“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] This afternoon as I was changing her dressings, the little finger of her left hand began to turn darker as she lay on the bed. [...]

[...] Jane said she felt the same muscular activity in her back, hands, arms and legs that she had when the middle finger began turning color. [...]

(Jane’s hands were still somewhat enlarged, though not to as great a degree as when the sensation first appeared. My writing hand was quite cramped from the pace of the dictation. [...]

[...] Jane’s voice was hoarse, her hands still a little fat. For my part, my right hand was quite cramped but I had no sense of enlargement.

[...] I was aware that we had run past first break, since my hand was beginning to get weary; Jane’s delivery had also speeded up.

(Here, Jane held her hands out to me, indicating that they were “fat.” [...]

You may even smile at the child’s utter sense of desolation until he finally connects the motion of his own hand with the destruction of the paper cardboard house that is now gone, and in his eyes, gone beyond repair.

[...] He also learns by his successes, and there are times when he holds his hand, moments of deliberation, periods of creativity. [...]

[...] A nuclear weapon in the hands of the inhabitants of Middle-Age Europe would have been used almost immediately, and with nary a qualm, to wipe out all but Christendom. [...]

[...] It is not often done, however, since with the materials at hand, often a complicated-enough structure cannot be formed in which consciousness can fully enough express itself.

(9:48.) The male yearns toward the anima because it represents to the deep unconscious those other characteristics of the whole self that, on the one hand, lie latent, and that, on the other hand, struggle for release. [...]

[...] I rested my writing hand. [...]

[...] The intellect should go hand in hand with the emotions and intuitions, but if it pulls against these too strongly, difficulties can arise when the newly freed consciousness seizes upon its ideas about reality after death, rather than facing the particular reality in which it finds itself. [...]

[...] In my hand I held a tablet that said: “Thou shalt not kill.” [...]

[...] On the other hand, she has an unerring sense of direction in local surroundings, and can indicate the points of the compass far better than I can. [...]

“And look at this,” Rob said, holding up the item in one hand and the full page in the other.

[...] With enough freedom on the one hand, and training on the other, Ruburt, speaking for me, could give you the entire copy of The New York Times from a torn corner.

“Writing or printing on the lower left hand corner, very small, holding the object horizontally. [...]

[...] This was just handed to me in the middle of the session, without my knowing beforehand whether or not a test would be held. [...]

[...] The thrilling sensation continued for some little while in my hands and forearms; good duration here. I also had some feeling of enlargement in the hands and forearms.

[...] When I did get it in my cupped hand without damage, I felt it struggling with surprising strength. [...]

Going upon the little information at hand, given the darkness, fears come to the foreground. [...]

[...] My writing hand displayed no weariness. [...]

You should, however, dedicate yourselves each morning to that pursuit, while not with heavy hand. [...]

[...] The improvements I mentioned as occurring within 10 days partially took place—with the ankles, hands, large ligaments, shoulders, and is occurring in the arms. [...]

[...] Right hand better—R. forefinger particularly—L. arm still feels it’s trying to straighten.

[...] On one hand this gave him respite. On the other hand, he was angry at the delays. [...]

Now you may take a break for your hand’s sake.

(The whole time she gave impressions on her own, Jane sat quietly in her rocker, hands folded in her lap, eyes closed, voice quiet. [...]

[...] Now I get Bill hurt in this, his right arm, or hand or shoulder.” [...]

It is the hands, particularly the right one, that would come under such attack.

[...] Gus, the friendly old Shetland sheepdog who belonged to our neighbors across the street, came up to the storm door, looking for the handful of dry food I give him each morning when I scatter birdseed in the driveway. [...] I had my hands on Gus’s head as he sought to enter the kitchen through the glass.

[...] With a sudden inspiration I kept my hands on his head until they went through the glass with him as he withdrew. Then, in order to obtain some physical proof that this was really happening, with my right hand I began to ‘carve’ a squarish hole a few inches across in the glass where Gus’s head had been. [...]

“Dream of August 16, Saturday 1980 — the hand thru glass dream.

[...] Through discipline he thought that he had this suspicious creativity well in hand. [...]

[...] He was then afraid that Ruburt’s spontaneity would divert you from the course that it had set you upon, so he began to take a stronger hand.

Part of the stronger hand also had to do with his attempts to help you with your family, to shut you off from too much distracting emotion, when for example you moved back to Sayre after New York. [...]

[...] You can rest your hand.

That intent may be confused, poorly executed, tangled amid conflicts of beliefs, strangled by the bloody hands of murders and wars — and yet no man or woman ever loses it. That represents the hope of the species, and it has ever remained lit, like a bright light within each member of the species; and that good intent is handed down through the generations. [...]

[...] My writing hand was tired — one of the few times this has happened in the sessions. [...] In fact, she was ready to resume in a few minutes, but I asked her to wait a bit until my hand rested somewhat. [...]

[...] But while disasters, imagined or encountered second-handedly, may in fact later occur, they are far different from physically encountered ones. [...]

[...] (A most important point to remember.) The knee will continue to improve, and the finger also (on the left hand).

[...] You cannot divorce philosophy from action, and the cruelty in slaughterhouses would not be perpetrated if it were not for distorted philosophies dealing with the survival of the fittest on the one hand, and the egotistical assumption that God gave man animals to do with as man wished.

[...] Such individuals may be highly motivated, on the other hand, to become accomplished in some art or profession or other field of activity. [...]

[...] Such individuals may try “to get ahead” on the one hand, in society or business or in the arts or sciences, only to find themselves taking two steps backward for every step they take forward. [...]

[...] “I’m beginning to feel a little bit better, easier than I did, and I’m not sure where my hands are in the weirdest fashion sometimes. [...]

[...] She dozed, her lowered forehead nearly resting on her hands clasped on the table top. [...]

(“…the next thing I knew I was back in bed, but massive again, and for a moment frightened: My left hand, above me on the pillow, had turned into an eagle’s claw. [...] I felt this fantastic power in my hand; it tried to grip as an eagle’s claw would. [...]

as my cupped hands

[...] These emerge from the old Puritan work ethic: “The devil finds evil work for idle hands.”

(As usual I handed Jane the standard sealed double envelope containing my drawing of the symbol shown on page 95. She reached out for it without opening her eyes, then sat quietly holding it in both hands. Momentarily, she laid her left hand flat upon the envelope. [...]

[...] As usual Jane spoke in a quiet voice, sitting with her hands raised to her closed eyes. [...]

[...] The mere shaking of a hand may be perceived by you as a simple action. [...]

There is within the family a general realization of the experiences of its members, but these are second-handed, except for those experiences which the family shares as a unit. [...]

[...] Jane sat quietly with her head down and her hands raised to her closed eyes. [...]

(Jane still sat with her hands raised to her face.)