“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(3:40. Jane began making throaty noises and lifting her left leg up and flexing the foot—2” off the mattress. Her right foot started moving also. Then her head and shoulders began moving against the pillow and mattress. “Is the door closed?”

(3:46. Louder noises. Torso side to side. Rest. Then Susie and Sharon Poley came in to take temperature—96—pulse, and BP.

(4:00. After LuAnn gave Jane eye drops my wife’s feet both began going, left one up in the air. She began strong head motions with many noises. Rest, the left ankle still flexing on the bed at 4:05.

(4:08. Suddenly her left leg lifted clear of the bed, and Jane cried out and made other noises as the ankle began rotating again, quite flexibly. It seems the folded pillow under her left leg acts as a handy fulcrum for leg movements, offering her some support and confidence when she starts moving. But when she lifts her foot off the bed, the leg is clear of the pillow support.

[...] Loud noises. More strong movements, most of her body rocking up and down, then back and forth—head, arms, noises. [...]

[...] She made many noises and grunts. [...]

[...] Many of them were strong indeed, with loud grunting and panting noises. [...]

[...] Suddenly Jane began rocking her head and neck back and forth against the pillow quite violently, at the same time making a series of crying noises. [...]

[...] Traffic noise was a problem once more; our windows of course had to be open, although the blinds were drawn. The quality of the air seemed to aggravate the noise, and quite often during the session Jane appeared to pause until the noise abated temporarily. I felt that the noise, being such a problem, was influencing the quality of the session.

(Cars and trucks rumbled and boomed by outside, and Jane sat quietly until the noise subsided somewhat. [...]

(Another long pause, until the traffic noise subsided. [...]

[...] She used many pauses other than those indicated, and said she was aware of the traffic noise at times. [...]

[...] I always work on several thicknesses of paper so that writing noise is not a problem, and use a ballpoint pen to avoid scratching noises. [...]

[...] Even though the window was on the side of the house, we immediately became aware of some traffic noise.

[...] She was however still bothered and upset; this time the traffic noise contributed. [...]

[...] Your reaction then to the noise was upsetting, which is quite all right, because now your reactions there can be consciously assimilated. [...] Though your particular interpretations of distractions may vary, to him the noise itself, for example, is not so charged. But quite rightly he recognizes the noise as your symbol for distraction. [...]

[...] By then we were both quite upset, although I think Jane’s unease stemmed more from my reaction to the noise, than it did from any noise itself.)

[...] Noise to you personally is a symbol for all of life’s distractions. [...]

[...] Sound to him does not have the same meaning, though he may dislike the noise. [...]

(The animal/bird noises continued in the fireplace chimney behind me. [...] Right now the noises seemed to have receded somewhat.)

[...] I’d heard the same sound a few days ago, but since it had been a windy day I’d thought the noise was caused by branches rubbing against the house or fireplace outside. [...]

[...] (The noise from the fireplace was now quite loud.) Your very ideas of the nature of reality change. [...]

Both of you have this thing about noise, and so I will speak to you both at once. [...]

[...] You know that it is, but you must think of what noise represents to you, and what it is that you do not want to hear, and why at this particular time you do not want to hear it. [...]

[...] Now I want this Mu also to be directed at our friend here (Sue) and let them both see that noise can be spiritual and vital and healing and alive and good. [...]

[...] She made some motions with her head and shoulders off the bed, side to side, with noises and harder breathing. [...]

[...] Noises in breathing. [...]

[...] You can be surrounded by some noise (as Seth, Jane pointed to the ceiling; someone was moving into the apartment above us) or traffic, and feel its great synthesis with the vitality of life, and it can be conducive to peace. This does not mean that silence at times is not preferable to noise. [...]

[...] Traffic noise also seemed much louder than usual. [...]

[...] The neighbor’s phonograph bothered her, she said, and so did the traffic noise. [...]

[...] The music from across the way had stopped sometime during the last delivery, but Jane said the traffic noise continued to bother her. [...]

[...] Noises, grunts and groans. [...]

[...] “Oh, oh, oh”—good motions of her head and torso, with noises, and feet alternating motions also. [...]

[...] There was quite a bit of traffic noise even at this hour, and Jane’s voice had a stronger edge, as though to cut through it.)

(The traffic noise was now even heavier. [...]

[...] She said the traffic noise bothered her, but that she would make an effort to see that it didn’t continue to do so.

[...] She now acted as though immune to the traffic noise, and I realized that at times I too had forgotten about it as I wrote along.)

[...] Up beyond the damper, I could easily hear our raccoon guests busily chattering away: perhaps it was feeding time, their noise was loud, now—a sure sign of growing things, I thought. [...]

(All of a sudden the noises from the fireplace were so loud and intimate that I thought that somehow the raccoons had managed to get past the closed damper and were behind the screen in the fireplace itself, but Jane continued as usual in trance.)

(Now the noise in the fireplace was fluctuating.) There you run into problems involved with Catholic or Christian devotion, the natural feedback needed in the development of creative work, and the striking originality of creative ventures that strike out on their own, forming their own paths. [...]

(“Tumult, meaning noise.” referred, Jane said, to the traffic noise we became sharply aware of while working about the Birch house. Although situated on a hillside, the traffic noise seemed to roll up at us, and we used this as a reason for not buying the house. [...]

Tumult, meaning noise. [...]

(When I drove up Coleman Avenue to the hill house last night, I became aware of a strange vibrating, shuddering noise in the car’s underbody. [...]

(This morning after breakfast I took the car to Ron Traver’s service station — but the noise, which I’d heard when I started it up — had disappeared by then. [...]

[...] At the same time for all your protest, the (to me) apartment noises are comforting. [...] They remind you of the noises in your family home, conflicting and yet comforting. [...]

[...] A few minutes later, another ant, plus the noises.

[...] She made a lot of grunting and heavy breathing noises: “Oh God, Bob....” [...]

[...] Then her head and shoulders started in again—side to side, noises and grunts. [...]

[...] “It’s all right, kid, it’s all right,” Jane said amid her other noises. [...]

[...] Noises, rising torso, up and down. [...]

Now as to your noise episode, here are some suggestions for future use in any episode where irritation is involved. [...]

[...] You fought a battle with yourself however over the noise issue, and this more than the lack of sleep leaves you in need, now, of that refreshment that sleep can bring.