“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

My own experiences convince me that I am more than my normal self, the self I refer to as “me.” In getting clairvoyant information, for instance, some part of me knows what the Jane-part ordinarily does not. This portion of me communicates the knowledge to the Jane ego. [...]

“You may, if you wish, call me a subconscious production. [...] But if you do call me a subconscious extension of Ruburt’s own personality, then you must agree that the subconscious is telepathic and clairvoyant, since I have shown telepathic and clairvoyant abilities. [...]

As Seth delivered the material you have just read, I had a series of continuing experiences that were new to me. [...] The nearest I can come is to say that as this information was being given verbally to Rob, it was given to me in a different way also. [...]

Not too long ago, a young psychology professor called and asked me to speak to his class at the local college. [...]

Jane then hands me a manuscript, a novel based on the August 11th dream encounter we had, from her perspective, but it includes this present dream experience also, the Seth breakthrough and someone named Michael J. Anthony. It seems to read well as I look it over, but I realize that the time sequence is confused here, in reference to me anyhow, and the story is mixing me up. [...]

Here Seth turns to me and to some others who now appear in the room. Neither Jane or Rob see Seth or the others, although Seth is gesturing and his voice is audible, at least to me.

[...] They hand me some equipment, and there is a good deal of conversation about how difficult it is to get the suits on. When everyone is ready, they give me a mask. [...]

[...] He tells me that this warp will only exist for a short time, connecting his reality and mine, before it disconnects and that the same situation probably will not happen again. He also tells me that it is difficult to get back.

[...] Shoes bothered me though; they seemed heavy, holding me down. [...] He made me drink coffee, had me sniff ammonia.

(Jane interrupted to look at me. [...]

[...] Ruburt received that message, and in a conducive state was also in communication with me.

[...] To me the social entanglements and—ah—possible social disagreeabilities did not exist.

[...] I chose to present this private session first because in it Seth offers certain information about Jane and me that I think applies to all of our work with him, through the session and books, and to our own separate creative lives as well. Especially do I like to interpret his material tonight as meaning that Jane is “a psychic or a mystic,” for to me, at least, this means that in this physical life she’s chosen to penetrate as deeply as she can the depths of reality, or consciousness.

[...] Our black-and-white cat, Mitzi, followed me. [...] When I went outside I made sure the porch door was latched so that Mitzi couldn’t get out; she sat silhouetted against the light coming from the kitchen window as she watched me walk down the driveway. [...]

[...] To Jane and me these particular aspects of science and religion represent the way large-scale events can escape their well-meaning creators and literally take on lives of their own. [...] To me the religious correlations are obvious.

(Actually, it’s taken me a long time—a little over three years—to round out these preliminary notes for the session that follows. [...] [Mitzi didn’t watch me this time.] Much has taken place in Jane’s and my lives since 1979, as it has for everyone else, but here in the light of the corner streetlight the scene outside our place was just as magical and mysterious as ever. [...]

[...] I’d had them too, but they are much minimized by now for me, and I want her to reach that belief plateau also. [...]

[...] I asked her what it might be, but she didn’t answer enough for me to pursue the subject.

(“It’ll take me a minute to get back to it.”

(3:36 p.m. Jane asked me to read the session to her, and tell her what I thought of it. [...]

[...] Those places are different to you and me. No division to me.

[...] Nothing but good sense prevents me.

(“Would it be okay for me to work part-time for Artistic, for instance?”)

[...] I would like to suggest an experiment and I am suggesting it to you to see your reaction, like I couldn’t. I was really undecided whether to suggest it to Jane or to you, but you see like I’m kind of at an impasse because, like, there are a lot of words and a lot of concepts and philosophies bandied about, but when you make a claim you know such as that in as specific and nonconfusable terms such as that it would be very simple to demonstrate, and what I was wondering is, either now or at some time when Jane would agree to it, for instance, I brought some playing cards with me, ten cards...”)

[...] You can perceive those playing cards as clearly as I can, and if you will not believe me, you will not believe yourself. [...]

([Ron:] “Well you give me the impression though, I mean, like that’s an easy way out.”)

[...] What I am saying is, within this, within this context for me and for persons who would like to contribute to a communally verifiable and acceptable body of knowledge there are certain precise ways in which you could go about...”)

[...] This noon Paul O’Neill left me at the house Jane’s new lower teeth, so I could take them to her. [...]

(In the hall outside the emergency room I met Fred Kardon, who asked me how Jane is doing. [...]

[...] After Cathy took her temperature—98.1—Jane told me that she could now reach farther under her right leg with her left hand than she could yesterday, even. [...]

(She waited to see what she’d be doing next, then told me she would have a short session, after she finished her cigarette.)

[...] I gave directions and asked that a bill be sent to me. [...]

(We watched In Search Of from 2:30 to 3:00, and the program reminded me of a number of questions I’d thought of at various times. [...]

[...] Jane began reading yesterday’s session — it wasn’t her best effort by any means, but she managed to get through it with a little help from me. [...]

(Jane told me she was a little surprised that Maude Cardwell hadn’t answered my letter of a couple of weeks ago by now — but I said I thought things were proceeding as all of us wanted them to, really. [...]

(Margaret Bumbalo called before I left Jane and invited me to supper, but by then I was full. [...] They had a package of books for me also. John made me a scotch and soda, like I’d had there the other evening, and I began to feel its effects in no time. [...]

(The crew at the hospital did have a birthday party for me, and even though I knew what they were up to, it was still a delightful surprise, what with their obvious good will and cheers, the cards, and the food — more than we could eat, at least Jane and I. Mary, the head nurse, made the chocolate cake with chocolate icing. [...]

[...] Various people stopped in to wish me a happy birthday.

[...] But it was as though I was talking to some other part of me that was that far apart, or away from me....”

[...] Our focuses are different, yet the overall coloration of your experience does come through to me, and through this delightful personality (humorously), I can to some extent relate to it.

[...] It is meaningless to say that the books are Ruburt’s. Your ideas of “perfection” and love of detail, or if your prefer, your feeling for the significance of detail that appears exteriorized in your notes, is as present in the inner consistency of the material itself as given by me.

This brings me to a particular point—difficult to describe. [...]

(“I thought he didn’t want me to. He’s told me that often.”)

[...] He was still looking for signs that you meant the change—do you follow me?

This has its roots with the Lincoln—you follow me—and later when you did not offer to pick him up at nursery school, and told him in the same situation you would have too much pride to accept a ride.

[...] And do not let me keep you too long.

When I come here to speak I focus my energy, but not toward this room as a destination, for in your terms this room does not exist to me. [...]

Let me give you a more concrete example that each of you can use in your own way. [...]

Some evening I would like our lady over here to talk to me about predestination.

(Bernice M.: “I would like you to talk to me about it.”)

(I took Mass Events to 330 with me. [...] Georgia had told her Jeff had called me, and her version of the call was pessimistic indeed. [...]

[...] Jeff doesn’t suggest antibiotics at this time, but told me that the ulcers on Jane’s right knee and left hand won’t heal themselves, and that the new swelling on the top of her right shoulder may turn into another such area. [...]

(In interpreting those passages, I saw that Jane would have died, given her own choice, a couple of years ago, but her plan was interfered with by me and the hospital personnel. [...]

[...] News to me. [...]

[...] But there was no sense of primitiveness here; these limpid brown eyes regarded me impassively; there was no intrinsic threat. These eyes merely stared back at me from beneath heavy black brows.

[...] Jane began to question me; she told me the next morning that I described the vision to her while speaking in a sleepy monotone. [...]

[...] Before I discuss your experience, the image that you saw, let me make a few preliminary remarks.

[...] She stared at me and tapped upon the table for emphasis. [...]

[...] It is wicked and lazy and wrong of me to even think of such a thing. How will the world do without me if I am not up and about? [...]

[...] Had I been around it would have occurred to me, and it would have been a great trick, but I was not. [...]

[...] Now, you expect me to bawl you out in good terms because you have not been following the pathways within yourself. [...]

[...] It is against my principles, and do not be surprised that I called Ruburt a puritan for he is, a strange mixture of a complete primitive and a complete puritan, and if it were not for me he would be very solemn-faced, indeed. [...]

[...] Do you follow me?

Now I know what questions you have, so give me a moment.

[...] He felt angry that often it seemed you trusted me but not him. [...]

[...] Do you follow me?

[...] When she began writing Magical Approach, she even surprised me by occasionally helping me get breakfast, cooking bacon and eggs at the hot plate I’d set up for her some seven months ago on the kitchen table.⁴ Although she could work at the table while sitting down, she’d given up those simple, nurturing acts of food preparation many weeks ago; her fingers weren’t working well enough, she told me at the time; she didn’t trust herself enough to handle hot food—and I admit that when she implied a risk, the chance of an accident, I stopped encouraging her to help me with meals.

[...] Usually she just plunged right into her latest creative inspiration, and that she hadn’t done so this time was to me a clear sign of her long-range, general physical-emotional state. [...] Nor is it contradictory of me even now to note that Jane’s path is quite in accord with her basically innocent, mystical nature—for her acceptance of her nature makes possible her explorations of it in her own unique ways. When she does mourn her impaired state, it’s still never with that tired old question directed at a supposedly unjust and uncaring nature: “Why me?” She just keeps trying to grapple with her challenges.

6. My ever-present concern for Jane would certainly have turned into outright fear had I seen at once the long, untitled poem she wrote on August 26, concurrently with her work on the second chapter for Magical Approach. She didn’t put the poem into its final form, and she didn’t show it to me. [...] Perhaps it was her poetic art of expression that helped me identify so strongly with her emotions, but I suddenly felt that even I had never really understood the myriad depths of her challenges and her reactions to them. [...]

Sometimes there is / no reply at all, as if /
my voice itself / turns into mist / or is lost in /
the waves pounding / until it seems / I am indeed /
abandoned, / separated from / some forgotten self /
who has gone elsewhere / without me, / so that the gulf /
between us / is so distant / that messages sent back /
and forth / now take so long / to reach me /
that only future / generations / of myself /
would be here to / catch their meaning.

(“I don’t know whether you’re going to get it from me or Seth,” Jane said at 3:05 PM. “Earlier I felt the stuff around from Seth, but also from me too,” she said. [...]

(All of that naturally led Jane and me into talking about our own experiences in NYC after our marriage. [...]

[...] Frank Longwell told me I’d strained the ligaments helping to support the ribs, and that “they don’t like that.” [...]

(The pendulum told me I hurt the rib cage over my frustration at the visit of Tom and friends, although I wasn’t conscious of any such feelings. [...]

[...] Jane began describing to me what she’d started to pick up from Seth about my condition. [...] I was taking a “body vacation,” she told me. [...]

(When finally I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, I was more than a little disoriented—for a face confronted me that I hardly recognized. [...] I finally figured out why that mirror image confronted me with such an unreal quality: All the muscles and planes of my face were super-relaxed and smoothed out, so that the face at once looked both younger and older than its real age. [...]

[...] If you were sick of me, or wanted out—anything—I just wanted to know so you’d get better. I know you love me, but maybe you get sick of my running your life or something like that....”

[...] Let me explain.