“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

It seems clear now that Seth knew all along that this would happen. The creative explosions begun with these books still erupt, for “Unknown” Reality does seem to have a life of its own, one that defies definition, and that even now serves as a springboard for new psychic and creative experience. Talk about probable realities! This manuscript seems to possess dimensions that place it — and Jane and me — in many probabilities at once. As I type its pages for the final time, I’m back at our old Water Street apartments, and in our new “hill house” at once; I’m referring to 1975 sessions and recording Seth’s dictation on his latest book as well. Sometimes I feel like saying: “One reality at a time, please.”

That wait could be a very long one. Who is to help initiate meaningful changes in our psychological and social orders? Surely Jane feels the necessity to turn aside from the selected dogmas of our time. For to her, and to me, our world’s present definitions of personality are as limited as the conventional meaning implied by the term ESP. We hope that Jane’s work can help expand such concepts.

“One late-afternoon gaggle reached nearly from horizon to horizon, in three long and very noisy V-formations. And always, one bird led each V, with the two sides of the bird ‘lettering’ trailing back quite unevenly — wobbling, flexing, shifting. What free sociable claques, I thought. Amazing, the way their honking carried back to Jane and me as we stood in the driveway. We watched the geese fly toward the hills on the far side of the valley; we could still hear them even when they’d become practically invisible.”

In its way the nighttime visitation was even more mysterious, for that time I looked up at a starlit but moonless sky that didn’t have a cloud in sight — and heard this multitudinous sound moving across it. The night was chilly. Jane was sleeping. All of the qualities of the birds’ flight were heightened for me by its very invisibility, for while I actually saw no geese at all, that sound was everywhere. And what guided those creatures, I wondered — magnetic lines of force, genes, innate knowledge — or what? And I knew that no objective reasoning processes alone could explain their magnificent flight.

Somehow the twice-yearly, north-and-south migrations of the geese have become symbols for me of the known and unknown qualities of life — sublime and indecipherable at the same time, enduring yet fleeting, and almost outside of the range of human events. For me, those migrations have become portents of the seasons and of the earth itself as it swings around “our” sun in great rhythms. The one consciousness (mine) stands in its body on the ground and looks up at the strange variations of itself represented by the geese. And wonders. In their own ways, do the geese wonder also? What kind of hidden interchanges between species take place at such times? If the question could he answered, would all of reality in its unending mystery lie revealed before us?