“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Jane did pick up some material on her own—“but I don’t think you want to hear it,” she told me. [...]

[...] A fire engine had passed a couple of blocks away from our house at about 9:30; only now did Jane remember to tell me she’d heard it. [...]

[...] Ruburt could not receive the information from me, it could not be translated nor interpreted while she was focused intensely in the physical environment. [...]

Whenever you want a less formal session, or have questions, then let me know.

[...] I had a snack with her while she ate breakfast, and tearfully she said she couldn’t blame me if I felt I could only stand so much, and wanted to go my own way. [...]

[...] Interesting, for I think Jim phrased some of his quotes somewhat differently to Jane than he had to me earlier this week —although I think the gist of the remarks is pretty much the same. [...]

(Jane also tried walking with the table with Frank’s help, as she had with me the day before, but once again couldn’t quite get up on her feet. [...]

(“Come out at a quarter to eight,” Jane told me at 7:15, “and we’ll have a session.” [...]

[...] Do remind me, and let it go for now. [...]

[...] She asked me to wait before reading it to her, “while I get myself together.”

(Right after this exchange ended tonight at 9:03, Jane told me that she was going to dictate additional material “herself.” She asked me to write it down:

[...] “Seth’s book reminds me of an old-fashioned diary,” I remarked, “but with a new twist — that of probabilities.” [...]

[...] The dream has stayed very vividly with me ever since I had it. [...]

I am saying if you ask me—and you have not—that your dream contained some important insights into your own questions, and that you might have interpreted it yourself.

One small note that occurred to me: for whatever reasons—I will not discuss them now—Ruburt did not feel particularly that you needed or wanted his physical help in matters that you could perform more efficiently by yourself. [...]

[...] Someone told me? [...] Perhaps someone else was showing me all this; not sure though.”

Now, do you have an envelope for me?

[...] Without opening her eyes she took the envelope for our 53rd experiment from me, then pressed it to her forehead with both hands. [...]

[...] It is the first draft, and was thrown away by Jane and saved by me, unknown to her. [...]

[...] One led to a strong serum reaction that incapacitated me for two weeks; the other resulted in a partial paralysis lasting several days. I accepted the vaccines because I yielded (if somewhat reluctantly) to conventional parental and medical pressures, as well as my own beliefs of the time: I was “supposed” to take the inoculations; they would be “good” for me. [...]

[...] Seth calls Jane “Ruburt” and me “Joseph.” [...]

[...] [Actually, I think that what I’ve learned has saved me from bitterness and disillusionment in later life. [...]

(I also think that Seth himself could have some pretty funny things to say here to Jane and me — some day I’ll ask him — words with which he’d humorously caution us not to take the whole affair too seriously, to leave room in our daily lives for the simple, uninhibited joy of creative expression and living even while we study his unending outpouring of material. [...]

[...] There were some small differences in a few results between the Gallaghers’ comments October 28, and in their returned written copy, and this is noted upon by me when it occurs. [...]

Let me live while I wonder and wander

[...] Bear with me, for some new background material is necessary here. [...]

Do you have an envelope for me?

[...] Jane paused at 10:12, then took the envelope for our 59th experiment from me without opening her eyes. [...]

[...] She evidently heard me without trouble.

[...] Sonja has always been attached to a portrait I had painted before Jane and I were married, and at various times had urged me to sell it to her. Yesterday she asked me again to sell her the painting, and I did even though it had sentimental value for Jane and I.

[...] This appears to be a low point for me.

It amuses me, as a last thought, that your word “pit”, in sound, is like a core, and suggesting depth for considering inwardness as the pit. [...]

[...] My sensation swept over me several times. [...]

[...] Do you follow me here?

[...] He began in our work to become more aware of these feelings, and extremely frightened at expressing any of them, for many of the reasons given by me in the past.

[...] You (to me) at your job are helped in that manner. [...]

You do not see yourselves as human beings in a quite human environment, but against some perfect yardstick, and this applies for you (to me) also. [...]

[...] A remarkable insight—to me; and that’s what matters.

You (to me) have been of great help lately. [...]

[...] She’s uncomfortable on her back, especially in her right foot, which is still moving, more than yesterday, and is still painful for me to touch on the instep. [...]

(“You know what all this reminds me of?” I asked. [...]

[...] Perhaps she half believed me. [...]

[...] However, her statement prompted me to tell her that a few days before the insurance company had denied our claim for major medical benefits because they hadn’t received the hospital records, I’d waked up early one morning and lay there worrying about the possibility of a denial for perhaps an hour. [...]

[...] In the dream this knowledge at once brought me some peace of mind, and I fell into a deep sleep. [...]

[...] But then she asked me to get my paper and pen ready.)

(While telling me this, Jane abruptly remembered that during part of the delivery she seemed to be standing beside the long, floor-to-ceiling bookcase that divides our living room from her workroom. [...]

[...] She didn’t remember seeing herself in her chair, for instance, nor did she see me as I sat on the couch taking notes. [...]

[...] And in return for Seth speaking, Dr. Guy staged his own little magic show for Jane and me—to our amazement and intense interest—as the three of us sat around the living-room table.

[...] For that matter, we hadn’t even asked him exactly what Dr. Camper wanted him to find out about Jane and Seth—or even me. [...]