“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] When an artist is painting a landscape, he might unconsciously compare hundreds of landscapes viewed in the past in multitudinous, seemingly forgotten hues that splashed upon the grass or trees, or as he seeks for a new creative combination. [...]

[...] Perhaps a dozen chicks cluster in the grass at my feet while I stare down at them, quite entranced. [...]

[...] She sits on the grass before some evergreen shrubs; she leans slightly back on her right hand, her bare legs rather primly folded. [...]

[...] Rather, from her position on the grass she just stares directly out of the photograph at the viewer, displaying a sober, almost controlled regard that seems out of place for one of that age….

[...] He felt the impulse to do the floors with your sweeper (while I was mowing grass) and because of our Saturday session he ignored the arm difficulty enough to do the kitchen. [...]

[...] There are several buildings, rather separated from each other, and lovely green grass. [...]

[...] And there are other buildings nearby with gravel walks and grass and benches.”

(As she sits at her desk Jane looks out and down to the grass of the backyard below. [...]

[...] She “looks down and away” at grass and flowers, etc., and to her left, not obstructing her view, is the porch roof of the apartment on the ground floor.

[...] You should have known that you could not escape my ceremony—and my ceremony is a ceremony of the skies and trees—and even of the grass. [...]

(9:25.) Great expectations, basically, have nothing to do with degree, for a grass blade is filled with great expectations. [...]

There seems to be a filling station and high grass by this stretch of road, with the city still ahead. [...]

[...] While sitting in the usual rocking chair she uses during sessions, Jane said that at times she felt as though she were outside the house, enjoying the spring air, grass, flowers, etc. [...]

[...] Therefore, such simple activities as walking in the rain, lying upon grass, walking in windy weather, all represent gateways to psychic experience.

[...] We learned what spices would do long before the present generation got hung-up on grass. [...]

[...] They do not want to hang around to now the grass, in other words. But those who mow the grass could not create it.

[...] In those terms All That Is became physical also, aroused at its divine depth by the thrusting of each grass blade through the soil into the air, aroused by each birth and by each moment of each creature’s existence.

The smallest blade of grass, or flower, is aware of this connection, and without reasoning comprehends its position, its uniqueness and its source of vitality. [...]

[...] I threw myself down in the grass and lay there and relaxed, lying on my back.... [...]

[...] Anyone fully accustomed to inner reality would have no difficulty in telling the dream oak tree from its frisky shadow, however (humorously), any more than awaking photographer would have trouble distinguishing the physical oak tree from its counterpart upon the grass.

[...] The child knew that in one way or another its most intimate thoughts, dreams, and gestures were as connected with the natural world as blades of grass are to a field. [...]

[...] I was painting, or mowing grass. [...]

(This afternoon I mowed grass for the first time, and trimmed a tree or two. [...]

[...] What is left will enjoy the sunlight and green grass, and be peaceful. [...]