“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Through the early afternoon of a very hot day — over 90 degrees — a storm had been trying to manifest. Gradually the sun disappeared behind heavier and heavier clouds, yet the rain seemed most reluctant to show itself. I hoped we’d get a heavy rain for the backyard at the house. A strong breeze kept whipping up the airy branches of the mountain ash outside the windows of 330, and the room began to cool down a bit.

(Then there came a stronger wind, and thunder in the distance, and the start of a meager rain. Traffic sounded louder. Doors slammed in the hospital corridor, and at the bathroom entrance to 330. Through it all Jane kept speaking in trance — and I gave up on expecting a real rain.)

(3:42. There was a thunderclap not far away. Getting up to stretch, I saw that I’d been mistaken earlier: it hadn’t actually started to rain yet. But it did now, fairly good. We decided to turn Jane on her side early, so I could feed her before leaving for the dentist’s at 5:45. I’d saved a plate of food from lunch for this, in case the supper tray didn’t show up in time. It did come early, though, just as though we’d asked for it, so Jane had eaten most of her supper before I left.)

[...] Sheets of rain raced before it. [...] Dimly in the racket, as I watched the heavy rain, I heard Jane cry out. [...]

[...] A thunderstorm had been trying to develop for some little while; finally it began to rain and blow as I helped Jane prepare a dish to be baked for our evening meal.

(Almost at once the strong wind began to subside, although the rain continued. [...]

the rains fall, when my soul is parched

still the rains fall and the grasses grow

or the rain that falls from other skies

(It was still raining when I got to 330 this afternoon; it had rained all of last night and this morning. [...]

[...] I could see that rain was still falling, as it had all afternoon. [...]

[...] So I had to circle around to it in the pouring rain, and got fairly wet before I reached it. [...]

Medicine men may do a rain dance. [...]

[...] You each participate in the creation of each thunderstorm, each new spring, each flood, earthquake, and summer rain.

[...] Finally it began to rain hard, with thunder and lightning, at about 9. We wondered whether a session would be held, since Seth had told us some time ago that electrical displays interfered with trance states. [...]

(The rain, thunder and lightning continued unabated, the noise racketing back and forth over the city. [...]

[...] We were now having a very heavy, hard rain.)

[...] Your poor little innocent flower, when it rains and thunders and storms come, does our little flower look up and say, “Here comes that evil lightening and thunder?” It does not think that the thunder and the lightening and the wind and the rain are out to get it. [...] And it has the sense to realize that it needs the rain, even though the rain that comes down may rip off a couple of its leaves. [...]

They lived upon the physical planet with its wind and rain and storms and violence and animal [sic] but they would not show violence, they could not commit a violent act. [...] They became so terrified of the natural earth, with its pounding rains and wind that they literally crept into the bowels of the earth and lived there feeling as triumphant, when they set up a civilization within the earth, as you will feel when you set one up outside of the earth. [...]

[...] I run back through the open area, only now I realize that the rain is radioactive. [...] The rain spatters on my legs. [...]

I dreamed that it had been raining. [...]

[...] In both the dream and physical events, the road is wet from rain. [...]

(We had a heavy rain at times last night and this morning.)

(A light rain had begun just before I left 330, but it quickly turned into a downpour as I drove home. [...]

[...] The storm raged in a gale of thunder, wind, and rain. [...] The rain began to slack off. [...]

[...] The rain lashed down.)

(There was much thunder and wind and heavy rain.)

[...] I don’t know the time but it was dark and raining hard, with flashes of soundless lightning. [...] Immediately after the two experiences that Seth describes in this session, involving the rain creature and the light, I added this section to Dialogues:

[...] One night he stood at the kitchen window, and quite without drugs saw a rainy puddle below suddenly turn into an alive, beautifully fluid creature who stood up and walked while the rain slid off its liquid sides.

[...] He knew that in the physical world the puddle was flat, but that he was perceiving another just-as-solid reality; a larger one, in fact, in which that rain creature had its being.

Now I ask you—how far do you think a flower would get if, in the morning, it turned its face toward the sky and said, “I demand the sun?” “And now I need rain. So I demand the rain! [...] I demand therefore the sun shall shine for a certain amount of hours; the rain shall pour for a certain amount of hours; and the bees shall come—bee A, C, D, E and F—and I shall accept no other bees to come. [...]

[...] If it rains you can stay inside, run naked between the raindrops, wear galoshes and carry an umbrella, take a cab, or be so involved in your own activities that you are not even aware that it is raining at all, and the same applies to inclement psychological climates. [...]

It is as if seeing a raindrop, you are terrified of a thunderstorm, so you closed your eyes so as not to see the rain, until finally to your surprise your feet became soaking wet, and the message got through. [...]

Raindrop patterns in a puddle follow certain laws having to do with the contours of the land, the weather, the nature of the rain, of the clouds, the height from which the raindrops fall, and the conditions operating in the nearby and far portions of the world. [...]

[...] The rain that hits your backyard as warm drops, soft and clear, may be hail in areas far above your rooftop, but it changes its form as it falls — again, according to the conditions that it encounters. [...]

There are gullies, hills, mountains, valleys, large continents, small islands upon the earth, and the falling rain fits itself to those contours. [...]

[...] You cut yourselves off from such nourishment—as if a flower said, “I will not accept the rain because I do not understand it—and, intellectually I do not know what makes it rain and, therefore, I will not accept the rain.” [...]

[...] There was a rather unusual rain and lightning storm of a mild nature, which kept up through the session. [...]

[...] This, in combination with the rain, you see.

(It had begun to rain a while ago. Now the storm resumed in full fury, the worst rain and hailstorm here in 16 years according to later reports. [...] The sound of rain upon it is usually very pleasant. [...]

(A very heavy rain and hailstorm developed at 8:30 this evening. [...]

[...] I could have asked more questions, but the rain and hail made so much noise I could hardly hear Jane.

[...] Now, when the rain falls it gratefully accepts the droplets. It does not turn its head upward and say, “Yes, but does the rain exist, or does it not? [...] And unless I understand how this occurs, then I will not accept the rain.” [...] But if it is a fancy tale, it would behoove you to listen, for the moment that the flower says, “I deny, therefore, I deny the sunlight or the rain,” then the flower, indeed, would deny the grace of existence. [...]

(This afternoon I mowed some grass out front as soon as it stopped raining, then typed last night’s session, almost finishing it. [...]

(It had rained hard after supper, but slackened as session time drew close. [...]

[...] It was raining heavily, but warm. [...]

[...] It was still raining pretty hard.)