” Surely they all applied to Ed’s letter in which he mentioned his Alaskan ski trip, and friends he had when he and Rob did the detective comic strip.

The letter itself had been in the mailman’s truck when I made my morning’s predictions.

Spring night; my first husband and I just pulled up in front of my mother’s house; the rushing sounds of a car pulling in ahead of us. Ed Robinson’s voice — the Ed of the Alaskan letter now received thirty years later, (the Ed who was then doing the detective comic strip referred to in the day’s predictions) and a stranger’s voice.

All of that came to mind this morning; not that it couldn’t have just been “coincidence” that later in the day I hear from Ed — after making three predictions that seemed to apply to him. But surely there is a point where feelings themselves are meanings; where the heart’s evidence recognizes intuitively what the intellect must question. And I know that those memories and thoughts were connected with my later predictions and Ed’s letter in the noon mail. I’d been reacting to Ed’s letter before its arrival.

1, 5: In today’s mail letter from Ed Robinson — Probably our 3rd?

By this time it was somewhat later in the day. Ruburt and Joseph ate lunch, and the mail arrived. There was a letter written the morning before (on Friday) by the same friends that had been so much in Ruburt’s mind. They mentioned going on a trip (on Saturday), and specifically asked if they could visit that same afternoon. From the way the letter was written, it seemed as if the friends — call them Peter and Polly — had already started on their journey that (Saturday) morning, and would stop in Elmira on their return much later toward evening. There was no time to answer the letter, of course.