“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] In August of that year — 1985 — she moved to Elmira to work with me in a number of ways. She helped me carry on the massive project of continuing the work that Debbie Harris had begun: copying many more of the thousands of pages of Jane’s and my work for the archives of the library at Yale. [...] She helped me proofread Seth, Dreams, and Projection of Consciousness for Stillpoint Publishing. Later, she helped me proofread the new editions of Seth Speaks and The Nature of Personal Reality that Amber-Allen/New World Library has published. [...]

I’m very fortunate that the help of all of those I’ve mentioned, and of others, too, is enabling me to keep the promise I made to Jane on her deathbed ten years ago, when she asked me to publish all of her work. I know that my wife lives within me now, as I do within her “where she is now” — just as we shared ourselves with each other throughout the nearly twenty-nine years of our marriage. [...]

[...] Janet told me, after publishing the first two reprints, that she “would like to publish all of the books at once.” [...]

(Emphatically.) I am now you see so a part of his system at this moment that no part of his consciousness can sit aside and isolate me. He would like to isolate me and observe me. When he allows himself more freedom,he will be able to sense me in definite terms, though as a rule not during a session.

The very freedom will give me more leeway in making my presence known to him. I am so a part of him during sessions you see (smile), that he cannot observe me or my presence, and this is a source of irritation to him. [...]

[...] Jane’s eyes were wide open and very dark, and she pointed continually at me as she spoke. [...]

[...] Some of the time Jane had been flat on her back as she spoke to me. [...]

I do not wish to become so involved that you literally screech at me for explanations. Nevertheless, once you asked me about the weather where I am, and I put you off. [...]

It is much easier for me to deal with other people’s illnesses and health nuisances, than it is to deal with Ruburt’s. He asks me a question and then slams the ego gates down, refusing to hear the answer. [...]

(While giving me the above data, Jane as Seth asked me if I was tired, and I said no although my hand was somewhat cramped. [...]

(Before giving me the shot in his office, the doctor gave me a skin test for sensitivity, which proved negative. [...]

[...] John took the car after leaving me at the hospital, and called at 6:45 to say “mission accomplished,” that all were home now. He picked me up at 7:05. The weather is poor, and we had a couple of fairly close calls as he drove me home. I told him to have Margaret call me when I can visit them.

(Jane gave it to me yesterday afternoon: “Daredevils, Death-Defiers, and Health.”)

(4:40 p.m. “That reminded me of the old days,” Jane said, pleased at the way the session had come through.

[...] I believe this is a reference to the letter Bill Ward sent me with the art work I received Sunday, October 23. [...] Also keep in mind that the bill used as object represents pencils and paper stumps I bought in order to finish the job Bill sent to me.

(To my surprise last Friday, October 21, I received a call from an old friend, Bill Ward, with whom I used to do comic books about 1940-2. He asked me to help him, probably on a regular basis, with some work, and I said yes. [...]

(I was greatly surprised Friday to have Bill Ward tell me that Wendell Crowley’s 10-year-old daughter died of a heart attack while playing softball. [...]

Do you have an envelope for me?

(To me:) Now, you remember, because of one of your experiences and something I said in a session—or, rather, another portion of me said in a session —having to do with the fact that Seth II, if you could perceive him, would be as small as a brown nut. [...]

[...] And our record-keeper over here (me) will also understand what you are doing.

[...] Do you follow me?

[...] My crude drawing can’t begin to reproduce the delicate, shimmering and transparent beauty of what I briefly saw floating before me.)

[...] Far be it from me to interrupt when you are not working; when you are not looking within yourselves. [...] But far be it from me to mention that you have not been working. [...]

[...] Bega is there and I will let you tell me which portrait is his. You may ask Bega or tell me. [...]

[...] And in me the knowledge and vitality of that Seth still rings. [...] But the terms are meaningless to me, for he is what I was, in your terms. [...]

(Very late in the evening, Ned Watkins woke me to express concern because of the length of the session tonight—at perhaps 1 AM or later. [...]

[...] Jane told me that in hydro this morning she’d felt new movement in her right leg—the broken one—that it both tried to move more, and to straighten out more. [...]

(Then Jane told me she wanted to have a little session.)

He had another brief-enough surge of blueness this morning (which Jane didn’t tell me about), and the sessions enabled him to cut such experiences short, or to nip them in the bud, so to speak. [...]

[...] He was able to hold the small green plastic bowl with much more confidence this morning—to hold it evenly (Jane didn’t tell me about that, either). [...]

(I became absorbed in the task, and had just obtained the answer when Jane called me from the front room at 8:55. [...] When I took my seat at our table in the living room just before 9 PM Jane told me she had felt surprisingly nervous at my absence so close to the session; hence her calling to me. [...]

(The pendulum told me Jane did not feel this way, and after the session she agreed. Nevertheless the pendulum told me I felt some anger at myself on this score, hence the stiff neck. I had not reached any such neat conception as “a pain in the neck” before Jane called me. [...]

[...] This at once reminded me of a most definite event, involving Jane and me, that was not appreciated. [...]

[...] The incident had upset me considerably, in a way that would not bother me now.

(It came to me that what bothers me about the kind of book I opened today is their limited viewpoint. [...]

[...] Then she told me to get the mirror, lipstick, and eyebrow pencil. [...]

[...] She had a cigarette, and told me that both hands were still improving and changing. [...]

(“What do you think of the dream I had, about Leonard, Jane and me moving back to 458 West Water Street?”)

[...] For you also react to me unknowingly on the basis of other relationships with me that you do not consciously recall.

[...] To me that is your personality, but this is only a small part of your overall self. To me it is as if you had finished one life, you see. [...]

(To me.) I speak to you as Joseph, and all unknowingly you react as Joseph; (leans forward) for Robert F. Butts alone, or Jane Roberts alone, would never have met me.

[...] Do you follow me?

[...] She suddenly asked me to lay the paper dish holding the cake on her lap, and to give her the spoon. [...] She said she’d asked mentally that she have some new development to show me on Christmas Day. [...]

[...] Jane and I exchanged our own gifts—candy for her, designer jeans—black and gray—for me [to my great surprise].

[...] And it was a lesson for me. [...]

[...] This reminded me of the bitterly cold days when I did the same thing years ago while working at Artistic Card Company—the job that brought us to Elmira. [...]

[...] Laurel Lee Davies, a native of Iowa, wrote to me from California after Jane’s death in September 1984, She was 29, I was 65. [...] Laurel has been a marvelous help to me for all of the years we’ve been together, just as I’ve tried to help her. I’ve often thought, and hesitantly told her, that I think she saved me after Jane’s passing. [...]

[...] My wife’s later deleted material even contains a complete and unpublished book that she delivered just for me, about the artist Rembrandt van Rijn. Page by page, Jane presented her gift to me during the last year of her life, when she was hospitalized. [...]

[...] It’s loaded with memories for me. [...] And I speculate that Jane and Seth watch Laurel and me with much amusement now as we manipulate that quality called “time” on our journeys back and forth between the two houses…

[...] Then there’s Jane’s business and personal correspondence; much of her poetry; her journals; her unfinished autobiography; several novels she wrote before publishing the three Oversoul Seven books; the later essays she dictated to me, while in the hospital, about Seven’s childhood; her family history as far back as it can be researched; an objective biography of her physical and creative lives including her two marriages, and Jane’s and my struggles to survive before the advent of the Seth material. [...]

(Added Note: Timothy Foote also told Jane and me that he’d like to do a feature story on Jane, Seth and me for Time Magazine, but that it probably wouldn’t ever be done—the magazine being “too secular”—Timothy Foote’s words. [...]

(Timothy Foote, senior editor in charge of the book review department for Time Magazine, interviewed Jane and me today in connection with a cover story he is to write about Richard Bach and Jonathan Livingston Seagull.

(Some time later Jane told me she picked up that when Seth spoke Timothy was suspicious—“Seth would speak now, you see, in order to make an impression,” etc.

[...] Jane, liking Timothy Foote, told me later that had he stayed for the evening she would have had a session for him; yet we feel there were reasons he didn’t stay, and that things worked out for the best all around.

[...] For you would not be strengthened, but you would be relying upon me; and any errors, dear friend, would also be laid to me.

[...] Now I will tell you something, dear friend, and I hope sincerely that in later years you thank me, though I do not believe you will thank me now.

…It occurs to me that much of this may be new to you. [...]

[...] You have not asked me, Stephen, the right questions for you. [...]

Now if you must project your ideas upon me, then instead of projecting upon me the image of the wise old man, I would prefer, instead, you project upon me the image of a skylark in the morning. [...]

[...] In the meantime it is an excellent tool but the true wisdom within you, once again, allows your body to spontaneously breathe as you listen to me, refreshes yourselves as you listen to me, collects from realities that you do not perceive, infinite potentials of energy that fill your being as you listen to me. [...]

It does you all good to think for yourselves in class and not have me around telling you how to think of time. [...] And while I have been egotistical in many of my lives, I do not need you all to set me up as an authority figure to whom you can relate so I would like to see some freedom on your own parts directed and applied. [...]

I use words because presently they make sense to you but hopefully behind the words that I speak, you sense the inner vitality which has no need for them and hopefully listening to me, you sense, if only dimly, the wisdom of the self within each of you that is triumphant in its own wisdom, its own spontaneous freewheeling wisdom upon which your intellect rests. [...] And yet it seems to me, if I remember correctly, that idiot flowers, without a brain in their petals, manage to grow beautifully into what they are and to perfectly do their thing. [...]

(Tonight, then, I was quite surprised when Jane roused herself enough to tell me that she wanted to have a session, no matter how brief it was. “It’s been on my mind today,” she said, but she hadn’t mentioned it to me. [...]

[...] The idea of uprooting our entire lives at this time seems far out—especially, I told her, when she couldn’t even go with me to look at houses. If in a couple of months, say, she is able to accompany me to look at houses, I’ll be delighted. [...]

(The session, brief as it was, gave me an odd surge of hope—because of the news involving Sheri and healing, and because I hadn’t expected the session. [...]

(Now Jane said she’d forgotten to tell me—but today she’d definitely felt a couple of times that she’d been psychically in touch with Sheri and the people in England. [...]

[...] And it was because you knew me in one particular past life and had empathy toward me then that you are so aware of me in the dream state. [...]

[...] You all dwell in dimensions that know no place and no time, and so Ruburt is correct for when you ask me of places and times I answer you in terms of places and times, and when you know enough to ask me questions that do not have to do with places and times then you will understand more of your own identity, the nature of your existence and the abilities that are inherent within you. [...]

You did not need to wait for me to say good evening. You need not stand or sit upon ceremony, but in case you are waiting for me to formally bid you good evening I do now here forthwith do so. [...]

([Rachel:] “Tell me why I can’t remember.”)

[...] In any event, she got up with me rather easily this morning [Tuesday], and told me her knees felt better than they had in some time. [...]

[...] My pendulum also told me that communication problems involving Jane, other than the TV show question, caused the “cold,” etc.

You will have to let me handle this in my own way—the matter of your symptoms and Ruburt’s knees, but for a starter we will begin with you. [...]

[...] Do you follow me?

[...] You and he must see to it then (Jane pointed vigorously at me) that he does not color his experiences with me through reading material that ‘is highly camouflaged and distorted, even though the distortion is well-meaning.

[...] The Seth personality that is a part of me is the portion that can most clearly communicate with you. [...] (Very forceful delivery.) Do you follow me? [...]

[...] Jane was tired this evening, and said, “If Seth can get anything out of me tonight he’ll be doing good.” [...]

[...] Ruburt’s readiness to do the kind of book he will now do was signaled by those episodes having to do with me in the dream book.