“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Some members of Jane’s “old” ESP class gathered at the hill house of Jane and Rob in Elmira, New York.

(Last Saturday night, Jane and I presided over a “class” reminiscent of the weekly ESP classes we used to hold in our downtown apartments before we moved to the hill house, just outside Elmira, in 1975. [...]

[...] As I wrote in Note 2 for the first session of Mass Events, which Seth-Jane gave a week ago, we’re having the front porch of our hill house rebuilt. [...]

[...] I knew that a few years later the sign had accompanied us on our move to the hill house just outside the city, where we live now. [...]

[...] On September 28, 1978, Jane wrote this little poem when I brought in a few blooms from the climber growing up the trellis at the northeast corner of our hill house, near the kitchen windows:

[...] Jane and I took our drive three weeks ago, on April 7. The town of Sayre is only 18 miles from Elmira, N.Y., where we live now, and it sits in the beautiful Pennsylvania hills between two smaller communities — Athens to the south, and Waverly to the north in New York State. [...]

[...] [This would be about 1922.] On a windy day on the prairie, somewhere west of the Mississippi, but short of the West Coast, I stood by a hill with my parents. [...]

It was dumped either someplace on his own property or in a public dumping area, whichever area is by a hill, and it is still there. [...]

A hill behind the church. [...]

[...] The increase followed the positive results of a blood test the doctor had ordered a few days previously: A hospital technician had come to our hill house to draw blood from Jane—performing a “phlebotomy service.” [...]

[...] It is composed of rocks and trees, grass and hills, and in your terms of time you can look at it, see it as such, give it a name, and ignore its equally independent parts. [...]

[...] Nor have I resumed the midnight walks I used to take over the hilly streets of our neighborhood; I used to look forward to seeing the shadowy deer as they moved down into the streets from the woods north of the hill house. [...]

“The woman was a male, Italian, in a hill village. [...]

[...] “We don’t want it thought,” I wrote when I got back to the hill house, “that the overall consciousness of Iran is playing with the individual consciousnesses of its people, say, as with toy soldiers, setting its citizens up against the world only to have them knocked down. [...]

[...] There was more than a little irony and humor connected with my efforts here, though, for no sooner had I sealed the second letter than there was a knock on the front door of the hill house. [...]

[...] You could see a rather hilarious play re-enacted, perhaps in a certain barn which you might see in your front yard—over the brow of the hill, where there is no land now.

[...] The house is on a hill. [...]

[...] On the 13th we received from Sue Watkins our first copy of Volume 1 of Conversations With Seth, Sue’s excellent account of the ESP classes Jane used to hold in one of the two apartments we rented in downtown Elmira, before we moved to the hill house outside of town in 1975. [...]

[...] The guest house was two story, and built on the side of a steep hill; it had the feeling of being raised up because of this. [...]

[...] This one was narrower than later-model chairs, and it fit well in the bathroom and some other spots in the hill house. [...]