“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] You grabbed hold of an overhanging branch but it gave way, and you were drowned.

[...] They are more pronounced than indicated on my sketch, having a three dimensional quality as they branch out in roughly parallel lines from the central stem.

[...] When I woke up I made another little drawing: I showed my Roman-captain self still face down in the water, but entangled with the branches projecting from a waterlogged tree trunk — I’d been caught that way for a while, before a group of fishermen on a North American beach hauled body and tree ashore in their net. [...]

There is a splitting away from the original psychic branch, but with memory of previous individual existence.

(“How about my dream of the tree branch falling? [...]

[...] For when your conscious self perceives Event X, this other part of the self branches off, so to speak, into all the other probable events that could have been experienced by the ego.

[...] In your particular cases now you have branched out to form prime identities of your own, though we were originally part of the same.

A tree knows a human being also … by the weight of a boy upon its branches … by the vibrations in the air as adults pass, which hit the tree’s trunk at varying distances, and even by voices. [...]

[...] Usually the flashing pictures would emphasize one small portion before my eyes—that is, a tree branch with a cluster of leaves for instance, each of which I would glimpse in sharp and colorful detail. [...]

[...] The spirits are displeased.
Look how the bare branches rustle.”

The uncle seems to be of a distant branch of a well-known family, the last name seems to be made up of two names, beginning with a D, perhaps E. Then a second portion of that name beginning with an M. We will come back to this. [...]

[...] In all cases consciousness is first, and it forms its physical constructions according to its abilities, first of all forming its own primary construction, and then branching outward, constructing secondary images of other consciousnesses with whom it comes in contact.

[...] A tree does not divide itself up into a self that grows leaves and roots, and into a self that is automatically moved by the wind through its branches.

[...] That is, not only would you be able to feel the air though you were not out in it, not only would you pick up the odors, though ordinarily you cannot do this while you look out through closed windows, but you would literally feel the unitary essences of the trees and branches and hidden birds and insects. [...]

As for my out-of-body journeys, I do often hallucinate a support of some kind in such ventures: the crossbar on a telephone pole, the fragile, topmost branch of a dead tree….

[...] Jane noticed its color—this was not the dress blues uniform—and questioned me as to the soldier’s branch of service, etc. [...]

[...] Each seed of life, of living, contains within itself its own protective coating, its own placenta of necessary nourishment and environmental circumstances, its own system and branches of probabilities.

Those branches of probabilities act like remote sensors, seeking out those conditions that will be suited to the seed’s best value fulfillment and development. [...]

[...] Actually I think that these abilities flow through us as the wind flows through the branches.) Ann wrote me a letter shortly after, telling me that she and Jim no longer felt the tremendous sorrow that had burdened them earlier.

[...] Not only for example by the weight of a boy upon its branches, but by the vibrations in the air as adults pass, which hit the tree’s trunk at varying distances, and even by such things as voices. [...]

[...] (Pat learned that Dick’s family has an Ackerman branch in June 1968.) The first portion like oxtagon.