“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(She ate an average lunch. I described my very vivid dream of last night. It was most exhilarating. I dreamed I was jogging along a country road beside the Chemung River on the way toward Sayre. The road was similar to the old river road we used to drive. I wore shorts and a sweatshirt and had white hair. I was amazed and delighted at the smooth, effortless way my body was performing as I ran, especially for one my age. I really enjoyed the freedom of motion, of strength, running in the sunny summer air.

(I knew I’d been imprisoned, and that I was now free. Also that behind me, not too close, ran a police van, with several cops in it checking up on me. Every so often they came closer, but didn’t interfere. And across the river at one spot, I saw a large group of men romping or working on the bank — I think they were still incarcerated. I waved to them as I ran past, opposite them.

(I told Jane that I thought the police in the dream meant that I’d left behind me old imprisoning beliefs, that I was now running free of those beliefs. Also, the group of men across the river represented old beliefs of mine that I’d discarded. I added that if I had the time I’d like to do some jogging now, since I have an ability and love for running.

[...] The crossing of the River Styx is such a one. [...] At death, the consciousness hallucinated the river vividly. [...] The river was as real as any that you know, as treacherous to a traveler alone without proper knowledge. Guides were always at the river to help such travelers across.

It does not do to say that such a river is illusion. [...]

(Early last Wednesday an ominous development began unfolding at Three Mile Island, the nuclear-power-plant located on an island in the Susquehanna River below Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. It seems that through a combination of mechanical failures and human error, unit 2, one of the plant’s two nuclear reactors, overheated and discharged radioactive water into the river, and began releasing small amounts of radioactive gasses into the atmosphere. [...]

[...] On the other side of the highway runs the Chemung River. Jane and I could see the river from the long front porch of the house, looking down through the trees. [...]

[...] A river is the next best thing, as long as the land is not low. [...]

The river about that location is beneficial. [...]

[...] Seth’s reference to a safe place to swim concerns the stretch of the Chemung River that we could see from the hillside position of the house we are interested in.

[...] I had used Jane as a model, and in the painting she stood by a river, beneath trees; across the river could be glimpsed a village.)

The depth of this reality cannot be plunged into in the same manner that one plunges into a river or a stream. [...]

Ruburt I believe once wrote a poem in which he stated, much more poetically indeed, that pain was deeper than a lake or a river; and this type of depth is that to which I refer here. [...]

The so-called stream of consciousness is simply that — one small stream of thoughts, images, and impressions — that is part of a much deeper river of consciousness that represents your own far greater existence and experience. [...]

Now often you tune into these other streams of consciousness without realizing that you have done so — for again, they are a part of the same river of your identity. [...]

[...] There are, therefore, channels that exist between all these streams of consciousness, all these symbolic rivers of psychological and psychic experience, and there are journeys that can be made from my dimension as well as yours.

[...] River air is wet, but it may be healthy or unhealthy, according to the nature of the river, the land, and the attitude of the people. After the flood [in your area], the river air is felt to be a threat, and to many it is therefore unhealthy. [...]

Water has healing qualities, and walks by the river when practical, will be of benefit. [...]

[...] Flowing through Elmira, NY, the Chemung River passes close to our apartment.)

[...] Railroad reminded her of a river, very narrow, that ran nearby.

(“What was the name of that river?”)

[...] In Elmira the Art Shop is located on West Water Street, which parallels the Chemung River through the heart of the city. The river can be seen from the back door of the Art Shop, and from the second-story workroom above where Tom makes his frames, etc. [...]

(From the back window of this second-story room, a view can also be had of the river.

[...] Do not, again, move close to a river. [...]

[...] She began to stop at intervals, exclaiming over all of those surroundings that were, of course, very familiar to us: the swooping automobiles, the street lights and neon signs, the buildings themselves, the Chemung River rolling quietly behind its dike in back of the emporium we’d just left.

[...] Part of consciousness, then, transformed itself into what you think of as nature—the vast sweep of the continents, the oceans and the rivers, the mountains and the valleys, the body of the land. [...]

[...] She is now open and receptive to the healing currents which are flowing through her like a river, restoring her to perfect health, harmony, and peace.

[...] Impressions: an A. (Pause.) Lived in a town by a river. [...]

[...] He did know she had been in Hazelton less than a year, returning there from Philadelphia, which is on a river.

(Early last Wednesday an ominous development began unfolding at Three Mile Island, the nuclear power generating plant located on an island in the Susquehanna River below Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. [...] 2, one of the plant’s two nuclear reactors, overheated, discharging radioactive water into the river, and began releasing small amounts of radioactive gases into the atmosphere. [...]

At midnight I rush to the river’s edge.
I’d bay at the moon if I could.
And fish and birds and sky and sand
Cascade in a splash in my blood.

Mountains and hillsides cut through my arm.
Rivers fly past my pulse
Generations of ghosts laugh at my talk
While my tissues burn and go up in smoke.

[...] She and I had been walking — hiking — along the banks of the Susquehanna River toward Sayre. [...]

You had one brief experience before this one but did not remember, where you walked along the banks of a misty river landscape. [...]

[...] The water was a river, I believe. At least it seems to have been banked on either side, so I presume it was a river. [...]