“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Re the energy coming from in back of me: Jane said some kind of projection may have been involved here. Part of her consciousness was at an elevated spot on the wall in back of me. Actually the wall didn’t exist, Jane said, merely this dot or spot of consciousness in back of me. Jane did not see me from the spot, nor herself. Yet from this spot behind me there was a part of Jane’s or Seth’s consciousness with energy coming out like a cone, again.

(Jane was really “fooled” when she opened her eyes and saw her position. She thought the chair was several feet to her own right, closer to our wall-to-ceiling bookcase. “I thought that me, the whole bit where I’m sitting, and me, it seemed to me that I was over there,” she said, pointing to her right side. This reminded her of the recent session when she momentarily seemed to be speaking as Seth from near the same bookcase.

(“From behind me?”)

(When Seth directed energy at me in the beginning, Jane saw my erect penis straight, then in a pyramid shape, with the end “rising up and up like Pinocchio’s nose,” she said. It was as though there was a very elongated pyramid over the penis, she said.

My hospital adventure is still symbolic and literal to me in the most intimate of terms. It’s made me think often about the tremendous variety of reassurances the “dead” can choose to offer the “living.” A number of Jane’s readers have sent me communications they claim to have received for me from Jane in her after-death state. [...] But since I believe the Seth Material is valid, it would be very arrogant of me to think that none of Jane’s readers except me had legitimately tuned into her where she is now or perhaps touched upon her world view.

[...] Are her messages really from Jane, or is she “only” telepathically picking up from me what I want to hear, and flashing it back to me from her trance states — as communications from Jane? [...] Nor would the idea of reaching Jane’s world view be considered, or telepathy from me, for both of those concepts are scientifically unacceptable. The most parsimonious view — the simplest, stingiest one — would be that through studying the Seth Material Valerie subconsciously divines the replies I want from my dead wife, and in all subjective innocence comes through with her trance messages for me, to fit my own stubborn belief in Jane’s survival.

You will join me as I have joined others.
No physical form or physical thought
can express my existence.
The term love, with its message
of caring for another,
is the most important of our
messages in the physical.
Seth Two is to me now what Seth was to you.
I am a step higher but not removed.
Yet, I have changed enough since “my
death” that it is difficult,
at times, to relate to your existence.
The love and the emotions you feel are
the connectives between us.
My love for you has not changed but expanded
in a way you do not comprehend.
Physical needs are for physical beings,
and I understand and know this.
Touch is important at your level.
My new or returned mind loves you more
deeply than in our earth time together,
but it is also much more
understanding of physical need.
When I said, “Be for me as I would
be for thee,” I didn’t mean to limit you.
Be the physical person you need to be,
as you are physical for a limited and
for a purposeful reason.
Enjoy physical reality between others,
for the mind endures and exists
beyond your understanding and existence.
I love you as you were
and as we will be.
Your now is for you to enjoy.
I never judge your actions, and this
I repeat with love and utmost understanding.
Be yourself and in being yourself
you will be for me as I would be for thee.
You do well and I watch you often.
Continue to love physical life
while you are physical.

[...] They didn’t want to hurt me further. [...] My visitors reminded me anew of how private an event Jane’s death is for me, yet how universal it is. [...]

[...] It knows how to heal me. [...] This infinite healing presence within me is now transforming every atom of my being, making me whole and perfect now. I give thanks for the healing I know is taking place now: Wonderful are the works of the creative intelligence within me.

(The infinite intelligence which gave me this desire to paint leads, guides, and reveals to me the perfect plan for the unfolding of my desire. [...]

[...] It is responding to me now. I give thanks because I know the infinite intelligence of my subconscious knows all things and is revealing the perfect answer to me now. [...]

(“Infinite intelligence attracts me to the buyers for each of my paintings. [...] Each buyer is sent to me by the creative intelligence of my subconscious mind, which makes no mistakes. [...]

(Jane hadn’t shown me any of these poems as she wrote them over a period of some four and a half years. She didn’t keep them from me deliberately. [...] At the same time, it’s as though she’s just finished the poems, so fresh and consistent do they seem to me. And as I reread them I understand once again that my wife is still teaching me about her courage, and about the ineffable, unending mystery of the universe that each one of us is creating moment by moment, separately and all together.

lord let me remember how it was
when i nudged my skin
against the touch of each new morning
and bounded through
the thick thought-forests
that stretched between dawn and noon,
when like magic my lunch was put before me.
lord let me remember how it was
when i was so new
that i thought i was part of the morning.

lord let me remember how it was
when i nuzzled the air in the morning
and thought i could wiggle a distant leaf
just as i moved my own ears and toes.
i thought that i caused rain to fall
just as the tears from my own eyes
wet my cheeks,
and that my thoughts turned into clouds
that circled the top of my head.

[...] As Jane wrote then about drawing strength from me by touching my arm, in April 1980 she touched my heart when I found this poem:)

My parents did not lead me into untruth

me into

the day is given to me

the earth grows about me, and all is given

[...] Such a tremendous amount of energy surged through me that I didn’t know what to do. For a moment it sent me reeling, and Jack caught my arm. This only embarrassed me further. [...] I always tried to behave very sensibly to show that a trance was not a strange but a very natural phenomenon, and so my momentary stagger caught me by surprise. Rob was beside me in a moment, and I explained how I felt. [...] I grabbed my bun and coffee and took them with me.

Above all, it deepened my trust in Seth and in his psychological insight and impressed me once again with the remarkable abilities of the inner intuitive self, for it is this part of me that makes communication with Seth possible. For another thing, because of the program format the trance was cut short, and this gave me the opportunity to study the trance phenomenon from a different angle.

It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that in dream life I’m writing a book about waking consciousness just as, with my waking consciousness, I’m writing about the reality of dreams. It wouldn’t astonish me either to learn that Seth in an entirely different dimension speaks for a personality called Jane. [...] Seth, however, is far more knowledgeable than I am, so if he were speaking for me, then I’m afraid he would get the lesser end of the bargain.

When I came out of trance, Rob was smiling, Jack and Sonja looked dazed, the camera crew were staring at me and the program was over. “Seth was great,” Rob said to me. [...]

[...] “Please, Bob, move me, move me, but don’t swing me so far out into the room, out in the middle like that....” [...] There was a little shouting at me—very little—which I didn’t record, but no tears. [...]

[...] She wants me to call Dr. Kardon to come to the house to examine Jane, saying we owe it to Dr. K., who couldn’t know the extent of Jane’s symptoms these days. [...] The only thing that’s stopping me at the moment is Seth’s latest comments on the bedsores clearing themselves up automatically as Jane releases inner motion. [...]

[...] She got mad at me briefly just now when I demanded to know if I would really get a session tonight: “Bob, I’m trying as hard as I can. [...] A few minutes ago she’d told me that she had to have the session in order to get rid of the anxiety-hallucination complex. [...]

[...] “It’s me.... I just need a puff on a cigarette, or your arms around me or something. [...]

Rob asked me what was wrong. [...] My body then was very light — weightless to me, anyway. [...] Rob told me to get up. [...] He had to help me to the couch. [...]

Rob made coffee for me. [...] Rob made me drink two cups of coffee. He had me stand with my head out of the kitchen window in the cold night air, but nothing seemed to help. [...]

[...] Rob asked me to lift a coffee cup with a normal gesture. (Earlier, he had held the cup while I sipped the coffee.) I concentrated as hard as I could on what he wanted me to do — which seemed hilarious to me, and an impossible task — and then really made a supreme physical effort. [...]

[...] This frightened me a bit further, since I couldn’t exert enough pressure to use the keys. [...] To me they were as light as air. [...]

[...] When JA examined me I got a very pleasant surprise, for he told me that my eyes had improved over last time, and that they were now bothering me because my present glasses were getting to be too strong. [...] Moreover, when the new lenses were assembled in his machine for me to check my vision, I was able to read 15-20 [or 20-15?], another improvement over the normal 20-20.

[...] The symptoms, rather strong at times, bothered me through the afternoon, and prevented me from napping comfortably. [...]

[...] of course, was very upset by my chest difficulty, telling me after her nap that she was very worried, bothered of course by the fact that she’d asked me to wash windows. [...]

(First, though: Last week I received from our eye doctor, Jim Adams, the usual card telling me that it had been two years since my eyes had been examined and new glasses prescribed. [...]

[...] And instead of rousing sympathy in me his downcast mood had the opposite effect; I don’t care if you came from Timbuktu by refugee ship, I thought. His call reminded me finally of his letter and my response that I wouldn’t be able to see him during his trip. [...] Still, vaguely uneasy I called off a half-planned evening of company with friends—luckily before I’d actually invited them, and we had a Seth session instead, still another in an effort to get me out of my own physical problems. [...]

Peg told me he was in his forties; he told her he’d written me but probably left before I could answer the letter. [...]

[...] Tells me a big shot at Bantam called liking God of Jane and inquiring about paperback rights, assures me our paperbacks are selling okay. [...]

[...] He told me that Prentice had called about a radio-phone show and that I was to return the call. [...]

(“Will you say something about that woman—Teresa—who keeps crying out ‘Help me, help me, help me?’ I’m fascinated by her.”)

[...] “Your wife won’t be speaking to me anymore, after what I did to her this morning,” Georgia said to me as I walked down the hall to 330. [...]

(I did got to a cocktail party the Leahys had invited me to after all. There was enough snow when I left the hospital to make me take it quite easy driving home. [...]

[...] “It’s me,” Jane said. [...]

[...] I was going to record some memories that suddenly came to me yesterday morning. Of the last few months or so I spent at my mother’s house—when she called me time after time during those spring and summer months of 1950: she wanted her pillows turned, she cried out in rage and pain—and here I was some 30 years later, calling out to Rob (voice breaking) to move my pillows or raise my head. [...]

[...] I honestly thought I’d put most of that behind me—yet my early novels all dealt with the relationship between my mother and others, in various guises, and I know I was afraid that somehow she’d end up turning me into her. [...]

[...] She told me that sometime she walked in the night, and that some night she’d turn on the gas jets and kill us both. I really don’t know if it’s such a good idea to go over such memories or not, but since they came to mind I decided finally to have Rob write them down for me. [...]

[...] I thought that was perfectly natural, but extending those feelings for the next 30 years would seem to be too much in nature’s scheme—as I’ve said before, it doesn’t seem to me that nature necessarily wants things to work that way, while making perfectly possible the fact that they can, if one chooses. This may be a case of things being redeemed on a “higher” level, I suppose—reminding me of material I’ve been dealing with recently in the intro for Seth/Jane’s Dreams.

[...] If I ever had any doubts … what-ever’s going on, it’s not coming from me, not from my own personality.” Later in my own notes I wrote, “… tremendous energy seemed to flow through me, with the definite certainty—thank God—that this was coming from beyond me, and was automatically translated into words at my end. [...]

[...] I’m always aware of the pyramid shape above me just before this personality speaks. [...] This time, though, at the narrow end far above me I saw the same giant head, peering down at me and the room as through a microscope. [...]

[...] The Seth personality that is part of me is the portion that can most clearly communicate with you. Do you follow me?”

Rob called me several times, getting no response. [...] The powerful energy kept flowing through me. [...]

[...] Through all of this, I use the word I, yet these things were happening and “I” was a part of the action so a part, that it was difficult to separate me from it. [...] So this time “I” found myself, pulled myself together, briefly found voice while personality was silent and just as I was seeing the giant face peer down over me, at pyramid top, at me, and room. Rob brought me out by touching me.

[...] In second episode I discovered that there were ways of “finding my I” I guess, and ending experience, by motioning Rob to touch me, or shake me, which breaks trance. [...] Oh; and earlier, Seth came back through and helped me “down”; but this last time he didn’t and I couldn’t seem to “find him.”

[...] For a moment I wondered again if trance depth was sufficient as sounds in room bothered me. [...]

[...] Very vivid; frightening to me simply because I was not prepared for anything like this, it had never happened before; etc.

In other words, the emotional charges allow me to hunt for the item that you want me to identify. [...] I identify first of all with the emotional realities, for these are the only basic realities to me. [...]

[...] To me, a thought is an action. [...] The emotional feelings connected with an item are as real to me as the item itself. [...]

[...] If you give me for example a card that was sent with love, then the love is far more real to me than the card. [...]

[...] The emotional charge connected with an item may lead me into both your past and present, but I must then distinguish for you between what has happened and what will happen, although for me no such difference exists.

This does not mean that the demonstration serves no purpose, for all of my demonstrations serve a purpose and this one is to show that there is indeed a vitality that lives beyond the grave and that there is joy, and the personality continues to exist for this most willing and friendly associative man can permit me to speak in the most fearless and carefree tones. For this is hardly the end and I am here to tell you it is quite possible for me to continue on such a demonstration until your very eardrums will plead to me for mercy. [...]

[...] When circumstances are at their best then he allows me to come through clearly, but he is concerned over issues that are only of surface importance as far as the volume of the voice is concerned, and he is only now learning control. [...] Your hour has little to do with me however and I merely defer to your wishes. [...]

[...] Now I am here in a fairly undistorted form and you will recognize me and remember me when I come here again, and I will know you. [...]

[...] There are questions that you would ask me, and I shall answer them in time and as the opportunity presents itself. [...]

[...] I’d known she had something to tell me after lunch, but hadn’t expected this. I had absolutely no reaction to the news at all — and at once remembered my total lack of reaction when our lawyer had told me that the insurance business was settled. [...]

[...] I had her help me fill out the menu, for I’d decided it was useless for me to continue putting items on it that she never touched.

(I did finally express some anger as the time approached for me to leave. [...] It got to me. [...]

[...] She asked me about the time quite often.

(I also told Pete that Andy Fife had told me that Jane had been rejected by the other facilities in the area, because in their opinion she required too much personal care. This was news to Jane and me; I’d forgotten that Jean Sweeney-Dun had taken me around to those places months ago. [...]

[...] Pete said that few such cases go to litigation—which surprised me a bit. [...] I gave him the names and phone number of Kathy Hagen, the Blue Cross supervisor who had seemingly turned down our major medical claim, and read to him the statement as to why that Andrew Fife had given me yesterday afternoon. [...]

(I told Jane Margaret Bumbalo called me at 12:30, as I was getting ready to leave the house, and told me there were two does in her backyard—so I had to take a few minutes to watch them. [...]

(I didn’t have time to go into it today, but Seth’s material reminded me anew that I know my own mother had managed to make me afraid of certain areas of life—that as I grew up, then left home and had to manipulate in the world, I became quite aware that I’d acquired certain fears or inhibitions. [...]

[...] Background: Last PM Seth gave a session for me and this dream seems to be in direct response to it. [...] At breakfast when Rob read me the session I grew very relaxed and had to lie down. [...]

[...] He asked me to vacuum his room, nonchalantly as if it were taken for granted that I perform the chore. [...]

Later insights disconnected from dream come to me during the day:

1. I don’t have to be embarrassed that Seth gives so many sessions for me; plenty of people go to doctors or therapists all their lives and this is at a much more complex level. [...]

I just snorted when Rob told me about this data after the session. Still, the session impressed me. [...] This feeling was directed at me as well as at Rob, which meant that it wasn’t coming from me. After the session was over, it seemed to follow me out into the kitchen while I finished the dishes.

This method suits me temperamentally. It seems to me that automatic writing could become like an institution. [...] Often they remind me of other things I would like to say … I have never trusted the written word half as much as I trust the spoken word, and on your plane it is difficult to trust either, but as I mentioned, I always enjoyed conversation, which is the liveliest of the arts.

[...] There were voices and footsteps in the hall, Rob told me later, but I was not bothered at all. [...] The suspension and suspense is killing me. [...]

Because Ruburt deals in words, it is easy for me to communicate in this way. He automatically translates inner data given by me into coherent, valid and faithful camouflage patterns. [...]