“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] And there for the moment events seem to swirl in place—storms of consciousness that, I think, are bound to combine in new patterns to further explore certain large challenges.¹

And while I speak to you, my lungs
Rise and fall behind breastbones,
Fill their secret tissue mouths
With the air that swirls in this bright room.
They breathe for me the very breath
Upon which all I am depends,
Yet I do not know how this is done.
Who is this ghost,
This other one?
Who moves the lung? [...]

[...] In that game they enjoy the motion of their bodies, but they do not identify with those swirling circles. [...]

When all of summer’s
splendid leafery is gone
then space seems to surround
us everywhere, far and close.
The immense vault of the universe
turns intimate,
reaches to our chimneytops
in shining swirls of sudden openness
just outside of our back doors.
Space from the galaxies
rushes in to fill the new emptiness
where a million million leaves were,
and the valleys hold
natural cupfuls of space,
filled to their transparent brims.

[...] It was as though the world outside of the immediate focus of my eyes was only half-formed; the rest, grayish and swirling.

Probabilities may be swirling everywhere, yet remain of course unperceived in any given instant, so that you might in this odd strange analogy (pause) hear a dim brief whirr, as in the whirling of winds, and think it unimportant—while what you heard instead was an entire world of probabilities speed past where you stood (intently).