“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

I will now, with my true dignity, bring this fateful session to a close. I would continue but for my innate good manners. I will at another occasion give our Jesuit some rather fateful measures to contemplate, and perhaps we will ask him how many ulcers can sit on the head of a pin. My best and most sincere wishes to you all. I will sign myself fatefully yours.

To a large measure Ruburt’s confidence has been won. It was most necessary that we go slowly, particularly in the beginning, for if our foundation was not strong we would have never progressed. The whole venture would have been lost. There is no fate in these matters. Our venture was not fated to be. Our venture represents gestalts of energy coming together in quite natural manners. It was necessary however that we meet in such a manner without clashing.

I knew that Ruburt would recognize me, and the word fate is pronounced fate.

(The discussion was sparked because of Seth/Jane’s pronunciation of the words “fate” and “stock” in particular, and others similar. Bill and Lorraine did not believe the accent to be Irish, even considering Jane’s early years in an Irish neighborhood and her association with Irish priests.

If he knew later of the plane’s fate, he thought “How lucky for me that my plans were thwarted.” [...]

[...] I would imagine that Seth made his last remark because Jane and I were speculating about the fate of the material after our deaths – getting a literary executor, etc.)

[...] They “throw their lives to the Fates,” so to speak, saying not as they did before: “I will live,” but: “I will live or die as the Fates decide.”

They may use other terms than Fate, of course, but the vital, personal, direct, affirmative intent to live is not there. [...]

[...] He does not need to protect himself physically from any experience, nor hold up the arms to ward off the blows of fate. [...]

[...] You have in the past, collectively and individually, blamed a god or a fate for the nature of your personal realities — those aspects, indeed that you did not like.

(During break class members discussed fate and predestination.)

(On Wednesday, at about noon, Jane bought the July issue of Fate Magazine. [...]

(On Tuesday, before the dream, I remember thinking casually about Fate Magazine, and that perhaps a new issue was out. [...]

[...] You did clairvoyantly see the article in Fate Magazine.

No one is fated, however, to suffer in one life for any crimes committed in another. [...]

[...] Jane and I talked about the feelings of guilt and blame that are fated to surround the survivors for the rest of their lives, particularly the teenage children and the drunk driver. [...]

For example: when you believe that the universe itself is meaningless, and the accidental result of chance, then of course you must also believe in automobile accidents, and all kinds of chance encounters with fate.

[...] In perhaps a manner that appears strange, they will experience a new sense of their own validity, for if they were saved from death, then something—if only the fates—must have found them worthy. [...]

[...] He has stepped clear of it (pause), its fate no longer seen as his fate, regardless of what happens to the book.

[...] Through testing “fate,” death-defiers try each time they perform to prove to themselves that they are indeed safe, that they can overcome life’s most dire conditions. [...]

[...] It is all in Fate’s hands, therefore whatever happens, happens.” [...]

(Jane read aloud to the gathering an article in the November 1966 Fate Magazine titled Table Up! [...]

[...] A prominent written source of time last Friday evening lay in the Fate article on table tipping, which we all read in turn: twenty seconds; after midnight; twelve years; a month later; four months later; three minutes; since 1960, etc. [...]

[...] As stated, the last time we sat at the table, [Jane, Bill, Don and myself] we did succeed in tipping it in the correct manner, according to the Fate Magazine article. [...]

[...] Last Friday evening was connected with a stranger, in that a stranger, Georgia Mae Fields, wrote the article on table tipping in the November 1966 issue of Fate Magazine. [...]

You are not fated to dissolve into All That Is. [...]

[...] Maybe, I thought, we’re fated to never get those records. [...]

[...] No one is “fated” to have bad health. [...]

You have in the past, collectively or individually, to blame a God or a fate for the nature of your personal realities, those aspects, indeed, that you did not like. [...]

(During break a discussion of fate and predestination.)

[...] He feared the same fate. [...] To the child the father simply vanished from the face of the earth, an equally fearful fate.

[...] You do not imagine the existence of blocks or impediments in your way, in the form of additional furniture placed in your path by accident, fate, or design. [...]

[...] In this book, Dreams, “Evolution,” and Value Fulfillment, for example, Seth portrays us as a vibrant, well-intended species—a physically attuned kind of consciousness beautifully tailored by our own cosmic ingredients to live lives of productivity, of spiritual and physical enjoyments, with each individual life in charge of its own fate and adding to the potentials of all other life as well.

[...] That growth was fated to bring about not only the death of its host, but the cancer itself. [...]