“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(4:22. I touched her spots on her neck and head—and her head went back and forth almost violently again. “I don’t know what to do,” Jane said as she rested. “I can feel Seth around, but every time I do, I start moving again.” I said the motion came first as far as I knew. She drank a little more cranberry juice and had a cigarette while I worked with the mail.

(When Seth came through Jane’s Seth voice was the best I’ve heard it yet. It had a strong undertone, was deeper, and definitely gave me the feeling that there was a lot of potential power there that she wasn’t releasing because of the hospital environment.)

(“Afternoon, Seth.”)

(4:41 PM. “The colors in the room look better.” Jane said. “I felt that he could really blast off with that voice. I told her that for the first time I too had sensed that terrific potential in the Seth voice—another excellent sign.

(I’d felt sad, staring down at the striped brown, black and white body, and remembered Seth’s material about how both parties in any death share the experience. The cats obviously felt no remorse at all—nor should they. It was a tiny part of “life.” I was sure I knew how the chipmunk had gotten caught: He’d squeezed under the back porch screened-in door looking for food. I kept a box of cat goodies out there to give black dog [as I call her, not knowing her name] a snack in the early morning. One of the cats had caught the chipmunk on the porch. I’d seen this happen a couple of times before.

(“The funny thing is,” I told Jane, “there’s a bowl of sunflower seeds in the garage, near the door where chipmunks can squeeze in, but they haven’t been touched for days....” She suggested I ask Seth again for something on the little drama.