“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

She did not comfort him as his mother had. You picked up the condition when he realized that it no longer served him. [...]

[...] He discarded the symptoms because they did not get him what he wanted. [...]

You are not helping your father, for the symptoms will not revert to him. [...]

Hay fever was for your father also a defense against the world, for it allowed him some isolation. [...]

[...] Now I stood almost in front of him, the un-Jane-like open eyes staring at him as if to make sure he understood what was being said.

[...] Despite Seth’s parting words, I could “feel” him still present, along with a tremendous sense of vitality and goodwill. [...]

[...] Rob was newly surprised at the deep voice that had started up again, and it took him a minute to think of something to ask. [...]

[...] I have not assimilated him completely, but you can believe me, I intend to.”

[...] Now in the past existence, you were younger than this older man and you were constantly trying to prove to him that you could do without him, and so you are constantly trying to prove to your wife that you can do without her in that particular respect. [...]

[...] Now there seems to be another younger man connected perhaps with one of your daughters, who may be offered either a new job or something new in his line of work that may tax him and yet he will feel that he must accept it—for he is driven by ambition—and he will accept it. [...]

[...] I hope—I hope you did not hit him with it. [...]

[...] He befriended you; you depended upon him. [...]

[...] A small note: With more physical activity, let him talk to you anytime he feels conflicts between writing and physical activity—and I will speak about that next time.

[...] Man to fix refrigerator and a fan—R. sees him on porch.)

[...] I should not joke about him for he is indeed as he said earlier, delighted. [...]

When you kill a man, most of you believe that you have killed him forever. [...]

[...] The man who killed him believes he has killed a man, and ended consciousness forever and blotted out for eternity something that existed for a very brief time. [...]

The eyes have annoyed him because the motor activity of the neck is increasing so. [...]

[...] Jane told him in her subsequent letter that we are relying upon Prentice-Hall and John Nelson to tell us what to do about legal advice when the time comes, if it does.

(The next day Jane called Tam, got the info from him as to his screen treatment of Seven, then relayed the word to Neuman.

[...] His perception changes focus so that he is aware of an event that would otherwise be future for him. He constructs subconsciously, as always, material objects in line with the data that is available to him. [...]

[...] Seth went into the experience in detail in the 24th session, explaining how at times it represented my attempts to perceive him, and at other times my attempts to perceive other data outside the usual sense channels.)

(Seth told us at the time that the apparition was of him, and that Bill could see it but that Jane and I could not because we were too “fussy” about what we allowed ourselves to see. [...]

[...] Ruburt thinks of telephone pole, this leading him to a connection with a telephone pole.

[...] A man who looks somewhat Lou Grant (television star Ed Asner) writes me a note saying that I’ve touched him as no other woman ever has. [...]

[...] Read the session back to him. We may or may not return, but my presence, attention, and energy are with him.

[...] It is not too farfetched however to add that all, or many, medicines have unfortunately a foul taste, and that the child who sips such a medicine finds it difficult to believe that such a distasteful brew can do him good.

[...] While speaking aloud, she had the parallel thought that Seth felt this material wouldn’t make him very popular in some quarters, among people who might desire to use this material for their own purposes.

[...] He sees hate in his own heart, what he calls hate, which is but fear, so he projects it into another man’s face and says the man hates him; and he may slay the man. [...]

[...] He is being directly helped in many ways through the mere fact of holding these sessions, for in speaking through him, he also to some extent partakes of my energy. [...]

[...] Unfortunately the knowledge that his book will be published, while bringing him much satisfaction, has also served to remind him of the manner in which he fears many might look upon both our sessions and his past endeavors in this field.

[...] The very distortions therefore form many of the characteristic differences which for him gives his reality its peculiar nature. [...]

[...] His own book will allow him to reassess the nature of our sessions. [...]

Ruburt’s mother often told him she wished the birth had not taken place, and that Ruburt had not been born. [...]

[...] The nuns told him that he must say he was happy, whether or not he was. [...]

Ruburt’s grandmother taught him to sleep with his hands above the coverlets, so that the child would not even begin subconsciously to feel its own parts while it slept (again intently). [...]

So such attitudes were reflected, and kept him from even appreciating his own work. [...]

[...] I always think of him as a windbag. [...]

[...] You may feel his presence first, and then look around to see him.

It is possible, of a telepathic nature, and at the same time that you see him.

He may also ask your opinion as to whether or not he should ask his mother to live with him. [...]

[...] He wants to walk—and is being driven toward motion, even though his present capabilities as yet only allow him to go so far. [...] The nerves are physically urging him on—hence of course the walking in the kitchen, the impatience in the chair, the odd nervous sensations in the legs and hips, and behind this, your decision again not to hide —not to be apologetic. [...]

Ruburt has emphasized the intellect’s critical qualities, so that they serve as an impetus to lead him to this opening that he knows exists, though he only senses it so far, and has experienced it but briefly. It would carry him where intuitively he knows he can go.

[...] There is, for example, a table in front of him. [...] How, therefore, could we prove to him that this table exists, when he is not aware of it in any manner whatsoever? [...] For him the table does not exist. [...]

If you have already suggested that the table does not exist for him, he will never see the table. [...] It ceases to have any meaning for him at all. Nor will he recall or remember any meaning for him that that table might once have had.

(We had indicated to Dr. Instream last week that we would record a session upon returning home, and ship him the tape for his own use. [...]

Though objects upon the table be dearly familiar to him, in his trance state he will not recall them. [...]

[...] The car is also to him a complementary image of his father, who was always on the move, more so than most men, while his mother could not move at all. A lack of a car also makes him fear a return to poverty, since in his neighborhood any car at all was a sign of luxury.

[...] I want him to remember this, for there is no reason for him to blame himself when, as in our last test, we did poorly. [...]

[...] To him a car is an extension of that mobility.

Your father would like to kick at old cars, for he felt that they defied him since they worked improperly. [...]

[...] He is if anything more bullheaded than even I gave him credit for, and I gave him credit for a good deal of bullheadedness.

[...] Consciously he may not even know the problems which beset him, but which he has worked out on a subconscious level. [...]

[...] He sang for money or whatever was given him.

[...] But I will run him around that particular hedge.

For one thing, Monday’s session hit him in the solar plexus, so to speak; and all joking aside, the session did take quite a bit out of him, simply because he was inclined to block the material, though he did not in most instances.

His initial attempt at kindliness at the gallery the following day took more out of him, although he quickly saw that my diagnosis of the situation there was correct.

[...] During break I mentioned that I wondered whether Seth could tell us what Bill Macdonnel was doing on his vacation on Cape Cod., since we’d had but one card from him some time ago. [...]

[...] But an individual’s environment will nevertheless be seen to have a consistency of elements, a pattern of appearances, that can be called characteristic of him.

[...] He did not want to live into an old age—but more than that, life had lost its flavor for him. He had sired his children, loved as well as he could, done his job—but there was no contemplative life to look forward to, no greater love than the one with his wife—and that love while conventionally sound enough, did not content him.

[...] I didn’t know whether to attempt to forgive him or demand life imprisonment, for example. [...]

[...] He would not have taken anyone with him. [...]

[...] The accident gives him a specific event upon which to lay his guilt, but coming so close to death, his own instincts for life were rearoused, so that he is literally given a second chance.