“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] A personality that you have set up for yourself, but the fact that you are coming to classes and using the intuitional abilities opens up a slight window in that artificial personality that you have adapted, for in your mind you think—  and if you will forgive me, I will speak for you, but you may make a rebuttal. [...] But I do not care for the words are meaningless and in me there is a frankness and vitality that these others do not have.”

[...] Would you thank me, or would you instead hate me for taking from you the glorious unpredictability of the life that you know? [...]

Now if you will allow me, creativity is born from desire. [...]

Now you may ask me questions when I am done. [...]

(Willy kept bugging me as I tried to make notes for this session—sitting as he does close to me on the couch, wanting to stare at me and be petted at the same time, while I try to accomplish something. [...]

(A note: Seth’s material reminded me of his comments in the deleted 371st session for October 11, 1967. I read it last night; Seth answered my questions about what he sees when he looks at me, both as himself, and through Jane’s eyes. [...]

Some things are simply difficult for me to explain, and for you to understand. [...]

[...] Do you have any you want to put to me?

(In beginning these notes, let me mention that there are certain definite changes in Jane when she is in trance and speaking for Seth.

[...] Almost always she joins me in a snack after the session, no matter how late it is.

[...] I do not like the word “spirit,” either; and yet if your definition of that word implies the idea of a personality without a physical body, then I would have to agree that the description fits me.

[...] However, I know that my readers exist, and therefore I shall ask each of them, now, to grant me the same privilege.

[...] It consists of a note Jane wrote me late this morning, and left on the table for me to find upon coming home from work this noon. [...]

[...] Jane answered the wire this morning before writing me the note. [...] I thought that possibly the data had been displaced from Jane’s note to me, to the letter she wrote Anne. [...]

(The object for the 83rd envelope experiment was a note Jane wrote to me today; I found it on the table this noon upon returning from work, left there by Jane shortly after 11 AM. [...]

[...] And one day you will be more aware of me in, for example, projection experiments.

Ruburt does not owe me anything. [...] He does not owe me a sense of commitment. [...]

(“And don’t tell me you’re present state means that you’re getting better — like Seth does—because you’re not. Don’t have Seth tell me in the sessions that you’re working out problems and that we’ll soon see improvements, because it doesn’t happen. [...]

[...] “It just came to me, so I’m saying it as the result of a lot of similar thoughts. I don’t tell you everything, and I know you don’t tell me. [...]

[...] Nor would I feel that Ruburt has let me down, or that you had in any way. [...]

[...] It is better to meet with me less often, but on a regular schedule, than meet with me three or four times one week and none the next. A certain period of recuperation is necessary for all of us, for you two more, but it also involves me in shall I say extracurricular activities. [...]

It is difficult for me to tell you too much about Loren. [...] You both mean very well, and part of your own entities aids me in making contact with your present personalities.

Nevertheless to me the walls are transparent. [...] I realize that the changes that must occur before I can view those other planes will occur in me, not in the other planes. [...]

What wonders do you request of me tonight? [...]

I am interested mainly in education, and with Ruburt’s training by me through our present methods, the processes themselves are more clearly seen and understood. Some information comes to Ruburt fairly automatically, in that he speaks for me without having to consciously translate for me.

[...] Of course Ruburt’s own associations are used by me, with his consent, up to a certain point, to enable me to lead him to the proper subject or image.

He consents for me, he consents to let me use his associations in such a manner. [...]

[...] It is purely a psychic organization that telepathically transmits concepts from me to Ruburt. [...]

[...] Beyond this, however, as I believe I mentioned in a few classes, it is not out of the inner sense of my invisible heart but out of the depths of your own psychology that you make me into the image of a wise old man and project upon me authority images that lurk in your own mind. [...] You will not learn nearly as much from me as you will through traveling through your own inner self and searching into the reality of yourself for other realities that are also there of which your are unaware. [...]

[...] And it has taken me some time to get the idea of probable realities to your heads, and I knew that someone at sometime would ask me about reincarnational selves and so I suppose it behooves me to try to give you an answer, and it is this. [...]

I remain spontaneous and alive and do not allow myself to be deadened by your projections upon me. [...]

You project but your projections are real only to you and do not affect me. [...]

(“Before break at 11:10,” Sue wrote, “when Seth told me that he was speeding up the acceleration to see if I could perceive it, I had the definite feeling of greater speed and a visual change in Jane’s body. [...] This was again connected with motion, as though the physical frequency was also changed, and Jane’s body was rushing past me, even while staying in the same place.

[...] This quality also turned up in the session, in Seth’s funny, over-elaborate requests for me to use just the right punctuation and paragraphing.

[...] Talking and laughing, Jane and Sue waited for me to join them in the living room with my notebook. [...]

(Seth actually made an elaborately humorous request for the dash in the last sentence: Jane, her eyes very dark, leaned far forward over our coffee table and spoke to me in a soft voice.)

(By now I was sitting tensely on the edge of our couch, bending over the notebook as it lay on the coffee table before me. This is a position I seldom use — perhaps I thought it would help me really grapple with this experience. [...]

(1. As we sat waiting for the session to begin, Jane told me that the face of Joseph, in my oil painting of Ruburt and Joseph,^* smiled down at her from its spot on the living room wall. [...]

[...] Jane told me that Joseph, representing my own entity, smiled broadly at her in a way the painting actually doesn’t. The expression in the eyes changed first, the smile spreading from them down to the mouth. [...]

(The effect, which always reminded me of a mirage, began with a smallish, bright sawtooth pattern of light just to the right of my direct line of vision. [...]

Earlier, one of the boys kissed me laughingly in front of the group and I laughed, delighted. They all seemed to look up to me in some way. Earlier too, someone asked me if my skin wasn’t brown or when it looked brown and I said in Summertime.

[...] One girl asks me if Chuck stayed til nine last night and I say yes. [...]

[...] 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. [...]

[...] I did, indeed, however stand in front of each one of you and looked into your faces and you did not see me. [...]

([LD:] “Did you give me the bump on the head?”)

[...] And I told her that her statement reminded me that the same thought had come to me a couple of times previously after I’d been pretty sure that Seth was giving book work.

(“Oh, it’s me,” Jane said.

[...] She hadn’t had time to mention it to me before the session began.

[...] As I discussed the events of today with Jane, and watched them on TV, it came to me that they might signal at least a beginning of those very beneficial world events Seth had referred to for the coming year in the session for December 28, 1983. [...]

[...] At 9:25 she abruptly told me that she’d just “received” the title of a book I am to write: Through My Eyes. [...]

[...] Then, as Jane told me about all of this, she announced that Seth was coming through right away — a most unusual procedure as far as our regular sessions are concerned. [...]

[...] Neither of us have been thinking of such a project, which isn’t to say the idea of my doing a book involving Seth, at least in part, hasn’t occurred to me occasionally.

(“I’m really surprised when something like this happens to me in a session,” Jane said. [...]

[...] No one showed up with food for me, though, so I ate what Jane didn’t want off the tray — half a roast-beef sandwich, with mustard. [...]

[...] To me this situation has always been a clear demonstration that one part of herself is still in opposition to another part, and that the fearful self is still dominant though perhaps to a somewhat lesser degree these days, for we have made progress.

(“He seldom asks me to read it to him.”)

(To me:) You are in my attention also, of course, and these late sessions should also help you tone up your own body, and revive feelings of exuberance and understanding.

[...] Knowing that relieves me of spending my valuable time in adversarial positions and activities. [...]

(She showed me how she can still reach across her chest and up toward her left shoulder with her right hand and arm—a motion she began yesterday. [...]

[...] “It’s me.” [...]

[...] And that, maybe, the young man they’d taken in represented me as I’d used to be, or a perpetuation of their belief systems into later generations. [...]

[...] I’d felt so rough when I got up this morning that I’d considered seeking emergency medical aid — very rare for me. [...] And once again, I’d reinforced my faith in that simple tool, the pendulum — for me, at least.

[...] Margaret told me a couple of days ago that he’d gone back in the hospital because of uncontrolled blood sugar. This evening she told me the doctors were controlling the diabetes with insulin so Joe could accept the chemotherapy.

(A canker sore that began to erupt at supper time last evening really bothered me while I tried to sleep. [...]

(When I pulled into the driveway at home, John Bumbalo came walking out of his garage with a large piece of lemon pie for me. [...]

(Seth-Jane looked at me, pausing, with a half-comical, half at-last expression that again made me laugh.)

[...] Do you follow me?

[...] Do you follow me?

He is so confused about the reasons for his condition that he literally did not know where to turn, and so he turned to me.

[...] Once again she gave me the feeling that she—her body—was practicing control and coordination. [...]

[...] After resting a bit, she could reach across her face with her left hand and with a little help from me, succeeded in touching the lobe of her right ear with her left hand. [...]

[...] Jane took a little rest, and asked me if I had my writing stuff ready. [...]

[...] “It’s me,” Jane said. [...]

[...] Andrew didn’t discuss it with me. [...] He’s to talk to them and let me know what he finds out. [...]

[...] “Give me a cigarette. [...] Oh—leave me eight bucks, will you? [...]

[...] I may be jumping the gun—but it’s giving me a slightly different picture of you.” [...]

[...] Each person is born, however, with his or her—let me correct that—each person is born there with a private natural religion—one that rises from the springs of the individual psyche, and one that provides an easy, custom-made method of dealing with inner and outer reality. [...]