“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

As you all know, you can become as conscious sleeping, and you do, as you are in the normal state, or now when you listen to me. [...]

[...] Ruburt told us last week to become aware in the dream state at the Alpha III level, and I did, and I had my tape recorder on next to me, and I gave myself the suggestion that whenever I got something, I would turn it on...”)

([Gert:] “Will it start talking back to me? [...]

([Gert:] “When I do this mirror trance, I’m getting an image on the wall behind me of my ‘Golden Boy.’ Is that a projection of my inner self?”)

[...] I said that if she preferred no notes, that was all right with me too.

[...] Jane finally admitted earlier today that she’s had only seven sessions since then because she didn’t want to make too much extra work for me while I’m busy with the complicated notes for that book. [...]

[...] “You took me by surprise,” she said at 9:10, as we sat for the session. [...]

(“You’ll have to be lenient with me. [...]

He is another aspect of me while being himself. [...] (Pause; well over one minute long.) Your time is required… These communications change me as they change you, for they are action on both of our parts. [...]

(Pause.) The knowledge that we have, myself and others like me, would be incomprehensible to you in its pure form.

[...] (Long pause.) To me, a thought is as real as a day to you. [...]

[...] This comes as no surprise to me. [...]

[...] Jane told me about Toni, a large woman who often takes care of her at night, and whom I’ve never met. [...] This reminded me that although I’m with my wife there are still portions of Jane’s life I’m quite unfamiliar with—people she knows whom I never see. [...]

[...] Another bout of strong motion—head and torso sideways, left foot up in the air—crying out to me. [...]

(Then she told me about a new nurse who fed her breakfast and made her mad by talking about Jane’s going to “another facility.” [...]

(Then at 4:40 Jane told me to get the pad out. [...]

(Now Jane told me that when she was on her left side earlier today she’d “had the inclination to try to straighten out my body some so I wasn’t at such an angle.” This is the first time she’s mentioned such feelings to me, and stands for another sign of improvement, I told her. [...]

[...] After lunch she told me that Toni, whom I’d mentioned last session, had discovered a “bladder stone” in her Foley when she emptied it in the middle of the night. [...]

[...] Then she told me to get out my pad and pen. [...]

[...] It looked like a pimple to me. [...]

[...] Also involved is, as Ruburt correctly picked up from me, a group of accomplishments that we will call the psychological arts. [...]

(To me:) I want you to specifically understand that there is and can be no conflict, for example, between your writing and painting, for in the most basic of ways they represent different methods of exploring the meaning and the source of creativity itself. [...]

[...] (To me again:) Your own writing, of course, is art. [...]

Explore, for example, your own feelings toward me; whether or not they have changed through the years. [...]

[...] I told her that Orlene Gladston had called me from California this morning, to wish us a Merry Christmas and ask about Jane’s condition, and that my brother Loren, who at 63 is a year younger than I am, had called yesterday for the same reason. [...]

[...] She could almost hold the papers up like anyone would, even though her arms and hands aren’t clear yet; but, she told me, they have changed enough so that she could now do this. [...]

[...] It makes me feel all hot and itchy....” [...]

[...] Now Christine was bothering me a little.)

([Bette to Joel:] “Don’t fight with me either. [...]

[...] Would you feel the same kind of forgiving spirit for him and acceptance for him that you seem to for me now? [...]

[...] Somehow I always managed to get the Indian into the argument so evidently I have forgiven all that they did to me until l saw Joel, and then it all came back.”

[...] I have a feeling that I was only about 2 years old or other and that they got the kids last, or at least me, and I have the feeling that the house was pretty much on fire. [...]

[...] Nevertheless, that which is obvious to me is not obvious, often, to you, and it is not too difficult for me to see why at times you appear to be lacking in faith when such predictions are made.

(Seth’s comment above on switching habits is of interest to me personally. It reminds me that although I quit smoking in 1959, I tried for the better part of two years, first, to cut down. [...]

(Last Thursday, April 15, as we were driving about Elmira on errands, Jane mentioned to me that she missed trying psychological time. [...]

Ruburt may indeed resume psychological time experiments, however, and he did understand me correctly. [...]

Rob asked for a break, but then he urged me to end the session before my voice gave out. I knew that he was concerned about me, but also tremendously interested in the material Seth had been giving. [...]

[...] Rob told me about the heavy masculine voice with its astonishing volume, and all around me I felt this high energy and great humor as if an invisible Seth were sitting there, smiling, ready to start a friendly chat.

[...] To me your time can be manipulated; it is one of the several vehicles by which I can enter your awareness. [...]

[...] After all, do you blame me? [...]

(Jane had called me last night, saying that the issue of transferal hadn’t been settled after all, in spite of what Georgia had told us yesterday afternoon. [...]

(Now she told me the head nurse, Mary, had told Jane the decision would be made later this afternoon about whether people would be moved. [...]

(I’ll note here that on tomorrow’s menu I ordered a Thanksgiving Day meal for me also, so that we can eat together. [...]

[...] When I think of my wife, I want to educate myself to think of her being here home with me—not how she got there. [...]

[...] “It bothers me that here we’ve gone back to the sessions,” I said, “but we can’t get at all that great material I know is there....” She assured me that she would make an effort to have the session tonight—at least something. [...]

(Sometimes I wonder if I’m supposed to work on Dreams these days at all—whether it may not be a project whose time is not yet for either Jane or me. [...]

(Finally she called me at about 8:55. [...]

[...] Again, the names and dates have little meaning to me now. [...]

(Long pause at 10:20.) A cousin or brother was important to me. [...]

[...] They were considered heretics, and several times petitions were given to me against them. [...]

My own “previous” personalities are not dissolved into me any more than your “past” personalities. [...]

[...] I added that the whole bit put me on the spot, and always had, because I was never sure whether to insist that she have the sessions, or forget them. [...] It even appears to me right now, at least, that that more damaging avoidance of sessions has had a very negative impact.

[...] Hidden within the sessions there is the splendid vitality of Father Trenton, his (Jane’s) mother, his neighbors and teachers — but beyond that the sessions connect and unite the annals of existence as he has experienced them, so that in speaking with my voice, and for me (quavering), he expresses the blessed vitality and acknowledgments of the universe, as even through the sessions the sweet universe acknowledges his own presence and being. [...]

[...] Let me know what you want to do.”

(At noon today Jane told me she thought Seth would give us a short session, because of the extraordinary one of Monday, 7/6. This was to help me get caught up on all the typing.

[...] The idea behind it came from me, and was received by Mark; and then Mark constructed the apparition, which did in fact physically exist.

The question confuses me. [...]

If you wish, but only if you wish, you may ask a few questions of me; and otherwise I will say good evening.

(Jane stared at me from her perch on the couch.

(This may be, but the bank loan offered Jane and me was quite a bit more expensive, and we did not feel we wanted to take on the added expense. [...]

[...] I will certainly not expect you at this point to believe me literally–

(Jane had left the couch, and now she rapped on the table before me for emphasis.)

(I have the simple, profound faith that anything I desire in this life can come to me from Framework 2. There are no impediments in Framework 2. Framework 2 can creatively produce everything I desire to have in Framework 1—my excellent health, painting, and writing, my excellent relationship with Jane, Jane’s own spontaneous and glowing physical flexibility and creativity, the greater and greater sales of all of her books. I knew that all of these positive goals are worked out in Framework 2, regardless of their seeming complexity, and that they can then show themselves in Framework 1. I have the simple, profound faith that everything I desire in life can come to me from the miraculous workings of Framework 2. I do not need to be concerned with details of any kind, knowing that Framework 2 possesses the infinite creative capacity to handle and produce everything I can possibly ask of it. [...]

[...] Seth then told me I would live to be 87. This is the first time he has given me any specific age, although in several previous sessions, among them the 149th and the 217th, he has mentioned my living to an old age. [...]

[...] According to Seth this is the last physical life for Jane and me. [...]

(Seth also agreed with me concerning my memory of earlier sessions in which he stated she would live to old age. [...]

[...] Without naming names, he told me that the one of us dying first would succeed in communicating with the surviving partner in such a way that the results would give conclusive proof “to the masses.”

[...] After I’d finished the session, especially the last portion and my notes about my own reactions, which upset Jane, she told me that yesterday she’d actually been very blue the last hour I was there. She’d also been very afraid that the coughing up of mucous meant she was getting pneumonia — something she hadn’t told me. [...]

[...] A nurse called for her this morning, though — seems Jane was out of cigarette lighters, and wanted me to bring some to 330. [...]

[...] I also found a young man in the bar who knew the two who had taken the car, but he was afraid to tell me who they were. [...]

(“It’s me,” Jane said.

[...] The object came into being when Doug, who is 14 years old, was showing me how he writes left-handed. [...]

[...] Don left a sealed envelope, prepared to my instructions, with me, but I did not plan to use it for this evening’s experiment. [...]

[...] Now she thrust an arm straight out toward me.)

Do you have an envelope for me, Joseph?