“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] Jane began speaking a little ahead of time, while sitting on the couch once more. [...]

[...] She resumed at a faster pace once more, half lying back on the couch, at 10:04.)

In Dreams, “Evolution,” and Value Fulfillment Seth outlines the great cosmic and private energies that in our terms once brought into existence the reality of the universe and the birth of those private, cohesive realities in which our own individual daily lives are couched.

[...] Then we sat quietly side by side at the round card table we’d placed at one end of our battered old couch in the living room. [...]

[...] Two weeks later I could hardly get out of my chair onto the couch or the bed. [...]

[...] Joe, lying on his couch, saw me trying to swallow, and called Margaret from the kitchen. [...]

Ruburt’s body is allowing itself to relax, particularly on the couch when his back is supported. [...]

[...] Although I feel very scary about doing something like yelling or pulling my hair or something like that—I don’t know—losing control, and yet when I look around our room I never fail to take note of the room and the red couch cover, and how beautiful it is.” [...]

The night and day constitute a framework within which your experience is couched, providing the conscious mind with needed stimuli and relaxation, and allowing for proper assimilation of events. [...]

[...] This can be countered if Ruburt stresses the idea that he is indeed couched safely, and that his existence is automatically, spontaneously held. [...]

[...] As I sat on the couch Billy, who is much improved now, curled himself up half in my lap, so that writing as Seth spoke was more than a little difficult. [...]

[...] Well,” she said, pleased, as she moved over to the couch, “that’s one of life’s little surprises. [...]

[...] Such experiences should be followed, however, by reassurances, both on your part, and by self-reminders on Ruburt’s part that his being and experience are indeed couched and held securely in safety and love.

[...] That protection always couches your existence. [...]

[...] So far Billy had spent the session beside me on the couch, alternately napping and preening himself. [...]

[...] She yawned again and again, and finally made it out to the couch for supper. [...]

[...] But now as she sat on the couch she once more had trouble coordinating. [...]

[...] She didn’t remember seeing herself in her chair, for instance, nor did she see me as I sat on the couch taking notes. [...]

[...] Those inner fields of reference in which you have your existence are completely changing themselves as your experience is added to them, and your own (long pause) identity was couched in those references before birth as you understand it.

(Jane took a very long pause in trance at 10:25—so long, in fact, that I thought she might have fallen asleep as she sat there on the couch with her eyes closed.)

Nature does not know damnation, and damnation has no meaning in the great realm of love in which all existence is couched.

(To Junior.) There has been a great silence from that corner of the couch, but I remember it and secrets spring even from couches. [...]

(Jane had spent a lot of time today either on the couch or the bed [in the latter case making notes], and seemed to be better, generally speaking. After supper she grew particularly relaxed on the couch. [...]

[...] She sat opposite the couch, where I sat; in her rocker as usual. [...] “I felt like he had Pat pinned right to that couch.”

They feel themselves couched in an overall feeling of security and safety, even in the face of an unpleasant environment or situation. [...]

(Now, once again, Jane walked over to our couch and perched on one arm of it, as she has done during each of the last few sessions. [...]

(Now Jane, still perched on the arm of the couch with her long black hair falling over her face, impatiently brushed her hair back.)

I lie down on the porch couch and drift into a light sleep. [...] I get out of my body this way, float above the couch and go back in. [...] So I turn, leave my body behind on the couch and walk out the door and down to the dock outside our house.