“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(She told me that after taking her nap after supper she began to get “suspicious,” especially so when she became aware of her light hands. She was going to tell me about it, but then decided she didn’t know what to say. [...]

[...] She mentioned this to me, but I had no real intimation that she was in anything but a very relaxed state. [...]

[...] “You can’t find your heroic self unless you trust the self you have,” she told me. [...]

(Pause.) To me, it is almost inconceivable that, from your position, any of you seriously consider that the existence of your exquisite consciousness can possibly be the result of a conglomeration of chemicals and elements thrown together by a universe accidentally formed, and soon to vanish. [...]

[...] He would never have acknowledged the original impulse to speak for me, and my voice would have been unheard in your world.

[...] I will help him when he asks me in his classes, as long as he does not ask too often. [...]

Now give me a moment, for the ill woman. [...]

[...] Give me a moment. [...]

[...] It began to move almost at once, and by tapping out the alphabet told me, in somewhat garbled fashion, that an O B, a family relative, was making contact. [...]

Apropos of that “certain amount,” she read me her notes on the subjects she’d felt Seth would cover tonight. [...] Then he made himself comfortable beside me on the couch, preparing for a nap.

[...] I guess I’ll start in a minute, but it’s amazing to me….”

3. Seth’s material in this paragraph reminded me at once of Jane’s own early, intuitive concept of the moment point. [...]

(Seth stared at me, so I asked: “What do you think of my dreams of the last two nights?”)

2. This paragraph of Seth’s at once reminded me of some of his most evocative earlier material on animal consciousness. [...]

[...] I like to keep such penetrating remarks before me, and wish the reader would too, for I often fear they’ll become lost from conscious view within his material. [...]

One of the poems Jane wrote for me a year ago, when I became 60 years old (in June 1979), fits in well here also. [...]

(Seth’s clever, somewhat humorous stresses in the above paragraph were intended to make certain points to me personally while he continued work on his book. Involved were discussions between Jane and me today, and some poor perceptions on my part.)

Now let me give you a brief example of a core belief. [...]

[...] Beginning at 10:45, Seth gave several pages of material for me; I’d hardly expected it. [...]

Now, he is not afraid of me. [...]

[...] You may also ask me any questions.

[...] Break time found me very discouraged. [...]

[...] She showed me a three-page typewritten account of them today. [...]

[...] She was perhaps twelve feet below me. [...] At the time I made the drawing I wondered if Jane would sense the fact even though she didn’t see me. [...]

Now I realize that Ruburt is not too happy with me for bringing up this next point. [...]

Do you have an envelope for me?

[...] She took the envelope for our 56th experiment from me without opening them. [...]

Because Ruburt has been somewhat annoyed with me and because I do not want to hurt either of you, let me say again that you averted many tragedies, and if you did not always take the easiest or the best course you have never taken the worst course, and you have never acted through malice. Now I hope Ruburt will stop yapping like an angry cur and let me continue.

[...] She first noticed this phenomena two sessions ago but for some reason never mentioned it to me. [...]

[...] She also admitted that she had been somewhat upset with Seth because of what he had told me the last two sessions; this I had not known. [...]

[...] If you will forgive me, my dear Joseph, you are full of air. [...]

If you listened to your own conversations now and then with—if you will forgive me—an objective ear, you could both often cut some of your troubles short, or nip them in the bud. (To me:) You were speaking to your guest John with some evidence of dissatisfaction in your voice, some self-accusation, some irritation, wondering why as a young man you did not make greater breakthroughs in your art. [...]

[...] However, at various times the pendulum has given me all kinds of other reasons for my physical ills: taxes, money, Jane’s symptoms, success and failure—the works, one might say. [...]

[...] As I’ve told Jane several times lately, the renewing rain reminded me once again of the wonders of nature, and I thought once again of living a natural life outdoors in the environment of woods and elements, summer and winter. [...]

(I smiled at Seth as he stared at me, then shook my head. [...]

(To me:)You are stubborn. [...] To some extent, it is quite valid to say—though you may not agree with me—that you might as well have had all that work to do now as well.

(A note for the record: I tried to use the pendulum to help me fathom the reasons for my illness—but with very little success. [...] It didn’t occur to me that I needed a break.)

While they were obviously noticeable, they were an unimportant issue in the visit—an important footnote in Andrija’s experience—but not a part of the main page or message, if you understand me.

[...] Now before we begin, let me say a few things to you. [...]

(Jane [Ruburt] said something to me on the tape about having a strong feeling of resistance on my part—as though in spite of all I said about wanting to have orgasm, I really didn’t want to—that it was a strong protective measure, as though my survival in one way depends on it.

[...] First of all, if you will forgive me, you would have no difficulty at all having orgasm with a man to whom you were deeply attracted if he were not your husband, and if you could get over the moral barriers that might prevent it—if you could convince yourself that it was all right.

[...] What point, if you will forgive me, is reached when you can say: “Yes, now I’m having an orgasm, and now I am not, and the sensation begins and ends.” [...]

[...] The question concerning the broken dishes rather amused me personally. [...]

I will now, ordinarily, pick up any dangerous warning signals concerning your health or Ruburt’s, but it is still a good idea to query me now and then directly.

[...] Subconsciously your reasoning went like this: “If I were any shape of a man, the hand would bring me what I wanted.” [...]

I will leave you to tell me when you need a break, or when you want the session terminated.

[...] You follow me here.

Now give me a moment. [...]

[...] Do you follow me here?

[...] You follow me.

[...] Ruburt is not me. Ruburt is me. I am myself … You are death and you are life … Ruburt can do many things that surprise me — that I did not do in my past, for remember that fresh creativity emerges from the past also, as in [Ruburt’s novel] Oversoul Seven. [...]

[...] Just before Seth came through Jane said she had information on them — but that she didn’t have time to relay it to me. [...]

[...] He surprises me, and his reactions alter my past. [...]

(As we lay in bed after last Monday’s session, Jane told me: “I’ve got it — from Seth, I think: A really complete astrological chart would have to include not only the time of your birth, but that of your death.” [...]

Stop me when you want to.

[...] “God, I get impatient!” she exclaimed “But in physical reality I can get only one of them at a time, and you can write just one sentence at a time.⁷ Oh, forget it, Seth,” she added, half laughing, for that “energy personality essence” was ready with comments on what she’d just told me. [...]

[...] (This kind of thinking usually reminds me of a certain statement Seth made half a dozen years ago; see Note 7 for Session 727: “Creatures without the compartment of the ego can easily follow their own identity beyond any change of form.”)

They exist without me, of course, and yet I am able to add additional energy, and to arouse the body’s impetus. [...]

[...] “It’s me,” Jane said. [...]

[...] I turned this light off then and turned one on in the kitchen; this cast an indirect light into the living room, enough for me to see to write.

(See the 68th session for the change in Jane’s features, witnessed by Bill and me. [...]

(Here’s Seth to me in that January session:) You, for example, could have excelled at certain sports, where Ruburt had no such inclinations. [...]

[...] You must realize it is futile to say, “Why does understanding take so much time?” or, “Why have we been so opaque?” or, in your case, “Why has it taken me so long to be a good painter?”

[...] She was upset of course, and so was I. I went to bed very unhappy with our situation—and I suppose that that feeling helped lead me to the group of statements below the next morning, and this session.

[...] The last time I’d suggested that she consider getting medical help had been at Christmas time, when I asked her to think it over and let me know. [...]

[...] It is sometimes difficult for me to translate what I know about the situation into terms that you can accept jointly, because of the press of those beliefs and the accompanying habitual behavior and conditioning. [...]

[...] When he stared at me, I repeated the question rather insistently.