“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

In vital ways, Seth’s material itself is timeless, yet its production, of course, is tied to the events of our lives. I hope my notes provide that “living story” — the narrative that gives the material its flesh in our time. The material itself can stand on its own, though, and we trust it will continue to do so when Jane and I are through with this particular joint physical adventure. Then Seth’s work will fall back upon the timeless quality that always illuminates it.

No one, whether that individual is a psychic, a mystic, a writer, a poet, or even if he or she combines all of those qualities (as I think Jane does), can encompass all of the incredible differences within the human species. I believe that thick, sprawling works like “Unknown” Reality offer some important answers, but beyond that it’s up to the multidimensional, multitudinous, over four billion multinational individuals on this planet to follow their own intuitions and seek answers in their personal ways. Lots of those people will never hear of the Seth material — nor, as Seth himself has said, will they ever need to — but then, Jane and I know that some will, and so we proffer what we can.

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?