“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

I began writing more and more poetry, quite caught up with many of the ideas that Seth was discussing. Actually I did a lot of scribbled poetry notes sitting on the side of the bed with the windows open and the fan full blast, trying to take my mind off the nearly steady 90-degree or higher temperature. Sometimes I thought that if Rob said it was a terrific day just one more time, I’d scream.

As with so many instances, these weren’t esoteric startling visions, but a kind of in-between event, difficult to identify, or one like the following, that was second-handed. On August 7th at supper time a young fan appeared unexpectedly at the door. I’ll call him John. Rob grinned when he saw him; John had been here twice before (once a year), he was good-humored, good-looking, eager, healthy and strong. He was engaging, and knew it. We talked to him for an hour (while, alas, dinner got cold), but he was one of those people pleasantly gifted in a variety of fields who hadn’t yet settled down to concentrate on the development of any one or two abilities in particular. He was like some kid admiring a box of chocolates; each piece representing one of his own talents, wondering which piece to nibble on first. Somewhere in the conversation, with a smiling sense of wonder, he told us what had happened as he drove through Elmira on the way to our house.