“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(It happened in daylight, and in color. The branch, which is perhaps ten feet long and three or four inches in diameter, came crashing down to the street. When it hit the street it bounced, and white chips of wood flew up like sparks from an anvil. The branch did not hit any cars, people, etc. I must have been standing nearby, although I was not involved in any way. I do not recall a storm, or high winds.

(This particular branch appears to be a solid one in the tree, but it grows out at a peculiar angle so that it looks weak and somehow out of place amid the rhythmic patterns of the other limbs and branches. I have often noticed it and wondered just how strong it really is.)

(Last night, April 12, 1964, I had a brief but very vivid dream, in which I saw one of the big branches of the tree in front of Stamp’s house, around the corner from us, fall to the ground.

[...] As you can climb trees, both up and down the branches, so you can climb times in the same way. [...] It has branches that you do not climb and do not recognize, and so they are not real to you. [...]

that sit on branches,

[...] In concrete terms, if a tree branch blows you can take it for granted that something moves the branch. [...]

[...] It is like the branch that moves so that you know wind by its effects; and a windbag like me by the billowing gale of my monologues.

[...] A strong breeze kept whipping up the airy branches of the mountain ash outside the windows of 330, and the room began to cool down a bit.

[...] They are projected from the self, extending outward indeed like branches from a tree. [...] And as branches are composed of all those elements that make up the whole tree, so indeed dream images are composed of those elements that make up the personality.

[...] Now that it was done, with the multicolored lights shining through the branches and the tinsel, we prepared for the session. [...]

[...] Instead, I see each one of us as traveling a most curious and branching-out or circuitous route, one that is creative in ways that are both known and, I’m sure now, unknown.

[...] It was branching out. [...]

There seem to be three main branches here, or possibilities. [...]

[...] Elmira and Syracuse banking facilities would be merged, with the Utica branch left out; according to Tom this would be a better arrangement, etc.

[...] I was very pleased to see her “branching out,” so to speak, with the session material, even though it still was applied to her for the most part. [...]

[...] With a power saw one man cut into the base of the tree; pulling on a rope thrown over a higher branch, two other men pulled it down. When the tree fell its branches seemed to crumple and break as though there was no strength left in them. [...]

[...] Because a tree branch falls, this does not mean that it was destined to fall in either the particular manner of its fall nor in the timing of the fall. [...]

[...] … In concrete terms, if a tree branch moves, then you take it for granted that something blows it. [...]

[...] It is like the branch that moves, so that you know the wind by its effects; and a windbag like me by the billowing gale of my monologues.

[...] Then you grew restless and entered a bird who perched upon the branches and you flew merely several feet away. [...]

[...] She might, for example, through a series of seemingly chance encounters, end up in another branch of singing, less formal, where she also deals with her contemporaries, as in a music company.

[...] Miranda Charbeau, from a French side of the family, who married into an English branch, into the Franklin Bacon family of Boston. [...]

[...] I’d heard the same sound a few days ago, but since it had been a windy day I’d thought the noise was caused by branches rubbing against the house or fireplace outside. [...]

Even so poor a small fish as I, am not bound by your time, and can be quite aware of what would seem to be future branches and developments that will intimately concern my own identity.

Heat or no, I had to notice that the room seemed plunged into greenness — the leaves trembling and the fir tree so close to the window that a branch could grow in if you left the window open long enough.