“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(We took our Christmas tree down today, after enjoying it through the holidays. [...]

[...] She then seemed to project—she felt that she was hovering in the air over the Glen campground, which we know so well, and that she was looking down at the darkening green trees as they would appear at the present time—at about dusk.

[...] I have it in my head that there is a physical reality somewhere where objects have shape and form—where there are things like trees and people and streetcars and a strange thing called progress. [...]

[...] Truths are not trees that you discover in the forest. [...]

It is obvious that the body grows up about the inner self, and that trees grow out of the ground, whereas buildings do not spring up like flowers of their own accord; so the inner self has various methods of creation and uses the EE units in different ways, as you shall see as we continue with the discussion.

[...] You are like two limbs from the same tree. [...]

[...] You should have known that you could not escape my ceremony—and my ceremony is a ceremony of the skies and trees—and even of the grass. [...]

[...] Acorns do not grow into trees. [...]

[...] In this constant questioning about descendants, we wanted to get enough information for Jane to be able to ask her father some questions about his family tree; Jane knows nothing about it, and her father has not discussed it with her. [...]

[...] The falling tree incident is what I am referring to, and often there is such a completed circle when the outer senses will return you to inner data.

[...] That is, not only would you be able to feel the air though you were not out in it, not only would you pick up the odors, though ordinarily you cannot do this while you look out through closed windows, but you would literally feel the unitary essences of the trees and branches and hidden birds and insects. [...]

[...] It is born and nurtured in those feelings of peace, joy and contentment that he experiences watching his oak tree. [...]

[...] Since dreams are a by-product of any consciousness involved within matter, this leads us to the correct conclusion — that trees have their dreams, that all physical matter, being formed about individualized units of consciousness of varying degrees, also participates in the involuntary construction of the dream universe.”

You must look within yourself then, for in the last analysis the beginning and the source of creativity and being reside in each individual consciousness, in the same way that each tree contains its own seed. [...]

[...] It is like saying you wish a tree was a violet, or vice-versa. [...]

Tell him that he produces books as naturally as a tree produces leaves. [...]

[...] You cannot, for instance, kill the tree that may be depicted in the picture.

I also described to our guests the great Seckel pear tree that had grown so beautifully in the back yard, with some of its branches—and fruit— within my reach from the windows of the studio. It must have died years ago, as did its companion, the apple tree I had drawn to illustrate Jane’s poem, “The You-ness of the Universe,” in her book of poems, Dialogues of the Soul and Mortal Self in Time (1975). [...]

[...] A mutual friend sent us photographs of the big old red-brick building, three stories high, shuttered and dark and deserted among the trees and in the snow.

[...] She painted a tree rising out of the earth with brilliantly colored apples, for example. [...]

[...] The trees and bushes around the house are taller and more luxurious than ever. [...]

[...] He took the part of a tree, a brook, a rock. [...]

[...] She hallucinated a tree and other objects as I worked on these notes. [...]

In one of our earliest sessions I told you that trees have consciousness, and that consciousness resided within all things, as the plants within this room to some extent are aware of you, and the happenings here, can sense strangers, and can strongly sense emotional and psychic atmospheres, to which they do indeed react. [...]

[...] A sign lit up in the center of a palm tree out front. [...]

[...] He could point to a tree and grunt, but there wasn’t anything in a dream he could point to. [...]