“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

The infant with whom he momentarily identified as the self he is now only opaquely and indirectly shared common experience. This was not simple regression, then. That child grew up in that probability, and Ruburt grew up in this one. (Pause.) He touched upon certain coordinates that were neurologically shared, however, by both: He and the child were familiar with the carriage and the curb, the mother who pushed the carriage, and the house into which Ruburt felt himself, as the child, being carried.

In a waking state, Ruburt found himself in Saratoga Springs, N.Y., where he grew up, in what seemed to be a kind of mental projection. (See Jane’s notes at the beginning of the last session.) Everything was gray. The immediate nature of full-blast sense data was missing. Vision was clear but spotty, highly selective. Motion was, however, the strongest sense element. Ruburt was bodiless on the one hand, and on the other he perceived some of the experience through the eyes of an infant in a carriage.

Quite sharply he perceived a particular curb at the corner of a definite intersection (York Avenue and Warren Street), and his attention was caught by the focus a curb, a slope of dirt, and then the sidewalk; and the motion of the carriage as it was wheeled up.

He sensed the house interior and the stairway vividly. He knew that the mother then went down the stairs to bring in the carriage, but when he tried to perceive this, the motion became too fast. The mother’s figure blurred so completely that he could not follow it. He felt confused, and found himself entering the store around the corner, and then consciously circled the block and went into the school.

1. At first Jane and I thought Seth was in error when he said “chariot” instead of “coach” or “carriage.” But from the dictionary we learned that in archaic terms a chariot could be a four-wheeled lightweight carriage, used either for pleasure or on certain affairs of state.

[...] You were in a carriage, driving it. [...]

[...] First, ‘I’ looked down on ‘myself’ in my carriage. [...]

[...] You were in a carriage, driving it. [...]

[...] In blurred focus behind me an unknown teen-age girl sits on a swing that’s suspended from a tree limb, and an empty wicker stroller-type carriage [mine?] stands beside her. [...]

[...] Jimmy (long deceased) was a kind and outgoing landlord and restaurateur who lived with his wife and three children on the second floor of the old converted horse barn and carriage house in back of the apartment house he owned at 458 West Water Street, where Jane and I lived. [...]