“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

This 394th session was held on February 19, 1968. At the end of the private session of December 11, 1967, I described to Jane an internal vision I’d just had, and made notes about it and a quick drawing. In part: “Briefly but rather clearly I saw this hanging sculpture. I knew it was mine. The piece was of cast iron, with a soft mottled black-brown patina, densely conceived and I liked it very much. It was perhaps two and a half feet tall, hanging from a ceiling by a chain.

Obviously, even if I could make it an iron cross that size would be incredibly heavy to hang from our ceiling. So I slowly built up a replica from layers of illustration board, and painted it black. The cross now hangs easily and lightly in a corner of our living room.

Your cross now hangs freely and is not static, you see. It is a symbol of who you were in your last life.

[...] For this will short-circuit some of your hang-ups as far as painting is concerned and will lead to new spontaneous painting power (humorously). You will also consider it a work of merit, and you will be doing your own thing with your experience. [...]

[...] She pointed over her right shoulder to where the painting — which is reproduced in The Seth Material — hangs on our living room wall just in back of her rocker.

[...] They will try out the ideas, many of them, to the best of their ability, and learn and gain much, all the time hanging on safely to the banners of conventional beliefs—and Ruburt has allowed himself no such comforts. [...]

[...] This session will rid him of some debris, hanging over. [...]

My own identity, in simple terms, has fewer hang-ups than the personality that is operating in physical terms. [...]

We should go deeply however into the nature of perception before we leave it, or you will have that left hanging. [...]

[...] The painting I’ve done of Seth hangs on an inside wall of our living room. [...]

[...] And why the episode in which I saw her hang out clothes in the yard? [...] In the dream the women hang out clothes in the yard … and Anna showed me the children’s closet at school, commenting on clothes. [...]

[...] They were hanging out clothes, and I stood applauding.

[...] Later, in a free period, she showed me her first-grade classroom, specifically pointing out the closet and mentioning the difficulty involved in helping the children hang up their clothes.

Part of me doesn’t want to contend with this material at all but last night I had one of the strangest, quite frightening experiences—all the odder because there are so few real events to hang on to. [...]

[...] I plan to use his rather spacious walls as a hanging space for my work, rotating the exhibits periodically.

[...] Finally, very briefly but rather clearly, I visioned internally the hanging sculpture sketched below. [...] It was perhaps two and a half feet high, hanging from a ceiling by a chain.

[...] As if on cue, through an open front window a quickening breeze stirred the long glass wind chimes hanging just inside; their pealing harmony filled the living room. [...]

[...] These included promised material on my “probability dreams” involving family members; Jane’s hang-ups about finishing the two Seven novels she has started; and whether her teeth might have anything to do with her eye condition.

[...] They have nothing to hang that intuitive knowledge upon. [...]

[...] The personality hangs on to his small indulgences, but good sense will rule the day.

[...] He is still working toward recovery, though the fear and panic did slow down that recovery considerably — and by recovery I mean simply the return to conditions just before this recent hang-up.

[...] You tried to hang on to old beliefs “just to make sure” along the way. [...]

[...] Use my voice again, simply to give you something to hang on to, and translate the tones into the acceleration of your own consciousness, and translate the energy so you can use it to form your own path. [...]

(Jane and I engaged in a long discussion this evening, covering a lot of ground concerning her symptoms, my role, her lingering and bothersome symptom hang-ons, etc. [...]

(I told Jane that the variety of opinions we’d received on the anti-amoebic treatment left us hanging in limbo as far as knowing what to do. [...]

[...] When the advantages no longer outweigh the disadvantages, then it is sheer stupidity to hang on by your teeth to prove that you can do so. [...]

[...] You go to his aid; discovering that you can manipulate better than you thought, you jump off the roof only to discover that your brother had also fallen over the edge of the cliff and was hanging on until you could get to him.

Although you did not really agree, you leaped in to help him; as you jumped off the roof to go to his aid, you found that he had fallen farther than you thought over the edge of the cliff, and was hanging on. [...]

[...] They had huge cowhides hanging up in a back room of the cobbler’s shop, and there were a lot of dried cowhides hanging up in another room, too. [...]

[...] This was the one you sold, of the man that hung for some time in the position in which my portrait now hangs. [...]