“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] You could, if you wished, condense your consciousness until it was small enough to travel through a single molecule, and from the molecule’s own world look out and survey the universe of the room and the gigantic galaxy of interrelated, ever-moving starlike shapes. [...]

[...] If you gained your sense of personal continuity through associative processes primarily, rather than as a result of the familiarity of self moving through time, then you would experience physical reality in an entirely different fashion. [...]

[...] We can travel through the varying intensities that make up a concept, and therefore experience it directly, as, say, you can move through a storm or a sunny day. It is not so much that you move through as that you directly experience. [...]

[...] I am sorry that I do not move tables as well as AA, but were I interested in moving tables, I can assure that this one would fly through the window and end out in the middle of Water Street! [...]

The constant furniture moving certainly bothers you, Joseph. [...]

(I had mentioned this thought to Jane several hours ago, thinking that if she needed an exclusive workroom there was no solution for it but to move to a larger apartment.)

(At 9:34 the service truck moved to the back of our house; we could see a man with a flashlight checking wires, etc., but no one knocked on our door. [...]

[...] A very weak analogy can be found if you imagine at one time hearing the most exciting and moving music imaginable, while simultaneously smelling the strongest but not necessarily unpleasant odor, viewing the most emotionally-charged scene while feeling intense and vivid bodily sensations. [...]

[...] Frank Longwell just went out back again, to finish working; the huge yellow back-hoe moves outside the kitchen window; the air suddenly turns dark; the sun disappears; an odd cast of light covers everything; stormy, evocative. [...]

[...] My head and neck area have been “moving around” constantly inside themselves, as mentioned in yesterday’s notes. [...]

[...] He felt literally paralyzed, and unable to move. Now he can move, but he still cannot run, you see. He moves much better. [...]

[...] And oh, yes, both of us also did a lot of ordinary living, such as moving and getting settled in our new home and entertaining friends now and then. [...]

[...] I wrote the following notes in October 1975, some seven months after Jane and I had moved into our “new” house:

In its way the nighttime visitation was even more mysterious, for that time I looked up at a starlit but moonless sky that didn’t have a cloud in sight — and heard this multitudinous sound moving across it. [...]

[...] They have moved to a new house. [...] His foot rests upon a coffee table, as he moves back and forth in his rocking chair. [...]

Our artist then realizes that all of the people he painted are also painting their own pictures, and moving about in their own realities in a way that even he cannot perceive.

[...] A couple of minutes later she said, “Every time I start to compose myself for a session my legs start moving—but I shouldn’t complain about that, should I? [...]

[...] “They moved Teresa over to the psyche-center. [...]

[...] Each move that you make is not multiplied a million times, not simply multiplied, but it reaches out and changes and alters and affects these other realities and it becomes a new action. [...]

[...] He is broken up because he has moved his furniture, but he does not confuse me. [...]

[...] The candle was moved. The flame was moved, if my friend Ruburt will forgive me, by a friendly spirit who was within call. [...]

[...] There are particles that move faster than light. There are portions of your consciousness that move faster than light also—but while you conceive of your consciousnesses as a kind of psychological particle, then your experience of it becomes limited to the world of matter in which you believe it must exist.

(Rather than go into more detail here, I’ll move to the session, which Jane began quite a bit later. [...]

[...] When I asked her if she wanted to be buried or cremated, she expressed no strong wish for either mode, but finally chose cremation — maybe because I said what would I do if I wanted to move out of town a few years after she’d been buried. [...]

(After receiving the above material I moved over to a table to make notes on it. [...]

[...] When she began speaking the voice was high and distant, with little inflection, and as usual ended on a peculiar upbeat so that at times it was hard to detect the ending of a sentence, etc, Jane moved very little as she spoke; her glasses remained on. [...]

[...] moving rather rapidly perhaps only half an inch. [...]

[...] Here then is a source of power and wisdom that places you in touch with omnipotence, or the power that moves the world, guides the planets in their course, and causes the sun to shine. [...]

[...] “I’ve always moved furniture, even as a kid,” I said. “I used to move from a side bedroom to a front one whenever the mood hit me. [...]

When you are tired, Joseph, we will take a break, or you may move around the room. [...]

[...] Added to this is his strong domestic feelings now as a woman — and this, my dear Joseph, explains the incredible amount of furniture movings in which you have been involved.

[...] I know now that if it hadn’t been for this divider, we would have moved long ago. [...]

If you had to use that kind of process before you could move a muscle, you would get nowhere at all, of course. [...]

[...] Here then is a source of power and wisdom that places you in touch with omnipotence, or the power that moves the world, guides the planets in their course, and causes the sun to shine. [...]