“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

“Not long after I closed my eyes I saw, almost in silhouette, a Roman soldier standing on the top of a square, crenelated tower that formed a corner or angle in a massive stone wall. My position was at ground level. I’d lost all sensation of my body lying on the cot. The scene was very faint, so much so that it might almost be called more of an idea than an image. The sky behind the soldier was darkly overcast; I was aware of very little color. I ‘knew’ that the tower I faced marked the southeastern corner of Jerusalem, and I ‘knew’ that the wall itself was an enormous fortification that had surrounded that ancient city sometime during the first half of the first century A.D.

“Now the scene changed, as one might change a slide in a projector. In another little drama, motionless like the first one, I saw my Roman soldier suspended in the act of falling from the tower. He had, in truth, been thrown off it, and I believe that he was either dead or mortally wounded from stab wounds. He had a bandage wrapped around the biceps of his left arm. Now I knew that a ‘task force’ of other Roman soldiers had carried out this assault, reaching ‘me’ by climbing the steps already described. I saw no sign of others on the tower, though. I kept this second image in mind for some time before allowing myself to realize that the victim fell amid a group of his fellows. One of them, I believe, ran a spear into the body.

“When I got up half an hour later I hurriedly typed the first version of this account. I also tried to capture the overcast mood of the entire episode in a couple of quick drawings done on typing paper with a ballpoint pen. First I drew my Roman soldier standing half-visible behind the squared crenelations on top of the tower; then I drew him falling, poised face up against the tower wall.⁶

“Rob: In one of my own ‘past-life’ memories, I was a guard or sentry on a tower like the one in your drawings. Or I was the sentry’s enemy, who came up the steps and attacked him. I was overcome and pushed off the tower, falling backwards in the position your drawing shows. It was night or semi-dark.”

(Peg and Bill note that if you substitute water tower for fountain, then everything else is correct, except that the date means nothing to them. Because of the water connection between water tower and fountain, this may be perfectly legitimate. 1461 means nothing, but we [Gallaghers] visited a water tower, circular, surrounded by flowers, we had to climb what is called the Queen’s staircase [steps] to get there. [...]

[...] This in turn had reminded me of my dream of months ago, when from the elevator tower of the hospital I’d looked out a window to see checks from the insurance company lying on the asphalt at the side of the left front wheel of the car. [...]

[...] And as for towering-strength Ruburt, don’t depend upon this too far, for a weaker tower of strength I have never seen.

(8:32; eventually a one-minute pause.) The symptoms have served to “allow you” a certain privacy, A certain detachment from the world, while at the same time providing a way of relating to others, of sharing life’s misfortunes so that it might not be said, for example, that as artists or people you lived in an ivory tower, untouched by life’s usual dilemmas. [...]

[...] In it Seth compared our idea of space travel to traveling from the basement of a building to the top floor; and for a building he used as an example the ancient Tower of Babel.)

Through Ruburt’s subconscious I picked up the old legend of the Tower of Babel, and yet this is precisely what you are attempting now in space travel. [...]

[...] No god in a giant ivory tower says, “This will happen February 15 at 8:05.” [...]

[...] No god in a giant ivory tower says ‘This will happen February 15 at 8:05.’; and if no god predicts, then I do not see the point of doing so myself.”

Were you born once in winter,
in Europe’s ice and snow,
when villages were dark at night
and wolves roamed the towering hills?
Or dark-skinned, did your swaddling cry
pierce Egypt’s early dawn?
How many birthdays come and gone,
how many homelands, each your own?
How many loves have whispered through
the patterns of your mind?
How many sons and daughters have grown
from your womb or loins?
What voices merge with mine
to wish you happy birthday,
and what loves within your past
lay out a feast of wine and cakes?

Now, there is a tower of strength—but it is not outside yourself, but within yourself. [...]

(9:15.) When in colonial times men and women traveled westward across the continent of North America, many of them took it on faith that the land did indeed continue beyond — for example — towering mountains. [...]

[...] You are me without my towering volcano, ignorant of the thundering magic of flowing lava, calm and rather stupid (emphatically), if the truth be known.”

I did not play the part of any towering personality of historical note, but became experienced in the homey and intimate details of daily life, the normal struggle for achievement, the need for love. [...]

[...] The next I knew, Larry was very angry with me; he stood right beside me and towered over me, yelling something about me being some kind of nut or dope, and that I needed a good punch.

[...] He needed your strength, and when you leave it up to him to act as the so-called tower of strength, you overtax him to some extent.

[...] Everything was correct, except that there was a water tower rather than a fountain.