“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Just before the session Jane began to edge into an altered state of consciousness other than the one she uses for her “Seth trance,” as she put it. For a few moments she sat quietly with her eyes closed. She felt “the idea, mentally, of something shaped like a television screen” off to her right. By now I was writing down what I could. “And now it’s coming closer. I don’t know what it is, or what it has to do with the session, if anything.” She paused, then resumed in the past tense: “It came up fairly close to me. I walked through it and down a long chute. There were coils in there. They did things with me — healing things — then dropped me back in my chair.

(“Then in the eyes of this Seth there are two little Seths looking out. Both of these images are like your portrait. Now they climb out of the eyes; with their bodies they make a garland around the big Seth’s head; they sit on it back-to-back like a pair of bookends.” Pause, eyes closed. “Wow — a whole bunch of these little Seths climb up on top of the giant head — but in perfect poses. They’re very stylized, but all real. And Seth will explain it,” Jane abruptly said, evidently quite surprised. “The little images face in all directions around the head of the big Seth. I know it’s not right, not a good analogy, but they’re like gargoyles on a steeple….

(After another pause: “Okay, I think we can have a session now. But until Seth said so, I didn’t know he’d explain any of this.”)

Give us a moment … (A one-minute pause.) You are not a miniature self, an adjunct to some superbeing, never to share fully in its reality. (Long pause.) In those terms you are that superself — looking out of only one eye, or using just one finger.

Much of this is very difficult to verbalize. (Long pause.) You are not subordinate to some giant consciousness. While you think in such terms, however, I must speak of reincarnational selves and counterparts, because you are afraid that if you climb out of what you think your identity is, then you will lose it.

(Pause, hand to closed eyes.) Between each official number in a given series he envisions literally infinite space. The infinitesimal becomes infinite.

(“I’m just waiting,” Jane said finally, after we’d each had a little something to eat. “I feel unsettled. I think there’s another bunch of material there. Seth’s going to get it if I can do it — if he can find some more thought patterns he can use.” A long pause. “Now, I’ll try….”

(Pause at 11:20.) Experiencing that kind of series could lead to entirely different kinds of perception, in which infinities (pause) existed (pause) within a scale of its own. (In parentheses: The series would have its own kind of infinities.)