“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] Most of the people in your house took it for granted that your landlady would not take care of the place. [...] Her houses represent security to her.

Leonard will want to buy a house. When he finds he can afford the rent easily, he will realize he can afford a house easily. [...]

(Note: This session was held on June 2. On June 5 we heard that Leonard was going to contact a real estate agent about buying a house.

The landlady chose, unconsciously, houses in which the deeper needs of her tenants would in one way or another correspond with her own. [...]

Ruburt sensed during your third visit to the house the mood of the people surrounding it. [...] If you had taken the house you would have moved in on the 13th, and it would have worked out very well, because your expectations would have then built it up.

[...] Nevertheless, beyond the 13th date, and for psychological reasons, the house will not be available to you. You had to see in concrete terms exactly what your expectations were, and the house represented at that time the height of your expectations, if not the height of your desire.

(Last Thursday, 7/30, Jane and I were notified by the Veteran’s Administration that our application for a G.I. loan to purchase the Birch house was denied; the reason given was the steep dirt road leading up to the place.

[...] My personal thought was that our expectations concerning the house had been in the process of change, the loss of the loan being the natural culmination of this.

[...] In the world that you recognize as official, however, they moved into the hill house. [...] I do not mean that they are simply familiar with the exterior thought processes involved, such as: “The hill house is better constructed,” or “It has a fine view.” [...] (Long pause.) When a house is vacant all of the people in the neighborhood send out their own messages. [...] Empty houses are psychic vacancies that yearn to be filled. [...]

[...] Ruburt and Joseph were looking for a house. [...] Two months ago, however, they were attracted to “the Foster Avenue house,” as they called it (change the name if you want to). [...] Imaginatively both Ruburt and Joseph saw themselves living there, and a certain amount of psychic energy was projected into that house.

2. Our “new” hill house is really 21 years old. [...] Calling it new is a pretty convenient way for us to distinguish it from the much older apartment house we vacated last month. [...] In that sense, if the house we’ve just moved into was physically older than the one we left behind, I suppose we’d still call it new.

(Pause at 9:52, eyes closed.) Joseph and Ruburt have moved into a “new”² house. [...] (Long pause.) They identify with the selves who moved into the new “hill house.” [...]

[...] When we sat for the session around 9 PM, Jane said her pendulum told her that the symptoms were caused by the house we lived in, and, specifically, by the original owner. [...]

[...] Much more talk followed; we speculated about ramifications stemming from the idea that the house was involved. [...]

[...] The thought of buying a house brings up strong feelings of inadequacy on your part. [...]

Now all of these issues made him more and more susceptible to certain influences that were in the house. [...]

(Our house connections continue to accumulate, often in unexpected ways. From her own viewpoint Jane has already produced for Psychic Politics some very perceptive material on our move to the hill house: “So we made our own special place in more ordinary terms, by symbolizing that particular house and corner, marking it ours, stamping it with the imprint of living symbols which we transposed upon it. [...]

(In ordinary terms, I think that during our first month in the hill house we’ve been busy forming a fresh psychic atmosphere within which we can feel comfortable — and that anyone in a similar situation intuitively does the same thing. [...] Now when Jane and I drive past the old house we lived in on Water Street, close by downtown Elmira, we engender within ourselves mixed feelings of strangeness and familiarity. [...]

(In that big, intriguing house her whole psychic world — and mine — had begun to open up late in 1963; various aspects of that becoming are detailed in her different books. [...] At the same time our black cat, Rooney, who’d died in his fifth year, lay in his grave in the backyard of the house on Water Street.⁶

[...] Except for the few listed below, then, it may be sufficient to just state that we’ve been in our hill house for a month, and that after much hard physical labor² we’ve settled down enough to resume our natural rhythms of painting, sessions, books, and play. [...]

[...] Paint may be added to a house, and paint may disappear from a house through weathering, and you still call a house a house.

[...] Her mind was on the house we plan to buy, instead of on the session, she said. [...]

The only matter that matters to your Ruburt right now, is the new house, although I am sure I do not have to tell you this.

[...] I was with you in your impromptu party at the house for a while. [...]

(The session was held this evening with the chance that it might be interrupted. One of the tenants in the house had finally located a man with a plow, who was due to clear the area at 9 PM this evening. Everybody in the house was to chip in to pay him. [...]

(Right after the first snowfall two weekends ago, our landlord appeared with his Jeep and snowplow attached, and cleaned out our long curving driveway and the garage area in back of the apartment house. [...]

(After the second foot of snow fell last weekend, the tenants of the house waited as usual for the landlord to appear with his plow. [...]

[...] Then yesterday morning it developed that the thermostaton the furnace was not working; we got up to a cold house, and this led to more telephone messages, the calling of a specialist, etc.

Next, at Jim’s request we visited the apartment house at 458 West Water Street that Jane and I had lived in when we moved to Elmira from Sayre in I960. We had stayed there until 1975, when we purchased the hill house at 1730 Pinnacle Road in West Elmira. Some years after we had moved out, the apartment house was painted a garish green, a color that was quite out of keeping with all of the other houses in the neighborhood. [...] The whole sprawling house looks shoddy, sagging almost, in need of general repair.

[...] Our landlord, Jimmy Spaziani, had told us that the entire apartment had been the master-bedroom complex of the wealthy merchant who had built the house for his family more than a century ago. The kitchen with its three tiny windows near the front of the house had been a closet; the three bay windows of the living room where Jane had held the sessions and her ESP class had been the main bedroom. [...] Then comes a smaller room that we had used as a bedroom, with one window in the back wall of the house. Finally, there’s the last room with its windows on three sides as it juts out on iron posts from the back of the house. [...]

Actually, Laurel and I drive past 458 often, without paying much attention to it on our way from Sayre to the hill house. [...] I hadn’t set foot in 458 since the day we’d moved to the hill house 27 years ago. [...] The sounds of our voices were crowded; the space we stood in seemed to be so confining, with the doors at each end, that I marveled that my dear wife and I had lived in the house for all that time. [...]

[...] I had my chance, I told Jane: on other than session nights I was free to leave the house. [...] Jane was reluctant to see me go out late at night, but I reassured her that she would be all right in the house and that I would be all right outside of it—and each one of us always was. [...] I stopped moving; they stopped; each side stared at the other in the porch light from a house across the street....

[...] In the beginning the house is small. [...] Instead you lead him out of the house. [...]

She wanted to hide inside the house. [...]

[...] I left the breakfast, the cats, the house, turned off the lights, and drove down. [...] It was raining heavily when I left the house.

[...] I also understood as we talked that when Jane’s grandfather had wanted to move out of the house on Middle Avenue, he had sold all the furniture and had the utilities turned off. Marie then succeeded in thwarting his plans and banned him from the house. [...]

[...] I’d left the house so early and quickly I hadn’t had time to plan for anything to wear more formally. [...]

[...] Today’s question was simple enough—but I wanted to know what would be different at the house when she returned home this time, compared to the situation at the house before she went into the hospital. [...]

(See my hospital notes today for details regarding my talk with Fred Kardon here at the house this morning. [...]

“Give us a moment … Do not buy a house with a dirt cellar. Do not buy a house heated by oil. [...] A house facing the east is good in your section of the country. Use your psychic abilities to ascertain the house’s atmosphere, by all means — and no matter how fine it seems, do not buy it if you do not feel comfortable inside. [...]

[...] Debbie had pointed out a photograph of it in a local real estate catalog, and we were quite aware that it bore a good resemblance to the house we’d considered buying in Sayre, Pennsylvania, in the spring of 1974.³ Besides being bungalows, both houses were of about the same age, and even of similar colors.

[...] And today we began house hunting.²

(Jane and I were also interested in the fact that we’d seldom been on Foster Avenue, even though it lay within comfortable walking distance of the apartment house we lived in on Water Street; nor could either of us recall having noticed the “Foster Avenue place” before. [...]

[...] A strange man [or is it a conscious projection of one of us?] forms a tiny Colonial-type house in the air, and it enlarges until it’s regular size. Then Jane, as Seth, pushes us at the house. [...]

(Below her dream account Sue had written: “Consciously, I know that Colonial-type houses represent great comfort to me. Whenever I see one, the house sort of radiates comfort at me.”)

Symbolically the both of you were to follow me into this house, for its rooms contain various realities. The realities merge so walls inside the house did not serve as divisions, and had you followed me you would have seen that passing through one wall would not lead you to a room on the other side, but to numberless rooms within the wall.

You turned the house symbolically into a normal-sized house so that you could enter it, but you did not do so. [...]

(A note: While taking my usual walk on Crestwood Avenue at about 10 PM last night, I saw a herd of eight deer cross the street; they moved into a small patch of woods that I judged to be just below Stamps’ house on Pinnacle; if they continued on that course they might have ended up crossing Pinnacle right by our own house. [...] I think that most, if not all of the houses on Crestwood had lights on, so the neighborhood was hardly deserted. [...]

[...] You received them in any case, because of your connections with your friend, your affection for him, and the years of association in the old apartment house. [...]

(In the call this morning, Jane learned that Leonard had overdone his physical activities at the house, and suffered some discomfort as a result. [...]

(A note by R.F.B.: Jane had formally ended her ESP classes by March 1975, when we moved from our downtown apartments in Elmira, New York, to the hill house at the edge of the city. These quotations are from sessions she gave at the house through Seth, her trance personality, for visiting groups of former students.)

[...] This on Thursday, May 1. F. Halliday could not believe the parking lot idea, saying she had been told a “circular driveway” was all that had been planned, curving around the doctor’s house next door, and not disturbing much property. She had no idea that much of the yard on the side of the house, from the street to the far back fence, had been earmarked by our landlord for sale to Dr Levine for a parking lot.

[...] On Thursday and Friday, May 1 & 2, surveyors were at work on the property, laying out the dimensions for a proposed parking lot that would run from W. Water St, in front of the house, to the back fence of the property, some hundred feet.)

(“How about the deal for the house itself?”)

[...] The woman wants the house badly. [...]

Your changes in the house represent other breakthroughs, and a certain centering that is important and beneficial to both of you. [...] In making the house your own you straighten out your own beliefs and release your emotions and abilities.

(3rd Question: Can you say something about wine or the wine house? [...] See the wine house data-interpretation on page 23. [...]

[...] A distant connection with wine or a wine house. [...]

(“Can you say something about wine or the wine house?”

[...] That card was sent to us by Leonard Yaudes, who also lives in the apartment house. [...]

[...] Then to my amazement I saw that the supposed animal was actually the broken remnants of a hollow, life-sized metal statue of a deer that had stood for years in the front yard of a house on Harrison Street, in Sayre, at the other end of town. The house had been owned by the Maynards, who had no children. When my next-youngest brother and I were in grade school, our family had lived a few houses down Harrison from the Maynards. [...]

“In vivid color: I lived in my parents’ house at 704 North Wilbur Avenue, in Sayre, Pennsylvania. [...] That the house had long been sold, that my parents had died in the early 1970s, and that Jane and I had been married for 26 years and lived in Elmira, New York, were irrelevant in the dream. [...]

“Years ago, after my brothers and I had left 704 to follow our own life paths, the Brenner family had built a house next door to our parents’ place. [...]

[...] In physical life the Brenner house sits where the court had existed. [...]

(Friday, May 15, 9:15 PM: Brief glimpse of two house painters in white coveralls hauling selves up the side of a white house on some kind of automatic scaffold; pulled themselves up by means of ropes running over their shoulders. [...]

[...] On April 18 Miss Callahan was moved to a local rest home, the Town House.

(On Wednesday, May 13, Miss Callahan’s relatives asked Jane if we could move Miss Callahan’s blue divan into our apartment, and in its place let them take a hide-away bed we had in storage; this bed to be used for a nurse who was to live with Miss Callahan when she was brought home from the Town House. [...]