“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

During class, with the lights on, Rose Cafford suddenly said that she saw my aura. She has been able to see auras for years on some occasions, so has Rachel Clayton, I think. Vera and Theodore were then able to see it; and Sally, everyone but Florence, I believe. Without telling them what I was trying to do, I concentrated on making my aura brighter, saying to myself, fire bright. Almost immediately Rose, Sally and Rachel said that the aura was suddenly extremely bright; did this several times. (I had never seen an aura.) It also changed color. They said that, alone, it was white and quite wide and easily noticeable.

Watching the hand in transition, changes apparent as they happened, joints and knuckles becoming very thick and large, flesh seeming to disappear so that hand became thinner otherwise,hand taking on the look of a very old woman’s, exceedingly bony, with the large, they said, exceptionally large, joints obvious; Rose frightened; Sally said the hand looked so stiff that it was here she asked me if I could bend the fingers, it was here I couldn’t answer her but did try to bend the hand; and at this point decided to give myself suggestions to come out of trance and for hand to return to normal. Afterwards, a comparison of hand as it was normally, with what they saw. I wondered if just the light? suggestion? But no suggestion had been given. My own hands are bony—but no, Rose said that my hand now was the normal hand of a young woman and it definitely had been an old woman’s hand; a very old woman’s hand. Everyone agreed on this—even Florence—but Theodore. He thought that perhaps my hand had gone to sleep—it hadn’t—don’t know how much time this took, perhaps ten minutes all in all, with hand manifestation taking up... three to five minutes?

Then we sat around coffee table with lights on, and lighted candle down to the end of the table. Aloud I asked for the candlelight to change, for the flame to rise. Instead, I felt a strange feeling of extension above my head and before I could comment on it, Rose and someone else —Sally?—called out that my aura had changed color and was now purple. Several more times this happened, aura changes taking place while I subjectively experienced this extension—the same feeling I have in the new sessions with Rob. Definitely not imagination, anyhow; quite definite; I’d say, physical, though the “physical” feeling is where no physical part of me is. No suggestions were given as to aura here, though finally I did tell them when I had the feeling and ask if there was an aura change. This the most vivid experience to me of the night.

Now, I will speak to the lovely roses in the vase so that you will know I am not addressing anyone in particular. Now, one of these roses leaves the familiar world that it knows and embarks upon out-of-body experiences quite frequently, but this rose has a beautiful memory. In the out-of-body state this rose remembers all the out-of-body experiences it has had, but when it comes back to the body it forgets them all. [...] Now, I will give you some information on the subject, though it is too late this evening, and if you want some specific exercises that you personally can use, I do not know that you will smell as sweet as a rose on your return, but we will see to it that you get the exercises. [...]

[...] My heartiest regards to you all and particularly to my friend of the roses to whom I will not look. [...]

Each new rose in the springtime is in truth a new rose, composed of completely new and unique energy, utterly itself, innocent, alive in the world.

[...] A rose is a rose is a rose. In the dream state, however, a rose can be an orange, a song, a grave, or a child as well, and be each equally.

[...] Your (to Rose) information was quite legitimate (this referred to a letter Rose received from England). [...]

[...] You (Rose) are doing well but you are still going very cautiously. [...]

(Rose discussed reincarnation and stated her desire that the door not quite be closed for her “next one”—she wanted to be able to peek back and use some of her previous experiences.)

I told you that the affair would work out well (Rose) and you can, I believe, expect further developments during the next ten days in particular. [...]

[...] I would demand that your husband know why (to Rose) and rid himself of the problem that was causing the symptoms. [...]

[...] Ruburt is speaking for me—why do you cough (Rose)? [...]

[...] Seth ‘never promised us a rose garden,’ and we have our good days and our bad days as we encounter life’s daily challenges, joys, adventures, and misadventures. [...] If Seth didn’t give us a rose garden, he certainly did — and does — try to tell us where the weeds come from! [...]

(The roses seemed to linger particularly late last fall. [...]

The temporal rose
Contains
Eternal seeds
In which
The entire universe
(and you and I)
Are all implied.

(Now, while Jane still sat with her left wrist pressed to the table, her hand, turning white in part again, rose several inches [perhaps three by my estimate] up from the table. [...] [Was Jane’s elbow dropping, so the hand rose up? [...]

[...] At the joining of hand and wrist, the flesh rose up in an egglike lump; the light crept up Jane’s arm to her sweater, and bled down her fingers until all semblance of shadow was gone. [...]

[...] Present were Florence and Harvey and their son Daniel, and Rose and Archie Cafford.)

[...] It is hard for me to tell you that you are a merry rose in a happy garden (to Florence. [...]

(Present January 13, 1970: Sue, Ned, Rose, Sally [and guest], Rachel, Florence, Vera, Theodore, and Brad, and Lydia.)

[...] Attending were Andrea, Rose Cafford and Florence McIntyre. [...]

[...] There were three witnesses present: Andrea Bergere, Rose Cafford and Florence McIntyre. [...]

(Discussion about predestination led by Rose to say that Seth would make a good Presbyterian.)

[...] At the same time she rose and began to pace slowly about.

[...] Seth mentioned “something yellow and something rose.” Lorraine told us the walls of the apartment were painted yellow, and that the furniture was of the old-fashioned kind with large rose decorations.

[...] I see something yellow and something rose; and voices rising, and something broken. [...]

[...] At certain tides she rose to peaks of high encouragement that helped him. [...]

[...] Now he rose above them. [...]

[...] The Rose Bowl [football] parade was on TV. [...]

[...] The crickets and wood bugs rose up in song from the summer-thick woods out back. [...]

(“With a rose.” [...] My painting includes some wax roses.

[...] With a rose. [...]