“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] Said she’d originally thought of it as a song, but hadn’t mentioned that to me before.)

[...] (I can write in Sumari, but Jane has to translate it for me — and I’m always surprised at the results.) My wife has a powerful singing voice. [...]

^* In 1965, in response to my letter, an older and very respected parapsychologist — “Dr. Instream,” Jane called him — invited Jane and me to attend the hypnosis symposium he was to conduct at a New York State college. [...]

(4:38 p.m. Jane said both her hands are still improving, and they seemed so to me as I massaged them with Oil of Olay after I’d turned her on her left side. She ate well after I’d had a nap, as usual, and read the prayer with me at 7:05. [...]

(Jane called me last night with Carla’s help. [...]

[...] His mental exercises involving the inner “darning” (which Jane had told me about earlier this afternoon) of the sores with new tissue works well. [...]

[...] He did not want me involved in them in the past, and this automatically made it highly improbable that he would perceive me.

(To me.) You have helped two people who were in school with you. [...] (Pointing at me.) You have helped Dave Lake on an astral level, during a recent illness of his. [...]

(“Can you give me a clue as to the other person I helped, who was in school with me?”)

[...] You had better remind me to explain that statement, and add it to your questions.

(My dentist wasn’t there even though I had an appointment for today that had been given me three or four months ago. [...]

[...] Suzanne helped me hoist her up on the bed. [...]

[...] [Though how they can know is beyond me.]

(During break Jane told me that she had felt a sideways thrust of energy going out of her; she thought this probably an attempt at projection to Louisiana while in trance. She had also been aware of the same feeling as she sat quietly just before the session, she now told me; both attempts had been abortive however.

[...] In such cases, you see, he must trust himself entirely to me, and since he distrusts himself and me to some varying degree, then there is some conflict. [...]

[...] Jane now found this somewhat distracting, and gestured to me to remove the cat. [...]

[...] For your private information, middle or late March… I do not know whether this is the woman’s death (open eyes, pointing at me), but it is an event involving death of a woman (gestures) close to the wife, you see?

[...] This had made me change my position while writing in order to compensate—futilely, I might note. [...]

[...] My stomach had begun bothering me quite a bit a few days ago. [...]

(“Well, taxes come up this week,” Jane told me, “and every time they do your stomach starts up. [...]

[...] It told me once that this time taxes weren’t involved. [...]

You would do much better if your attitude followed thusly: I am in such a position that my seriousness has given me no benefits. My imagination has brought me fear. [...] All my hard work has brought me nowhere, and therefore I shall change my tactics and I shall play. [...]

[...] You could ask me questions about your personal life and I would not require that you think for yourself. [...]

[...] And yet, regardless of that fact, each of you knows me well—you feel this vitality. [...]

[...] And it ill behooves me to force upon her this which she does not enjoy. [...]

(Jane told me that she’d had her catheter changed at 11:30 this morning, and had just finished having her dressings done before I arrived. [...]

(On my way to 330 Georgia called me in to her room and said she’s to have some sort of back surgery next Monday or Tuesday. [...]

“Oh, pray take me

[...] She’d already told me she thought Seth would comment on the movie.)

(“But Seth was right,” she told me. [...]

(She had tried to call me twice last night, but her attempts had been made while I was talking to Helen Park and Sue Watkins, evidently. [...]

[...] The mail is threatening to get the best of me again.

[...] “I’d say my eyes are better than the best they’ve been so far, Bob,” she said — which really surprised me. [...]

Now I am going to ask you once again to close your eyes to follow me to the best of your ability. You do not have to follow me to the best of your ability. You do not have to follow me and visitors here this evening do not have to feel as if they must follow me. Allow yourselves the freedom not to follow me if you do not feel like it. Others of you allow yourself the freedom to follow me. [...]

[...] I want to get out of the kitchen—it’s too late; I feel humiliated, having someone see me standing so poorly. Rob sticks his head in doorway, says money is “there”; he’s busy, difficult for me to turn to see where “There” is; he has to say “on cabinet.” Kid tries door; it’s locked; I don’t think I can unlock it and get out of his way quickly enough without asking him to wait for me to move, feel humiliated again, know Rob is busy with the book and why can’t I handle it? [...]

[...] I’ll tell myself the answer will come to me...

[...] Now these are things that you will learn, and I am not scolding you, do not look at me like that, or you will make me cry, but it is the only time I have to get a hold of you, and so I want you to understand what I am saying. [...]

[...] I admit that the circumstances, the voice, may make me sound severe. [...]

(To Edgar) Now, and I say this with utmost kindness and good nature, you can tell Ruburt that you have no feelings, and you can tell the class that you have no feelings, and you can tell others that you do not care what is said or done to you, but do not tell me. [...]

[...] I am sorry you are not moving tables for me this evening. [...]

(“Maybe if you’ll let me mutter on,” Jane said, with nearly a laugh. “I even have these dreams that you can wish me out into the car and take me down to those hills in Pennsylvania.... [...]

(Appearances can be deceiving, though: After lunch Jane told me that her feelings of panic had returned [see the session for November 7, for instance]. [...]

(I repeated that she should have told me when the feelings began—not three hours later. [...]

(1. “Sometimes,” she said to me recently, and with no hint of smugness, “when I talk to a group of people — say on a Friday night, when psychic stuff may or may not be involved — I get the weird feeling that I’m operating on nine or ten different levels at once: The meanings and understandings that are being exchanged, at least between me and the other individuals in the room, are all so different. [...]

[...] Jane told me that at times she felt a distinct yearning for understanding by the others involved in the affair; yet, because of her participation in it, her confidence in knowing what she can do was strengthened significantly. [...]

[...] He fears for the gullibility of people, and is rightly appalled at their superstitions — as you are, Joseph (as Seth calls me). [...]

[...] She’s certainly given me the complete freedom to be myself, and I’ve floundered often. [...] That doesn’t stop me from desperately wanting to help her. [...] She’s helped me often. Jane even agrees with me that she’s a very stubborn lady—albeit an extremely creative one—who’s determined to go her own way.

I admit that for some mysterious reason of my own I let Bill Baker, as I’ll call that youngish individual, fool me when he knocked on our back-porch door yesterday afternoon. He was very well dressed and very well spoken, and I didn’t pay enough attention to the doubts I sensed when he told me about hearing voices in his head, and asked if Jane did the same thing with Seth. [...] She almost called me, Jane said later, when she realized that Bill Baker is a disturbed⁹ person. [...]

[...] The idea behind this is: “If you cannot find me, then I cannot be held accountable for my actions—actions which are bound in one way or another to betray me.”

[...] It took me days. [...] To suit me, I’ve told Jane more than once, the index would have to be practically as long as our lifework itself. [...]

(A note: After the session Jane told me that she knew what Seth was going to tell me when I had finished the painting under discussion. I asked Jane just how she knew this; was Seth telling me one thing, and Jane another; did Jane divine the information from Seth as he spoke through her, or what? [...] But as Seth told me about the painting Jane knew what he was to tell me.)

[...] One at least will be specifically written by me for that purpose.

Now give me a moment. [...]

You may ask me directly, if you wish—

[...] She agreed to have me turn her over on her left side a bit earlier because I was tired. [...] She’s tried it several times with me, but hasn’t succeeded yet. [...]

(Jane told me that Fred Kardon was in to see her this morning. [...]

[...] But the incident made me think that it’s a pity nursing students aren’t taught valid facts of life, instead of the medical dogmas that often prolong illness. [...]

[...] Pete told me that he’d called Mary Krebs back, or that she had called him, a second time on that first day last week—Friday. [...]

[...] Both were quite surprised to hear from me, and I felt good talking to them and saying thanks.

[...] He told me to keep in touch if anything went wrong. [...]

(Jane was actually a little chilly at times, and asked me to turn up the heat, which was working fine. [...]

[...] A nurse came in to tell us the staff is having its Valentine’s Day party next Tuesday noon, and for me not to eat lunch at the house.

(I thought I heard Teresa [help me, help me], sounding as though through closed doors. [...]

[...] She said she had, and gave me the infomation I needed to complete the note tomorrow morning. [...]

[...] A girl from Andrew Fife’s office called to tell me that Andrew had called one of the supervisors at Syracuse—Blue Cross—about our major medical claim. [...]

(Then she said that off and on for a couple of hours last night she got very blue—awful, she said —crying and calling for me. [...]

[...] If it makes Ruburt nervous to have his picture taken, it does not bother me, and I welcome you (Rich and Diane) to our session. [...] It seems to me that by now he could learn to trust his impulses. [...]

—You can take pictures of me for my book cover—and I will put in a word for you... Just do not tell me to look at the birdie. [...]

[...] Rich also brought with him contact proofs of photos he took of Jane and me yesterday afternoon.

[...] In another past life, Seth said he had been a member of a religion that no longer existed in our terms; that he would tell Jane and me about it some time, and that we would find it very interesting.