“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

The wind of eternity blows through my hair,

A connection with a man as close to him as a brother, so to speak, with sandy hair, who is somehow connected with the object. [...]

[...] Her brown hair was pulled back; she was sitting on a straight chair beside a small table, holding phone in left hand, wearing dungarees. [...]

The prayer contains within it its own answer, and if there is no white-haired, kind old Father God to hear, then there is instead the initial and ever-expanding energy that forms everything that is, and of which every human being is a part.

[...] Again Jane said: “Don’t write anything yet, I’m not sure of what I’m getting,” while I wrote it anyhow:) I’m getting the impression of a little man with dark hair, and he seems very far away, so I think he’s in the past; and he has old-fashioned clothes on... [...]

[...] I have a warning for you—Ruburt is about to let his hair grow. [...]

[...] At the same time, the shape of the skull changed, the hair grew shorter and fit about it much more closely. [...]

[...] A gray-haired man with glasses has other ideas. [...]

[...] In that life, for example, she would certainly not wear red bows in her hair. [...]

[...] It involved Bill’s father William [Jane hadn’t known the name of Bill’s father], and an older man with brown hair whom Bill looked upon as being in a position of authority. [...]

Someplace during their journeys they met a white-haired gentleman. [...]

Peg on shore dries her hair with a white towel. [...]

(Peggy met a black-haired man whom she found to be “repulsive.” [...]

[...] She was fiercely independent, tall and slim, with neatly coiffeured hair and tailored clothes. [...]

[...] In the meantime, Miss C was hysterical, pulling at her hair and so forth. [...]

[...] Even your remarks about a black-haired wife meant the image of a woman in her 20’s—the-younger-than-you obviously youthful, spontaneous and cute wife; not a 44-year-old woman with experience behind her, some sense, and who could stand on her own feet, but a much younger version, youthful enough to get into trouble, and to be humorously watched in that regard.

[...] She had long black shining hair, was quite slim and shapely, and wore a sleeveless, yellow, silk-like blouse that seemed to flutter and glimmer with iridescent highlights, as though in a breeze. [...]

[...] His complexion was ruddy, his hair had a reddish tinge. [...]

[...] (Pause.) Some kind of white gum, or glue, had been rubbed into my scalp through my hair to improve the electrical contacts, and when the test was finished the attendant simply grabbed one area of the equipment and pulled the entire mess off my head in one motion—which felt like my entire scalp was coming off. [...]

[...] There sat Miss Cunningham, tied in bed, her eyes wild, her hair tangled. [...]

[...] Outright punishment—hair-pulling or cursing. [...]

“Prayer contains its own answer, and if there is no white-haired kind old father-God to hear, then there is instead the initial and ever-expanding energy that forms everything that is and of which each human being is a part.