“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(“A center, as the center of spokes. As the spokes of a wheel, for example.” In a free manner Seth uses associations of Jane’s to get at the idea of a car, or travel. The parking ticket was obtained at the state park as a result of a 60-mile round trip by automobile, as were the two subsequent parking tickets for the same state park. But again no mention of either a car or the park in specific terms.

(See the tracing of the object and the notes on page 284. As stated we obtained the parking ticket used as object on July 12,1966 at Robert Treman State Park, Ithaca, NY, and I kept track of this date by attaching a note to the ticket. Other visits to the same park later in the week enter into the data, and these will be discussed as the need arises. Seth also helps out after break. In the meantime Jane and I began making our own connections with the object.

(“The impression of a chain, or chain of events.” Jane felt subjectively that this referred to the mention on the back of the parking ticket regarding the Finger Lakes State Parks Commission, which includes several parks of course in its territory.

(The envelope object for the 64th envelope experiment was a parking ticket obtained at Robert Treman State Park, near Ithaca, NY, on July 12,1966, on our recent vacation. It is printed in black on card stock, with the serial number in a light blue ink. I enclosed it between two pieces of Bristol, then inserted this into the usual double envelopes. Ithaca is 30-some miles northest of Elmira.

[...] First a mutual friend of Jane’s and F. Halliday explained what was intended by the parking lot. This on Thursday, May 1. F. Halliday could not believe the parking lot idea, saying she had been told a “circular driveway” was all that had been planned, curving around the doctor’s house next door, and not disturbing much property. She had no idea that much of the yard on the side of the house, from the street to the far back fence, had been earmarked by our landlord for sale to Dr Levine for a parking lot.

[...] She may not buy, believing that a parking area will be set up to drive off the sort of tenants she wants; and then after this proscribed time of contract the parking area itself may well fall through, as I told you. [...]

[...] Your feelings toward the parking lot have gone out from you, and from others, to bring the proceeding at least to a temporary halt. [...]

I believe that the garage will be torn down to provide extra parking in any case—the doctor’s garage. [...]

[...] When I opened it I found a check for $1,000 made out by Helen Granger Park. [...] I was momentarily confused — for my art teacher in high school in Sayre, Pennsylvania had been Helen Bowman, until she married later in life and became Helen Bowman Park. [...] It turned out that the Helen Park who had written had read Maude’s article in Reality Change, and sent the check to Sue to forward to us, to make sure we’d get it safely. That Helen Park lives in Austin, Texas. [...] I told Jane I didn’t know whether to attach any significance to the two Helen Parks or not. [...]

[...] I also thought that although Helen Park said in her letter that there were no strings attached to the donation, still there must be attachments in some form — that it was natural that there would be. [...]

(I went food shopping at SuperDuper, ate a later supper than usual, and called Helen Park in Austin. [...]

[...] Instantly, I found myself walking along the park path, sometimes slightly above it. [...] I worked at getting clearer focus and really enjoyed walking down the park paths. I hadn’t been in that park for years and was consciously delighted. [...]

As I fell off to sleep I had been thinking of Congress Park in Saratoga Springs, New York. [...] I found myself seeing Congress Park very clearly, for example, yet I wasn’t there yet, and my head kept throbbing in a way that wasn’t physical — as if I heard rather than felt the throbs. [...]

At the end of the park basin are a flight of stone steps leading to another street and an old house in which I once lived for a short time. [...] After wandering through the upstairs hall and seeing no one, I went out to the side porch and stood looking out at the park and enjoying the night air.

[...] For a few moments I kept fluctuating — back to the park then back to my room — with the white light pulsating very strongly. [...]

[...] One can stand next to the elevator bank and look out at the parking lot for the emergency room at the back of the hospital. I often do this on my way out, for I can see my car out there where I usually park. [...]

[...] With snow, the parking lot is sufficient. [...]

(Looking up the address of this publisher, she was further surprised to learn that it was at 386 Park Avenue South, New York City—the same address as Frederick Fell, the publisher of her ESP book. [...]

(When Jane and I visited F. Fell’ s office in New York City last July, we stood in the foyer of 386 Park Avenue South and scanned the list of tenants. [...]

(Jane dictates:) There was an afternoon in a small park when you were a boy, about eleven. [...]

[...] Nevertheless, occasionally a personality will astound itself by such an image production as the one you met in the park. [...]

[...] When he feels like motion, as tonight in the parking area, that is the correct thing to do. [...]

(November 3, Tuesday 7 AM: Getting dressed for work this morning, I abruptly had the rather clear thought that I should walk back to my studio and look out the back windows, because I would be able to see that a car was parked in front of the garage, blocking the exit of my car from the garage. Looking out the windows, I received a jolt when I did see a car so parked, blocking off the exit of my own car.

[...] By agreement we park so as not to block each other’s automobile comings and goings, and the system works well. I do not know why on this particular occasion his car was parked as it was; perhaps because another car had temporarily taken his regular place, then left later. [...]

[...] Now she told me how earlier today she’d imagined herself visiting Enfield Glen.^* She said she did very well thinking of herself walking and climbing around the park and the pool — but then she ended up blue, thinking of all she had to go through yet before she could do those things. [...]

(Both of us instantly remembered the Jungle Gym at the lakeside park in Webster, where we’d first noticed Jane’s faltering in physical movement so many years ago. [...]

[...] No doctor stood in the parking lot with a monkey on a leash, yet in other terms the event was literal, for your doctors feel that they must control the animal in you to heal, and that without their leash the animals would run wild. [...]

[...] She had a cigarette while I talked of going out to the parking lot to run up the car. [...]

(I also discussed the dream I’d had last month, in which I’d seen the checks out in the parking lot by the front tire of our car. [...]

[...] I told her I’m always going to park out front and just walk through the house, but I never do. [...]

^* Enfield Glen is the local name for Robert Treman State Park. [...]

(She had tried to call me twice last night, but her attempts had been made while I was talking to Helen Park and Sue Watkins, evidently. [...]

[...] I do not know that it is possible to travel part way through a tunnel, then park. Seth/Jane may have meant that Wendell drove to New York City via one of the tunnels, then parked at the tunnel exit, which is possible, and took a subway to the restaurant, rather than one in New Jersey. [...]

[...] Did so, part way through the tunnel, but then he parked the car and went by subway.

Orange Beach Park.