“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] Again and again in the notes for Dreams I’ve indicated how Jane and I tried to understand the probable reality we’ve created. [...]

I think the main idea we’re trying to bring to consciousness as a species is that we’ve chosen to move beyond the limits of the ordinary, safe world we’ve always created. [...]

[...] She is still uncomfortable sitting—more so, even, and I fear that her flesh will break down from the constant pressure; I’ve seen what I interpret as signs of that happening.

[...] Jane’s and my hospital experiences have already become so involved that I’ve begun to think of describing them—and whatever they may develop into—in a series of chronologically ordered introductory essays for Dreams, instead of the more conventional introduction I’d been expecting to write. [...]

(11:25 P.M. “I just feel funny,” Jane said, “as if I’ve been where it was too smooth for my consciousness to get a grip on anything.” [...] “Yet I feel as though I’ve been doing things there — perceiving in a different way while Seth was giving the session.” [...]

[...] She’d taken many long pauses in delivering the material — a few of which I’ve indicated — but hadn’t been at all concerned about them while in trance. [...]

[...] I’ve thought of this several times myself lately.”)

[...] I’ve been conscious of this feeling of my own for some time, and have thought of mentioning it at times. [...]

(“Well, whatever it is,” Jane said with some desperation, “I’ve got to get over it …”

[...] I’ve always wondered about this. [...]

[...] “I’ve learned something this afternoon,” Jane said during a brief unannounced break. “I’ve thought of it before, but finally I’m getting it through my head that the sessions are much better when I don’t have any concern—and when I feel concern, I find it harder to get into it. [...]

(Rather often lately we’ve speculated about why most people don’t remember their dreams. [...]

[...] But I’ve got a couple of points to make....

[...] So I wonder how often I’ve missed out on some good stuff by doing it that way, especially when I even forget to tell him about it.”

[...] “I’ve got to look at you....”)

[...] “I’ve got to put myself out, like I did the other night,” she said at 9:28. [...]

[...] I’ve got to get up some—I know that—change position or something. [...]

[...] Then: “I’m safe here in the chair, but I’ve got to get back over there somehow.” [...]

[...] At this writing I think it’s been well over a year since I’ve heard that very complicated personality. [...]

(I’ve already cited Jane’s experience, as given in Chapter 17 of The Seth Material, showing that on rare occasions Seth Two and her feelings of massiveness can go together; but she can also be in an altered, massive state of consciousness without having a session, or she can be speaking for Seth. [...]

(Finally, the excerpt to follow from the 612th session is presented just as received, but I’ve updated some of the notes for it [beginning with Note 4] in order to take advantage of later material, including some published in Volume 1.)

[...] “I’ve got that massive feeling again,” she said finally, referring to Monday night’s session. [...]

[...] I’m using the entity name that Seth gave him, since his family doesn’t understand his interest in psychic phenomena—a situation we’ve encountered more than once. [...]

[...] “This is one of those suspicious signs that we’ve read about. [...]

[...] “I’ve got gumboils, but so what? [...]

[...] Seth was correct: I’ve enjoyed the classes, learned a great deal from them, and enlarged my own abilities as a result, in ways I didn’t know were possible.

[...] I’ve always known you were going to do the book. [...]

[...] We’ve known Georgia, Jane’s favorite nurse, ever since my wife entered the hospital in April, 1983.

[...] I’ve often thought of how weak our current theories are to explain what we see around us, or in the night sky.

This is the first time literally that we’ve tried for any physical effects since I’ve steered clear of that sort of thing. [...]

[...] Obviously we were trying for something—which is in itself suggestion, but on other times we’ve tried for example to get the table to move and it wouldn’t budge. [...]

[...] I’ve let answering any but immediate business mail go while Laurel and I worked on the manuscript for The Magical Approach.)

[...] I’ve learned that there will always be more to add to the collection.

I’m very fortunate that the help of all of those I’ve mentioned, and of others, too, is enabling me to keep the promise I made to Jane on her deathbed ten years ago, when she asked me to publish all of her work. [...]

[...] It seems certain that “something” happened “back then” (as I often remark) — and that if you could go back there, invisibly studying the century, you would discover the birth of Christianity (also as I’ve remarked, although I prefer to say that “I’d like to see what did happen”). [...]

(“No, I think you’ve covered the material very well.”)

[...] She had taken many long pauses during her delivery, a few of which I’ve indicated.

[...] A man who looks somewhat Lou Grant (television star Ed Asner) writes me a note saying that I’ve touched him as no other woman ever has. [...]

[...] Yet she roused herself: “I’ve got the first sentence, I guess.” [...]

[...] The chimes had been sent to us as a gift by fans we’ve never met.)

[...] I’ve tried to call her twice so far. [...]

[...] I was naked, saying, “I’ve lost my way,” to a girl, possibly a nurse, seated at a desk in a cavernous, vacant, rust-red old room. [...]

[...] I’ve especially begun to think this within the past year.”)

(“That’s what I’ve been trying to do.”)

I’ve experienced odd perceptions in relaxed states. [...]

(“I’ve slipped up there lately. But I’ve started my exercises again.”)

(“No, we’ve been pretty happy about the whole thing.”

[...] I’ve often wondered.”)

(“Oh, I’ve got lots of questions. [...]

[...] I’ve written my own longer notes explaining why I couldn’t find my account of the dream—I believe I simply forgot to write it down—but since I remembered it well I described the dream to Jane now. I plan to do a small oil painting or two of the sketch I’ve done of Mrs. Johnson, plus another image of her that I hadn’t drawn at the time, but retain well.

[...] Perhaps it’s all another reflection of that curious dichotomy I’ve often felt: One may rail against the world in general, and the behavior of its individuals in particular. [...]

[...] “I’ve just been wanting him to finish that chapter on the book. [...]

(Not long ago I reached an impasse with both the Introductory Notes and the Epilogue for Volume 2, as I tried to give order to the mass of notes, excerpts, and jotted-down ideas that I’ve assembled for them since finishing work on Volume 1 in September 1976. That was some 18 months ago, but actually to one degree or another I’ve been involved with “Unknown” Reality for four years now; I think that temporarily I’ve simply grown tired and overly concerned about the whole project, even while I still have a considerable way to go to finish certain notes and appendixes for Volume 2. Not that I haven’t worked on a number of other things at the same time, of course — but my labors on those two books represent the prolonged, intense focus I always search for in my creative life, and without which I feel incomplete. [...]

[...] I’ve suspected the same thing. [...]

(I’ve also thought for some time that there might be clues to Jane’s seeming dilemmas in reincarnation — which Seth hasn’t gone into at all. [...]

(But so fearful and reluctant are we to face or to grasp ideas about death that run counter to what we’ve been taught, that we’ll literally do almost anything to ourselves in order to prevent nature’s plan from working in its own natural and creative way. [...]