“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

I do not really waken however but continue dreaming. I’m downtown in the same town, with this group again. One girl asks me if Chuck stayed til nine last night and I say yes. Then one girl, not of the group, is crying. I say something about poetry and she says, well you’d better talk fast because I’ve just about decided to stop writing poetry. She has light brown hair, rather dark circles under her eyes and is somewhat younger than I. I say that you can’t just decide consciously to give up writing poetry, you’d write it anyhow, though you could subconsciously make such a decision and never know about it at all. Then rather dramatically but beautifully I tell her that: “Poetry is your characteristic method of expression, your way of translating the data into physical reality and that even its rhythm is the rhythm of your heartbeat.” Tell her that she can’t give it up.

Then in here I enter a conversation with another girl about Louis Untermeyer. I begin to mimic him then realize that she is the one who is doing this, and talking about Untermeyer, not I, and I become confused and embarrassed and excuse myself for butting in.

I run ahead of the other girl, and around her, really hunting her down, yelling again dramatically and accusingly: “I ask myself, where are all my friends who were going to write no matter what, to work no matter what happened. Where are they all and now I work alone?" I almost chanted this, and more that I’ve forgotten. (I don’t think she wanted to hear and that I was making her listen on purpose, for her own good.) She ran, cringing, to hide. Friends gathered about her. One said, she’s in bad shape, or badly off, words to that effect. You’ve made things worse. But I said, “No, you can’t save a part of her (and sacrifice part) you have to save the poetry too.” And she did seem better. Friends comforted her. I said to some of them, “Do you know how to work the pendulum?" As I said this I knew that they did before they answered, yes. “Then check it out," I said and they agreed.

[...] We have fear and rage on the part of the girl, for despite the children she is yet a girl, and a very nice one. [...]

Now, the girl respects Philip because he will not be dominated. [...]

With the girl’s background it is natural enough that an independent male would both frighten and fascinate her. [...]

You saw the back of the girl’s head simply because the girl was standing with her back to you. [...] Whether or not you were physically assembled when you saw the girl, I do not know. [...]

In cases such as these, when durability can be maintained, by all means attempt to speak to any persons that you meet, as in this case you saw the girl at the window; and also ask them to write you at your home address.

(“Why didn’t I see the girl’s face?”)

(“Can you tell us anything about the girl I saw?”)

(Was the girl who was driving, and whom Jane entered or replaced injured? [...] Jane couldn’t tell whether the girl’s eyes were open, and she didn’t know if Bill M. was there. [...]

(It was then I remembered hearing Tam mention his girl, Eve, over the weekend, for what this is worth. [...] Jane had the impression of police cars during the experience but they hadn’t reached her yet; although the girl knew the police were near.

[...] not sure if he, Bill, was in an accident with a girl named Maisie.”

[...] I had two impressions; one of an older person, the other of a young and vulnerable girl.

[...] Some girls there too. [...]

[...] It featured one of the girls in the group particularly. [...]

A girl with curly brown hair.

Boy or girl about 6th Grade.

[...] And an A, with a large family and a particular picture of the family, old, three girls with large hair ribbons, two boys, several years older, picture taken on porch steps very early 1900’s. Perhaps in a city B or the name begins with B. And a sister, a career woman before this was general practice.

[...] (Yes, Martha’s.)A girl with curly brown hair. [...] (Name is Alice.) Boy or girl about 6th grade. [...]

[...] And an A, with a large family and a particular picture of the family, old, three girls with large hair ribbons, two boys, several years older, picture taken on porch steps very early 1900’s. Perhaps in a city B or the name begins with B. And a sister, a career woman before this was general practice. [...]

(This morning at about 11:15 I got a call from a girl in the billing department at the hospital. [...] The girl sounded embarrassed to tell me the news. [...] The girl said something about Jane and “skilled nursing care,” but I didn’t really understand her, and let that go. [...]

[...] Andrew was out but the girl would have him call back. [...]

As he drove into town … he saw on the street a girl who looked familiar. [...] “Yet earlier tonight driving down a street I suddenly recognized a girl who looked familiar. [...] She was walking on the sidewalk, and sure enough, it was the same girl I’d met at a bar during my first trip to Elmira. [...]

[...] Out of the corner of my right eye I caught a glimpse of my oil painting, The Girl with The Violet Eyes, as I call it. [...]

[...] The girl’s violet eyes stared down at me as though they would move behind their violet glasses at any moment. [...]

(Beside the girl’s portrait sat another small portrait of a man which I’d also finished this year, early. [...]

(The girl’s back was to me. [...] Looking back, I believe the upper half of the window was open; I seem to recall seeing the girl’s left arm draped over the top edge of the still-shut lower window.

[...] Both Jim and Bill thought the other one, of the girl and dog, quite gruesome. [...]

(At the window as I looked toward it, I saw a girl. [...]

(The girl was struggling to open the window. [...]

[...] A girl in a fourth seat in one of the rows far right.

[...] The girl in a fourth seat in a far right row is Elaine Todd.

[...] Pat also played the tape for a girl friend of hers outside of school: Ellen Tabb, and Ellen’s friend, Adrian, a male. [...]

[...] At the foot of the steps stood a little girl looking up at her disappearing mother. [I do not know how I felt so sure this was mother and daughter.] The little girl, with brown long hair and some kind of short nondescript dress, stood with her back to me. I then heard her say very clearly, in a high-pitched little girl’s voice: “You got the ball? [...]

(In answer to the little girl’s question, I said, “Here’s your ball, little girl.” [...]

[...] I have no memory of the little girl’s reaction, or if she heard me. After turning on the bed, I did try to recapture the picture, and asked the girl a question about her name, to which I received no answer.

(Then again, later yet, I heard myself asking: “What’s your name, little girl?” This time a voice, it could have been my own, answered from offstage to my right: “I’m Bonnie Lou Ryerson.” [...]

In one life the first girl was a niece with a love of music and excellent musical abilities. [...] The second girl at that time was a brother of yours, and the third girl whom you have not yet met, was either your mother or your wife—I am not clear on this point.

[...] Tan had questions concerning his father and his girl, Eve and told us he felt he’d had extended psychological connections with both. [...]

[...] The second girl, with whom you are now involved, has been four times a male, and in the past involved in business administration of various types and kinds; always as an administrator and one who gave orders.

[...] We speculate: Before leaving for Maine with his girl, Leonard talked often to us of marriage to her. Since his return he has not mentioned the subject, and as far as we know has not seen the girl. [...]

[...] Leonard’s girl also accompanied him.

[...] Leonard’s girl, who went to Maine with him, is also dark-haired. [...]

[...] We do not know whether Leonard’s girl had a red dress with her on the trip.

[...] We have fear and rage on the part of the girl, for despite the children she is yet a girl, and a very nice one. [...]

[...] He also verified Seth again, in that he remembers a younger girl living three houses away. This girl is perhaps five years younger than John and his wife; they know her only to say hello to. John said a younger woman lives but two houses away, also. [...]

Now, the girl respects Philip because he will not be dominated. [...]

With the girl’s background it is natural enough that an independent male would both frighten and fascinate her. [...]

[...] (Humorously:) Far be it from me to frighten a young girl (to Eve), although the girl is not so young and the girl has not always been a girl.

[...] for book, using today’s episode with the girl and its effects as opener—

Now, to avoid confusion, the girl is not a medium as, say, Ruburt is, according to your use of the term. [...] But the medium through which Ruburt traveled was the electrical and electromagnetic medium sent out by the girl’s highly-charged emotional condition.

[...] The girl actually helped, as perhaps a midwife might. [...]

[...] The medium through which Ruburt traveled was the emotional charge thrown out by the girl.

There was also a triangle formed by you, Ruburt and the girl, highly charged on a subconscious level, that added to the psychological climate. [...]

(Not knowing her at all well, John could verify little of the data; he took a copy with him to check out with the girl next time he sees her. [...]

[...] John said the girl’s first name is Terry, which is an Irish name, but that she is Italian, with black—not brown—hair. [...]

[...] The girl’s odd name and the Italian heritage may tie in with Seth’s reference to a stage name.