“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Last night, the washing machine in the cellar sprang a leak, a pipe rupturing, and flooded the cellar. Our water was cold this morning. Inspecting the cellar after breakfast, Jane discovered a foot of water there, and of course immediately called the landlord.)

(Going down cellar at noon to check on the furnace, which had been acting up, I found three Venetian blinds, set out in plain sight where none had been the day before. I am sure of this because I was in the cellar yesterday also, because of the furnace trouble. Our landlord was with me, and told me that I could use the blinds, since someone in the house had obviously decided they no longer wanted to use these. So I took them.

(On October 21, last Wednesday during the session, a remark I made led Jane to recall that on the night before she had had a dream involving a washing machine that leaked and flooded; she told me that she was not sure whether it was the automatic washer in the cellar of the apartment house or not. I wrote it down as a matter of routine.

(One of the interruptions concerned the overflow of water from a cellar bathroom. Last night I’d discovered that a portion of the cellar floor — including the old “bomb shelter” where I keep our fan mail stored — was covered by a quarter inch of water —just enough to soak into the 2 by 4’s I have the cardboard boxes placed upon [to avoid water!]. [...]

[...] The cellar door was open. Again and again she knocked the ball down the cellar steps, raced down after it, carried it back upstairs and sent it flying down again—just as though, it seemed, she still had to perform for us while a recuperating Billy dozed on a comfortable chair in the living room.

[...] In this case, the cellar is the mind. [...]

Also something about a stack of books with pictures or representations, old ones (pause), kept in the cellar, initialed; and something about not a scrap of evidence. [...]

(This evening, while this session was being held, Callista was in the cellar of her home, reading or looking through books she took from a stack of same. [...]

[...] You still fear, as our Lady of Venice, that there is a cellar door... a cellar door to your mind—to your inner self. [...]

[...] You still fear, as our Lady of Florence, that there is a cellar door—a cellar door to your mind—to your inner self. [...]

[...] The studio is in part of my father’s cellar; the rest of the cellar is stuffed and cluttered with odds and ends my father has accumulated over the years. The rest of the family views the overloaded cellar as a fire hazard.

[...] This is speculation: Loren’s model railroad layout is built at waist-high level in the cellar of his home in Tunkhannock, PA. [...]

(There was some water in the cellar last night from the steady downpour of yesterday. [...]

[...] Intertwined with these events were many others in recent days: The john in the cellar bathroom backed up and flooded part of the floor; I had to call the plumber—who’s been here and gone. [...]

The subconscious is not a cellar piled high with explosives, rocking at the foundations of the ego. [...]

[...] I saw the old kitchen linoleum in color, and the outside cellar roof. [...]

[...] “Mitzi, running up and down the [cellar] stairs, is an example of the love of excitement and activity with which man and animals are innately endowed. [...]

He intended to place it on a shelf in the cellar, but instead shoved it with other metal objects, where it ended up on the floor of his Jeep, with or underneath some rubbish.

He had removed it and let it sit off, then in a hurry later he noticed it and intended to put it in the cellar so it would not be lost. [...]

[...] Seth spoke as I carried the cat to the cellar door.)

[...] I fed the cats and put them in the cellar. [...]

[...] I could and I would—and I would—enjoy speaking in such a manner until dawn, but you could never take it, and Ruburt would hide in the cellar for three days following. [...]

[...] Mitzi was chasing one of her paperfoil toys down the cellar stairs. …

[...] For the session I put him in the cellar.

The building shares some common passageways, however, as well as a common cellar and attic... [...]

A group of us are at my parents’ house, in the cellar, projecting. [...]

[...] I hear a bell tinkling and am pulled out the office door, down the corridor, through the cellar, up the stairs to my bed. [...]