“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

My eyes are constantly improving; and this afternoon I wanted to write down these odd sensations. They begin around the back of my right ear like tiny circles suddenly turning; or clock wheels that had been wound too tightly, being released; then the motion spreads out in concentric circles, up to the right eye, and down to the right jaw. To a lesser extent, the same happens on the right side though, there, its only beginning. And there’s the feeling of circular ripples from the small wheels, going all the way down to the right foot and toes; and with this, the feeling that these small wheels, circles, or clock-works have been too tight; constricted; and that these in the head are the “master ones” and as they release, motion is being restored to some degree all over. With this, as the wheels turn.... a feeling of clearing, maybe, like tiny windshield wipers clearing out the small circles which somehow have been clogged. Maybe as if they’ve held some kind of moisture in thickened form, that should have gone through the body.

(With gentle irony:) No one told it that it was impossible to grow from a tiny cell — change that to a tiny organism instead of a cell — to a complicated adult structure. What tiny, spindly, threadlike, weak legs you all once had in your mother’s wombs! [...]

[...] Almost impossible to describe but it’s as if a million tiny things in my head were just off enough, so that the rest of the body didn’t work right, walk right; as if the body wasn’t synchronized and as if this afternoon it was fitting together again correctly; all the parts lining up or something. [...]

and cavort through tiny

[...] And if Ruburt has access to my reality and if my reality sings through him...then my vitality is but a hint of All That Is—and that tiny and insignificant echo of the reality of all that exists. [...]

[...] Jane said Florence could attempt “a tiny look within” and find out there’s nothing to be frightened of there either, and that she could give her intuitions free reign. [...]

Topside, those people see themselves as a tiny group crying in the wilderness, unrecognized, unheeded, prophets to whom no one will listen. [...]

[...] They are a tiny band of alienated, frightened people who strike out against anything they cannot understand. [...]

[...] On a vast scale the myriad points of light compared to the density in the electric field, on a very tiny scale.

Your field is contained within its own unique range of intensities, a tiny band of electrical impulses a million times smaller than any one note picked at random from the entire mass of musical composition that has been written, or ever will be written.

Neurologically, you tune into only a portion of your body’s reality and are ignorant of the great, tiny but tumultuous communications that are ever flying back and forth in the microscopic but vital cellular world.

Remind him that all his nature does indeed work to his benefit, and that signs of creative alterations and feeling begin to surface, like tiny shoots.

(“A mishmash, as of tiny crisscrossing wires.” [...] The object consists of small printed type which was folded several times; such an impression of tiny criss-crossings could occur to an entity with the ability to see through the layers of the object, so to speak, or to pick up the impressions resulting from layers. [...]

Give us a moment… A mishmash, as of tiny crisscrossing wires. [...]

[...] Then I saw a lot of little tiny men. [...]

[...] “They’re real tiny; they’re building what looks like scaffolds in the backs of both of my knees. [...]

[...] “I let the right leg out just a tiny bit more. [...]

[...] We seemed to catch tiny glimpses of ordinary events before they were fully formed, and to sense the motions of probabilities invisibly but clearly stirring in the over-heated summer air. [...]

Section 5: How to Journey Into the “Unknown” Reality: Tiny Steps and Giant Steps. [...]

(Dr K., being still concerned about Jane’s finger—which had improved somewhat, but was still markedly bluish in cast—decided to prescribe a drug to dilute the clotting ability of blood somewhat: Persantine, in tiny pill-like form, to be taken three times a day. [...] This at once set up barriers in our thinking, but especially in Jane’s. Jane had also learned that everyone at the hospital was against her smoking, and had been told that nicotine helped restrict the blood flow in the tiny capillaries. [...]

[...] I saw him coming in for a landing, tiny and green and apparently out of control. [...]

[...] I then felt my tiny friend, who by now seemed to be even smaller, buzzing and banging against my palms, trying to get out.

[...] It was a tiny part of “life.” [...]

This private probability
isn’t half bad
when you consider
the public worlds
we had to travel
to get here:
molecules waiting
in the wings,
looking for
the precise
time-space
to leap into,
tiny strands of
consciousness
reuniting
after centuries,
sorting out ourselves
from a million
other forms
we’ve taken part in—
reassembling
just those we wanted
to call Rob and Jane.

[...] As we did my eyes were so close to her face that I could see the tiny pores in the skin below her eyes — very fine and smooth. [...]

(Seth:) Just a tiny, tiny, distant love.