“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(I’d been upset and encouraged at the same time by the cigarette episode Jane had described to me just before the session. [...] “You never saw me move so fast in your whole life.” [...]

(When I got to 330 this afternoon Jane pointed out to me that she wore no dressing on her right elbow or the little toes of her left foot. [...]

[...] I massaged it a bit until she told me to stop. [...]

[...] Finally Jane told me to get out my paper and pen. [...]

[...] “Give me a cigarette—maybe that’ll wake me up,” she said. [...] “I have the feeling he’s way back there,” she said, “waiting for me to get ready....” At 9:26 she asked me to turn off the TV set: I’d had it on to watch the World Series, without sound, glancing at it once in a while from my place at the card table. [...]

[...] This is far better than she could do even a couple of weeks ago, although I think it was back then that she first showed me a slight increase in knee motion. [...]

Now: once again, I come to give me assurance. [...]

(What did develop was that my boss at work, at 11:50 AM, called me on the phone–he happened to be at the company’s other plant on Elmira’s southside at the time–and asked me to put in more time on the job as a regular routine. As soon as the secretary told me who was calling me, I intuitively knew what the call was about and was prepared as I picked up the receiver.

[...] It gives me time for myself in the afternoons to paint—an arrangement that I have learned is very necessary, even vital, to my well-being both physically and mentally. [...]

[...] I thanked him for offering me the extra income. [...]

[...] However, I did not want to fail to arrive when I felt that you expected me. [...]

(Her talk veered around to the fact that once again she said she was thinking of dying — in her sleep, maybe — in order to get some peace of mind, and to give me some. [...] She told me I’d have a great life after her death, and be free myself.

known to me alone.

[...] Jane finally told me that she’d had a very rough morning, although during the night she’d mostly done rather well.

(She said all of this in that matter-of-fact voice she’d used the last time, that she’d told me similar things about her death, before Seth had said very recently that she wasn’t going to die now, no matter what she thought or said. [...]

You may call me whatever you choose. [...] It fits the me of me, the personality most clearly approximating the whole self I am, or am trying to be. [...]

[...] Once she spoke through me. [...]

[...] She was medium reaching me for you. [...]

[...] Many months ago, Jane and a friend had succeeded in putting me into a trance state. [...]

[...] moveable; a few things came to me. [...] Then thought, nearly crying: I cut down desire—like loving to shop, and am afraid now to mix with people—then said Rob would help me there—in decent walking shape surely my attitude would be entirely different—so different it’s hard for me to imagine then to the importance that I make distinctions between the natural world; and the social or cultural one. [...]

AM—read S. Sessions for me. [...]

[...] My eyes were bothering me some, but I typed some James this afternoon; then Frank came in at 3:30; and Margaret B. came in to visit; I was annoyed; tired of people about, etc., but tried to be pleasant; as we chatted I felt my right foot and ankle changing. [...]

2. Me—stop concentrating on the symptoms, particularly when I’m writing.

3. Each morning in bed or after breakfast Rob to remind me to trust the physician within and the ancient wisdom of the body—those words.

4. Few moments of deep breathing twice a day, me.

[...] On June 23, I dreamed that the publisher of my first book called, giving me all kinds of information about sales. On June 29, Tam wrote me an encouraging letter asking me for the sales figures on my first book.

On February 12, 1966, I dreamed that I was on a bed, with Rob on one side of me and another man nearby. [...] Then the doctor reassured me that only one baby was involved. [...]

[...] On April 29, I lay down, telling myself I would have a dream giving me some information, letting me know whether or not a contract would be signed. [...]

Again Rob assured me that I wasn’t dreaming, but now I was sure that I was and afraid that I was about to awaken. Rob handed me the letter. [...]

He looked right through me, taking no notice of me at all. [...] I looked at him fully in the face, running ahead of him, ready to confront him with “What’s the matter with you?” But, instead, I realized that he didn’t see me. He never saw me at all.

Unknowingly, in my poetry I had barely begun to form some concepts that would help me. Just before the sessions began the idea of “The Idiot” came to me as a symbol of inner truth that appears to be complete nonsense to the reasoning mind at times; or at best, highly impractical in normal living. [...]

[...] Miss Cunningham, Rob, me and all the people that we knew were surely getting shot down; falling through time, we were dying in a descent that we couldn’t understand or control. Either that, or Seth and the material — still so strange to me — were giving answers that I refused, so far, to accept in practical terms.

And while I persisted in my uncertainity, Seth continued to explain the nature of the interior universe, giving clues and hints that I would eventually follow, laying down the framework that would allow me to deal with precisely those questions that concerned me.

[...] Now Jane told me however, that she was feeling “panicky.” [...] Then she said she thought her fright was connected to her fear of abandonment as a child—and that she would finally make life so miserable for me that I’d leave her. [...]

[...] After supper she told me to come out for the session at 8:15, but I was still working on these notes at 8:45, and she hadn’t called me. [...]

(Yesterday, Jane wrote for me, at my request, a few lines about Seth’s remark in last Saturday’s session, to the effect that she’s been picking up some unusual versions of perception lately. [...]

(Shortly after I’d finished with the call, Jane asked me a question: “Does the name M-i-l-n-e-r mean anything to you?”

[...] She called to me from a car making a left turn off the Walnut Street bridge, by Water St. Jane & I were standing on the lawn by our apartment house. When I heard Shirley call me I had my thrilling sensation. [...] This is the only time that I know of, so far, when someone has called me Robert. [...]

(Such simple expedients had not, of course, occurred to me. [...] The fact that I had taken a journey was very surprising to me; I had not thought of my experience in that way at all.)

[...] I was leaning against the endpipe, or post, of a modern, steel meshwork type of fence that reached rather high above me—several feet in fact. Before me was a very large parking lot, full of cars. [...]

(In back of me, to my left and on the other side of the fence, was some kind of long dark building. [...] The scene reminded me of Clute’s used-car lot here in Elmira, but was not it.

[...] Seth told me I would become a very well-known painter; Ruburt, he said, knew nothing about artists’ agents or their locations in New York City, he said for the record, adding that there is an agent on 62nd street who can be of great help to me. [...] He did not give me the agent’s name. Seth told me I have been working to free my intuitions; I already have enough discipline. [...]

[...] Seth confirmed that at that time he had almost come through, and Jane later told me she had been aware of this, without feeling impelled to have a session.

[...] You will have to bear with me here.... [...]

(Seth told me that as the years passed and these sessions continued both Jane and I would become more and more sure that he is what he says he is—an energy personality essence. [...]

[...] If you will not listen to me when you are awake because it is too late, then I shall be like a recording machine so that you learn while you sleep. [...] Joking aside, I will speak to those now here this evening while you sleep, and you may ask me what questions you have. [...] Now when I speak to you, you may remember me, but you may very well see me as you think I am. [...]

You will forgive me if I do not attend that particular class. [...]

I have spoken to our Lady of Florence over there on several occasions, in the dream state, since she will not hear me any other way. [...]

[...] But you cannot bribe yourself, much less me. [...]

[...] The call scared me at that hour. [...] They couldn’t get her comfortable, she wasn’t eating breakfast, and she wanted me to come down. [...]

(Jane cried as she told me things I hadn’t heard before. [...] She came up with a number of memories new to me — like going to the youth center on Saratoga Springs’ lower Broadway on weekend evenings to dance and socialize, and so forth. [...]

[...] Jane stared at me intently as I spoke each word.

[...] Staff had a party and lots of goodies to eat, so a nurse put together more food for Jane and me. [...]

Dream 1—I was looking at some weird contraption, maybe mechanical, that my father had made, to leave me some money after his death; money was supposed to come out of it. A nice old man, sort of a kindly bum, came by and told me father had made it two hours before his death so that I’d have some inheritance; and the old man might have had a key that worked it; I’m not sure; but there was something about a key.... [...]

[...] Then the man with me and I began to backtrack down the ledge the way we came. Rob awakened me here.

[...] It is more difficult for me to form questions than for me to answer them. [...] You do not need to answer it at any time, to me.... [...]

[...] and you would not be sitting beside me. [...] You will know that the ability is within yourself and you have used it—then you may hit me over the head with your crutches and I will laugh!

He seems like a very nice gentleman to me. [...]

[...] Our Lady from Venice has made some progress, for since I spoke to you last, you finally took me to heart. [...]

[...] It is more difficult for me to form questions than for me to answer them. [...] You do not need to answer it at any time, to me. [...]

He seems like a very nice gentleman to me. [...]

[...] Our Lady from Florence has made some progress for, since I spoke to you last, you finally took me to heart. [...]

[...] And any problems that you have I have had them—so look at me and know how indestructible you are! [...]

“I am in this room, although there is no object within which you can place me. [...] I borrow Ruburt’s [Seth’s name for me; in addition, Seth always speaks of me as male] with his consent, but what I am is not dependent upon atoms and molecules and what you are is not dependent upon physical matter. [...]

Seth spoke through me for over two hours, so quickly that the students had trouble taking notes. [...] Later one of the students, Carol, told me that although she knew the words were coming from my mouth, still she felt that they were coming from all over, from the walls themselves.

Before I was twenty, then, I’d left behind me that archaic God, the Virgin, and the communion of saints. [...] This particular group of chemicals and atoms I called “me” would fall into no such traps—at least none that I could recognize.

[...] Though you cannot find me, know that I am here. [...]

[...] “Do I act any nuttier than usual?” Rob solemnly assured me that there had been no change in my behavior. Actually he had been watching for such signs, and so had I. But Dr. Stevenson’s well-meaning warning did throw me for somewhat of a loop, even though we had read the same cautions ourselves in some of our psychic books.

[...] … Now Ruburt assembles me or allows me to assemble myself in a way that will be recognizable to you, but regardless of this, I exist in an independent manner.”

[...] He could see and hear me as Seth and I couldn’t. Now during break I questioned him again. I hated to have to depend on someone else to tell me what was going on, but I had learned one thing: I couldn’t be Jane and Seth at once. [...]

When I’m reacting emotionally and Rob gives me a reasonable reply, it always puts me on the defensive. [...]

[...] A man was directly beneath me, and slightly ahead of me. [...]

As far as I was concerned, I had enough evidence to convince me that both episodes were legitimate. They started me on my own work in out-of-body experiments, in which I’m still trying to find answers to the many questions posed by such phenomena. [...]

[...] He varied the depth of my trances during tests so I could get the feel of various stages of consciousness, and also showed me how to let him use my own personal associations in order to get certain data. He used the tests to demonstrate ESP; but more, he gave me constant practice in changing my subjective focus, explaining the whole thing as he went along.

Our own tests gave me a standard against which to measure my performance and Seth’s, providing an immediate check of accuracy and teaching me to sharpen my subjective focus to go from the general to the specific. [...]