“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] After a while she began to talk to me, slowly, yet gave every sign of continuing the session on her own, and in the highly emotional manner of the 435th session of September 11, 1968. This I wanted to prevent; even while she told me that Seth protected her, she began to whimper, eyes closed, and talk about my father.

[...] I know more than you know, and I realize that we will get through the material, that I have in mind, so it does not bother me when I hold informal sessions, sessions in which material is not always stressed. [...]

[...] Although your reactions at times may be different, and although you may not agree with me, still Ruburt will rarely be unrealistic in understanding or in utilizing methods that are highly practical, though neither of you may understand them as such.

(Smile.) Some evening we must use your recorder so that you do not need to write so furiously, and let me talk to you. [...]

(I’ve received various answers from the pendulum on the background causes for my upset; not really contradictory, by and large, but signifying to me that in spite of my concern I hadn’t been willing to buckle down and really work at uncovering the beliefs causing the unrest. [...]

(I’ll begin the private material with a paragraph that’s not strictly private, in order to set the scene—although actually Seth says little enough to me.

[...] I want to pay the taxes by Friday to get free of them, and to see if this act helps set me free. [...]

5. My side bothers me because I’m not working on Mass Reality. [...]

[...] 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, Carl Watkins woke me to express concern because of the length of the session tonight—at perhaps 1 AM or later. [...]

(Jane called back to me that she was alright during a break, and this & my waking up served to end the session. [...]

[...] She lay quietly on the couch, eyes closed, but in a few minutes told me she was awake. She also told me she had been visited by a most strange sensation; and from her description of it I felt sure it must be an exploration of the inner senses, similar to the one I experience occasionally, which Seth has called the feeling of sound. [...]

(Jane told me that upon slowly coming awake from her nap, and while she was listening to me move about the living room setting up the desk and my pad, etc., for the session, she had the most peculiar feeling of “growing larger.” [...]

[...] I see that you have it out on the desk for me, as if it was an apple for the teacher. [...]

[...] They work that way for me, for example, yet I must attempt to list them separately for you.

(I took care that Jane did not see me preparing the envelopes this evening, although she was well aware a test might take place. We had discussed the matter earlier in the day but she had not given me an unequivocal yes or no answer, as to whether we should make such tests an everyday procedure during sessions. [...]

He will actually be building up confidence in me, and therefore he will allow me to come through when it is required that I do so in any investigations. [...]

[...] This time the double envelopes contained a black and white photo I took of Jane at York Beach, ME, a little over a year ago this month. [...]

I see you have no tests for me this evening. [...]

[...] It’s difficult to describe what she told me, and would take many words and much time. [...]

[...] I laughed, telling her her behavior reminded me of our cats this morning, when it was so cold: Both Billy and Mitzi had barely stepped out onto the picnic table from the kitchen window, when they reversed themselves and hopped right back into the house. [...]

[...] “It scares me when I do that. [...]

[...] “It makes me mad. [...]

(Jane didn’t call last night to give me a progress report on the new motions she was enjoying when I left yesterday. [...]

Joe has recovered from a serious heart condition, of course — and if you will excuse me, that was the heart of the matter. [...]

[...] I just have to use it, instead of letting it — life — use me …”

[...] How cruel we could be to ourselves, I thought, and this reminded me of my old questions about why the body consciousness itself didn’t just rebel at times and refuse to let itself be so beaten down by erroneous beliefs. [...]

(Ten sessions after this one, Seth told Jane and me that we had been Speakers also, although he said nothing about dates or countries, or whether Jane, Ron, or I might be renewing acquaintances made in other, perhaps very ancient times. It seems to me that in this life at least, Ron and I encountered each other in quite a strange way: almost of an age, we grew up in the same small town near Elmira many years ago; we knew of each other’s family — and yet we didn’t meet until 1970….

[...] “Wow,” she said, “I feel that energy so strongly now, going through me, carrying me along….”

[...] The term “Speaker,” as Seth uses it, was as unknown to Jane and me then as it was to Ron and his family.)

[...] You must give me time. [...]

(“Walter wants to be ‘a great psychic teacher’ like me or Cayce,” Jane said as we waited for Seth to come through. [...] He energized me and I forgot my troubles....” [...]

[...] I was also still thinking about her reaction to the sessions themselves: the idea that she could feel inferior to Seth and/or the material was, as I noted, a pretty new one for me, and somewhat surprising. [...] I noted there that I didn’t recall her telling me about such feelings.

(Finally she called me for the session at 9:40 PM. [...]

[...] His relationship with me, and mine with him, is bound to be interpreted in multitudinous ways by our readership, the public and so forth. [...]

(Before the session I had asked Jane if Seth could give me some more data on the art and gallery material begun in the last session. [...] She said that the impetus would be strong to help me on these subjects. [...]

[...] Do you follow me? [...]

[...] She said traffic noise had bothered her at the session’s start, until Seth had me turn on the cooler. [...]

(Then Jane surprised me by saying that Fox was not the name she had spoken, re Jerry A. She was very definite—that Fox wasn’t correct, saying I had misunderstood her. [...]

(Somehow, Doc Kiley grabbed me, spun me around in the air and hugged me. [...]

I do not consider these small helpful hints of future events to be the sort of demonstration which in certain circumstances could annoy me. [...]

It is difficult, rather, for me to leave you so early, since I enjoy our sessions. [...]

[...] When I was small he gave me presents. [...]

[...] In spite of the very reasonable tone of the material in it, to me it seemed to fly in the face of all of the accumulated fears that had been bugging me, and Jane also, I thought. As soon as Seth mentioned her feelings of inferiority at the beginning of the session, it was all downhill for me; I thought we’d done a reasonable job on encountering those with our pendulum work, but it seemed that they were still as present and active as ever. [...]

(A few days ago I wrote out a “new manifesto” of beliefs for Jane and me, to replace the suggestions she’s been using in the morning after breakfast. [...]

[...] I have told you that the changes are first mental, and therefore let me briefly give the reasons for Ruburt’s ease and sense of freedom the evening that your neighbors were with you on the porch—you know what I am referring to.

[...] It’s already helped me in my painting. [...]

(One section of the session was missed by me entirely, since I had left the house thinking the session over. [...]

My friend here, Ruburt, is my mouth, and speaks for me. [...]

[...] (Humorously:) Far be it from me to frighten a young girl (to Eve), although the girl is not so young and the girl has not always been a girl.

[...] Ruburt has spoken to me: I am aware of social environments.

[Seth II:] Let the human characteristics by which you know me, fade into their proper perspective. [...] Yet to me, all that is past. I am not only what he will one day become in your terms I am far more—and in me your Seth, while remaining a developing identity on his own, is a distant memory in my consciousness. [...]

When your precious psychologists walk out of their bodies and tell me what is in California, then I will listen to their theories of personality and when your psychologists put on the type of personality performance that I can put on—then I will listen to them when they tell me about the ego and subconscious. [...]

[...] Do you follow me? [...]

[...] Do not tell me that my theory of personality is only another word for the ego or for your psychologists’ theories. [...]

[...] I recall that at the time Jane had seen them first, and pointed them out to me. [...] The woman’s face especially had reminded me of Jane, though she had indeed been fatter. [...]

(Rob surprised me by asking me to dance, insisting even, though the dance number was a twist, and we didn’t know it. [...]

Please do not comment, because Jane is having enough troubles with me tonight as it is. [...]

(“Seth, why did I make Jane get up and do the twist with me in that dancing establishment at York Beach?”)

[...] Later a woman puts me in charge of cleaning up the silverware—perhaps used for refreshments at the meeting. [...]

[...] or just abilities in general, and being so careful of them turned me into their servants.... [...]

[...] The earlier religious scene suggests that I was appalled to find my abilities leading me anywhere within the realm of religious ideas at all to start with. [...]

I explained a few more details to the officer today, and he told me to give them a call if by any chance Fred shows up again. Like me, he didn’t believe that Fred flew here from Denver—that is, talking a stewardess into giving him free transportation all that way—yet Fred got here somehow, and I explained that the manuscript of Fred’s that I’ve looked over contains descriptions of his landing in Pittsburgh, PA, and working his way east through a series of stops at restaurants, in which he’d add to his manuscript each time. [...]

As with Jane and me, Fred had offered no signs of violence toward the police or anyone else that they knew of. [...]

[...] I asked if he could say a few words; she told me to get paper and pencil.)

[...] When we reached Troy, Pennsylvania, yesterday afternoon, some twenty-four miles south of Elmira, Jane told me she felt revitalized suddenly.)

You will be hearing from me for some time. [...]

(Yesterday morning, then, while painting, the thought came to me clearly: Jane does the Seth books just to please me. I knew at the time that this was likely to be an oversimplification, yet I also knew at once that it contained the key to the puzzle; this rather simple idea helped me assemble all of the information already described in these notes, half of it in ways I cannot consciously describe. [...]

(Putting off Dreams, it seemed to me, was a necessity at the moment because I now believed that the long interlude in her dictation was, again, a clear sign of resistance to the project on Jane’s part. [...] It seemed to me now that a clear course of hanging back had been displayed by Jane all though our psychic endeavors, and that it could be easily charted if we took the time to do so. I said that she would have probably used her psychic gifts in some fashion in her writing, but that the Seth books might very well have not come into existence except for my own interest—hence my mental insight this morning that Jane did the Seth books to please me. [...]

[...] She reminded me also that even the title of Mass Events, when Seth had given it, had alarmed her, or at least aroused some sort of defensive mechanism in her—something I’d forgotten. [...] She hadn’t really been in favor of such endeavors, then, even when she discussed them with me.

[...] Seth’s statement stopped me in what seemed to be a new way personally—for I don’t think I’ve considered that Jane might even see Seth’s own material as in competition—or as even a threat, although I don’t care for that word —to her. [...] I don’t recall her telling me about them, though.)

[...] For some reason they didn’t hear or see me, or if they did they didn’t care much. [...] The first several deer, crossing the street perhaps fifty feet ahead of me, surprised me so that I stopped in my tracks, unbelieving, seeking to understand what I was seeing. [...]

[...] He told Jane it hadn’t occurred to him to ask me to get it for him; instead he’d called another friend. So did Leonard pick up my own fears about his situation, and avoid calling me because of them?

[...] “It never occurred to me,” I said, to actually call Leonard and check up on him.”