“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] They looked to be so, especially the thumbs and index fingers. I attempted no measurements, since this procedure had indicated before that there would indeed be a definite physical difference in finger circumferences.

Do you want to rest your fingers?

[...] (Smiling:) I have mercy on your fingers.

[...] Then I searched for a second spot on the top of her head—and when I found it with my middle finger Jane’s head suddenly began to jerk very rapidly from side to side. [...]

[...] The most intricate behavior is involved and calculations instantly made, for instance, before you can take one step or lift your finger. [...]

[...] Yet you cannot really put your finger on “the government,” though you might mention the White House as the seat of its power. [...]

Now give us time, and rest your fingers. [...]

[...] When she began writing Magical Approach, she even surprised me by occasionally helping me get breakfast, cooking bacon and eggs at the hot plate I’d set up for her some seven months ago on the kitchen table.⁴ Although she could work at the table while sitting down, she’d given up those simple, nurturing acts of food preparation many weeks ago; her fingers weren’t working well enough, she told me at the time; she didn’t trust herself enough to handle hot food—and I admit that when she implied a risk, the chance of an accident, I stopped encouraging her to help me with meals.

[...] / My muscles unravel /
which have been / folded tight, / saved for future use, /
and I sit up now / running brittle fingers /
through my sun-dried hair. [...]

[...] / We chatter half / the night together /
while I shake / the webs of remoteness /
from fingers and toes. [...]

[...] She gradually gave up working that way, however, as it became more and more difficult for her to exert enough finger pressure on the recorder’s keys.

The willing fingers and good intent, yes, but the active focus of your energies was not here. [...]

[...] Humorously, Jane wagged a finger at Rich.)

[...] I have such tender regard for the state of your fingers.

Then, gradually, I became aware that my consciousness was settling back in my body again, but slowly, like dust motes descending through the evening air down to where my body sat upright at the table, head bent, fingers furiously scribbling notes about what was happening as if they had a mind of their own.

I’m including here only some of the passages that were written by my fingers without my knowledge while I was out of my body. [...]

[...] The fingers of the right hand are opening up from their clenched position, and the flesh has softened considerably. [...]

[...] (When Jane burned her finger via steam from a baked potato.)

[...] Within your body you cannot put your finger upon your own identity. [...]

(Pause at 10:39.) Rest your fingers.

[...] I don’t recall if he wears rings; but if not then the ring finger would be hurt, particularly. [...]

[...] It is as if you used only one finger of one hand, and then said: “This is the proper expression of my personhood.” [...]

[...] She sat very still, fingers interlaced in her lap.)

Rest your fingers.

[...] As I lay on my back on the bed, my hands palm down, I felt as though the second finger of each hand was doubling up or crawling back into a bent position. The feeling was very definite; I checked by downward pressure of my fingers to verify that in actuality they still lay flat against the bed.