“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

“Anyhow, each morning when I scatter birdfeed in the driveway of the hill house, the cardinals and the mourning doves, the chickadees and the blue jays and the other birds are waiting in the nearby Russian elms, the oak tree, or lined up on the telephone wires. [...]

[...] The deer I see in the woods north of the hill house would continue to bound through the brush and among the trees. [...]

[...] The motion seemed to be all exterior, from the too-warm wind that blew into my small studio from the back hill, to the shadows of moving foliage outside that flickered across the floor.

There are gullies, hills, mountains, valleys, large continents, small islands upon the earth, and the falling rain fits itself to those contours. [...]

By August, however, Jane hadn’t “walked,” even by leaning upon her typing table and pushing it before her, for over eight months; she was still getting around the hill house in either her wheeled office chair, or the old straight chair I’d equipped with casters last June. [...]

We have an excellent stone fireplace in the living room of the hill house, and often during the winter months I used to build a fire in it at suppertime; we ate while sitting on the couch. [...]

[...] Those gatherings were disrupted almost seven years ago, when we moved from our downtown apartments into the hill house, and for a number of reasons we did not resume them. [...]

[...] The sensation of forward movement was most definite, up and down low hills. [...]

[...] Recently Sarah telephoned Jane from Chapel Hill, NC, and asked for this session—the first held since August 16, 1967. [...]

[...] The flow of mail to our hill house is surprisingly steady throughout the year, as we’ve often noticed: We never take in 100 letters one week, for instance, and none the next, or 70 one week and 15 the next. [...]

(Last Saturday Jane and I visited Cec and Jim Lord, at their trailer home in Westover Hills, Pine Valley. [...]

Were you born once in winter,
in Europe’s ice and snow,
when villages were dark at night
and wolves roamed the towering hills?
Or dark-skinned, did your swaddling cry
pierce Egypt’s early dawn?
How many birthdays come and gone,
how many homelands, each your own?
How many loves have whispered through
the patterns of your mind?
How many sons and daughters have grown
from your womb or loins?
What voices merge with mine
to wish you happy birthday,
and what loves within your past
lay out a feast of wine and cakes?

[...] I’ve raked leaves, stacked wood in the garage, installed storm windows, and made sure our hill house is otherwise all set for cold weather.

The last evening of the month was quite warm for our area at this time of year—66 degrees—and we had front and kitchen windows of the hill house open so the cats could go out on the porches as they pleased. [...]

[...] Running over the hills, I leap from ground to a high ledge. [...]

2. We moved from our downtown apartments into the hill house almost five years ago (in March 1975), but Jane thinks she tried to write the poem Seth referred to several years before that. [...]

[...] It was just this little inlet, with the rocky hills and not much grass. [...]

[...] Of course, it was more difficult going down the hills—the significance of letting go is more apparent.

2. Six months ago, I described how Floyd Waterman had helped me rebuild a narrow old straight chair for Jane, and equip it with casters, so that I could more easily steer her into certain parts of the hill house. [...]

[...] We held that session four months after moving into the hill house.

Jane initiated Sumari in ESP class, and largely let it go when we ended class and moved to the hill house four years later. [...]

[...] Jane sat in the doorway that opens from her writing room onto the screened-in back porch of the hill house, and watched the birds searching out the wet remnants of the feed I’d scattered in the driveway this morning. [...]

As I note in the Epilogue for this volume, Section 6 in Volume 2 contains the story of how we moved into our “hill house,” just outside Elmira, N.Y., a month before Seth completed that section — and his part in “Unknown” Reality as a whole — in April, 1975. [...]

[...] Our move to the hill house also cost me considerable working time on the manuscripts. [...]

[...] In March 1975 we took time out to move from the apartment house in downtown Elmira to our “hill house” just outside the city. [...]

[...] To top off our activities of the moment, we’re having the front porch of the hill house rebuilt — with a new raised floor and screening all around, so that Jane can write there in the summertime. [...]

[...] There are high hills or mountains to the northwest, close, and the land juts off to the southeast I believe.