“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

All I recall is final scene. No idea how or why, but a large multitude of people including myself have come to the ocean shore. The sky is sudsy, like soapy clouds, mixing with the water. Some people are in a huge bathtub filled with hot soapy water. Another person says something I’ve forgotten to the idea that… the ocean water or sky, … were dangerous or maybe that it was lightening, but I dismiss this, stand in the bathtub and the water is great, hot and soapy. Then a man begins to recite a poem as he walks up and down the shore. The poem isn’t very good but I feel indulgent because his intentions are good....

Imagine that you are a small sandy island with softly graded shores (pause), some palm trees (pause), and a haven for traveling birds. [...]

The second island says: “Suppose my spirit visits your island for a while, to discover what it is like to possess palm trees, a few birds, and a tranquil shore. [...]

[...] When the volcano itself, ceaselessly erupting, wishes for peace, the spirit of the first island thinks of its own quiet home shores. [...]

[...] To plunge into this ocean you also leave the physical body at the shore. [...]

[...] The plane did not fall in the middle of a huge expanse—perhaps between the mainland and another shore. [...]

Traveling from one shore of it to another becomes a vast learning adventure, in which both sea and sky are observed in all of their moods and nuances while you are safely ensconced all of the while. [...]

[...] I consider myself an exuberant psychological explorer, finding myself, at my own request, happily set adrift among universes, able to shout with a loud hearty voice from the hypothetical shore of one to another, news of what I have found and am still finding.”

Many birds in their fantastic migrations demonstrate an amazing optimism, traveling thousands of miles to distant shores, almost literally flying by faith, as it were, ignoring all dangers, unbeseiged by doubts. [...]

[...] Nutmeg from one shore, cloves from another.”

Right at the shore, perhaps down and ahead, a scooped out circular indentation, where there is swift current because of rocks—

[...] In a fashion (underlined twice), they pool their resources, and climb aboard the one ship that makes it to the shore (animated and restless). [...]

In the Guyana affair, you had “red-blooded Americans” dying on a foreign shore (in South America), but not under a banner of war, which under certain circumstances would have been acceptable. [...]

[...] It is aware of the position of each grain of sand on the shores of each ocean, and in those terms it forms a portion of the earth’s consciousness.

[...] A man did not so much stand at the shore looking down at the water, as he immersed his consciousness within it. [...]

Right at the shore, perhaps directly down and ahead, a scooped-out circular (gesture) indention, where there is swift current because of rocks. [...]

[...] You cannot leap out of the craft in midstream, so to speak, nor have the craft develop serious difficulties when you are far from shore. [...]

[...] You have not even danced about the shore. [...]

Jane, then, wrote those two poems 16 days before she dictated the last session for Seth’s The Nature of the Psyche on April 4, 1977; one month before she began dictating Mass Events on April 18, 1977; two years and two months before she began God of Jane on May 6, 1979; two years and six months before she began dictating the Preface for Dreams on September 25, 1979; two years and eight months before she came up with the idea for If We Live Again on November 15, 1979; three years and five months before she began dictating Seth’s material on the magical approach to reality in Dreams on August 6, 1980; four years before she began dictating Seth’s sinful-self material in that book on March 11, 1981; four years and three months before she began coming through with her own sinful-self information on June 17, 1981; and four years and five months before, on August 26, 1981, she wrote the poem in Note 6 for Session 936 of Dreams: “Something in me / ebbs and tides, / as if I let myself / for a while / be washed away / out to sea / while leaving / some spidery shell / upon the shore /….”

[...] The nearest I can come now is that one life was concerned with the occupation of a boatsman, of rather small craft, skirting near the shores of the Mediterranean.

[...] It would be highly difficult then to pull in your bridge and scramble back to the other shore. [...]

[...] 7/3, PM: I saw dark water with moonlight upon it, a woman’s unclear figure on the shore. [...]