“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(This material was another instance of how Seth developed an idea in an original way. At first I wondered whether his A-1 state would merely repeat the alpha data given to us by Patty Middleton, but it soon developed that he was using alpha only as a takeoff point. Already he was well beyond it.

(Jane told me that had the session continued, Seth was going to say that Patty Middleton’s visit last week had been incipient from the time we met her in Philadelphia, in September, 1970. Seth knew there was a high probability that she would be here when he was working on the section of his book concerning stages of consciousness. [...]

(No session was held Monday, since Jane needed to rest. She was very sleepy and relaxed before the session this evening also, but she wanted to hold it. [...]

(This isn’t to say that Patty’s journey here was preordained. [...] She simply “picked up” that this was a good time to see us, and chose to make the trip. [...]

[...] Jane was dissociated as usual for a first delivery. She was aware of the gist of the material. [...]

(Jane has not yet resumed her study of psychological time, even though Seth said it was all right for her to begin again on a daily fifteen-minute basis. [...]

(Jane did not feel at all well before this evening’s session, and I was not at my best either. [...]

(The session was short. [...]

(9:56 P.M. As soon as she was out of trance I told Jane the session was an excellent one. I was also quite irritated, because Seth’s information had the ability to make things seem self-evident; from that point one was always left wondering how anything so basically clear and simple could be so easily missed and/or misinterpreted by those who most dearly wanted to put it to use. [...]

“As Floyd and I cut across the court I saw that the Brenner’s lawn was despoiled with a mixture of animal and industrial waste, like pollution. [...] At first shock I thought it was a deer that might have been killed by a car the night before, say. [...] Then to my amazement I saw that the supposed animal was actually the broken remnants of a hollow, life-sized metal statue of a deer that had stood for years in the front yard of a house on Harrison Street, in Sayre, at the other end of town. [...]

“It was hard to reduce my insight to words, but when I described it to Jane at our lunch table, she said it made sense to her. The insight was triggered by a remark she made while we were eating, as she read one of the letters I’d just picked up at the mailbox.

[...] The night was humid but not too warm. [...]

[...] First, while my eyes were closed I felt that the “area of darkness” they encompassed to the left and the right was abruptly and definitely wider. This sensation was brief, yet lasted long enough for me to be sure of it.

(So was the second impression, which came immediately after. [...] This new leg reached only to my knee but was complete with a foot and a knee as it stemmed from my hip. [...]

[...] Her pace was slow, her voice rather low and husky. She was rather sleepy from a nap, and began at 9:01.)

[...] Jane was dissociated as usual for a first monologue, meaning that she retained some idea of what she had been saying. [...]

[...] Ruburt was furious in the store, and felt abandoned. He was furious at himself however, not you, that he could not follow you quickly enough. He was angry at the salesgirl, whom he likes, for her remark about his weight, and he was sore at himself for being sore in body.

He became so aware of fear’s destructive energies that he panicked, thinking there was no way to keep fear away. It was quite beneficial that he spoke to you about the brief depression, for this helped relieve it, and your reassurances helped rouse his confidence.

The remark that you just made was the kind of a remark that put an impediment between the desired end and... (Here the pace was too fast for a couple of sentences. [...]

[...] It was caused by a fear of fear.

(I told her in turn, and believe she agreed, that all phases of our lives were changing, that it was vital that they do so, since the way of life we had worked out was doing so poorly. [...]

[...] Jane advanced to the point where she was able to translate some of this as we went along and the end product, in part, was some excellent poetry.

The new data emerging within your physical reality would have to appear in a way that was congruous with its surroundings, and adopt then some acceptable representation. To follow it back to its source however you would have to keep sight of it as it gradually was divested of these recognizable patterns. [...]

First of all, this evening’s small chat: it was a beginning. [...]

[...] It was taken in the summer of 1932, when Jane was 3 years old, and as far as we know it’s the only one of the Roberts family in existence. [...] In that session, Seth told us that the 12 year old Jane in the photo under discussion was to become probable to the one I eventually met and married.] Beside whatever Seth could tell us about her parents, I was curious to know whether the Jane who was shown at the age of 3 might be — or was destined to become — another probable Jane.⁶)

[...] The evening was very warm as we waited for tonight’s session to start. [...]

In usual circumstances you may remember the emotions that you felt at the time a picture of yourself was taken, and to some extent those emotions may show themselves in gestures or facial expression. [...]

[...] A photograph will show certain events natural to the time in which it was taken. [...]

[...] He had to show that he had psychic abilities, but that he was in control of them. He had to prove that he was a reasonable person. [...]

[...] Jane was scandalized and embarrassed by the reading. I was sorrowful and appalled. [...]

[...] He was tired of dealing with them. [...]

The decision to have the interview of itself meant that Ruburt was less afraid. [...]

[...] As I left the house, I was greeted in the driveway by Frank Longwell, who was checking up on whether I was watering the back yard and the new tree the way he told me to.

[...] It was good, almost still warm. [...] I did some mail until she told me she was ready for a session.)

(Frank left right away, but I was still late getting to the lawyer. [...]

[...] There was a thunderclap not far away. [...]

[...] The class dream I couldn’t remember was precisely just what you [Jane] were saying right now, and I did mention something this evening before class started that I just remembered. Seth was speaking. [...]

([Joel:] “A substitute instead of nondescript—what I was trying to say was rigidly defined. [...]

[...] And there was a time when you and Ruburt played in the rivers together as children. I did indeed say to this group it was a fairly good approximation of my manner. [...]

([Bette:] “If you kept it up, I was just going to forget the thought and then get up and grab it.”

[...] It has been fashionable in the past to believe that each species was oriented selfishly toward its own survival. [...] Each was seen in competition with all other species. In that framework cooperation was simply a by-product of a primary drive toward survival. [...] The motivating power was always projected outside* (underlined).

[...] The call was from out of town. [...] He had many questions — and was too impatient to finish the letter to Jane that he’d just started. His enthusiastic response was one we’d experienced many times before. [...]

(The atmosphere in our second-story living room was very pleasant and prosaic this evening. [...] Jane smoked a cigarette and sipped a beer as she waited for the session to start, she was in the process of turning her consciousness inward, actually, on her way to meet Seth in a nonphysical journey that had nothing to do with our ordinary concepts of space or distance.

(As is usually the case in our private sessions, Jane’s Seth voice was only a little deeper than her own regular one. Her Seth accent however, was quite unique. [...]

[...] Her material was presumably from Seth, although she would give it. Just as she began speaking she was interrupted by a heavy knocking — first at the door to the public hall that separates the two apartments we occupy on the second floor, then at each of the apartment doors themselves. [...] She was probably in her early 40’s. An expensive suitcase sat beside her.

[...] The wind had abated considerably, but the night was much colder. When I returned I was able to tell Jane that Barbara had made a decision. Tomorrow she was going to journey by airplane halfway across the country — to see another psychic who would surely be able to help her.

(Barbara insisted that she wanted help, but as in other cases that Jane and I have encountered, her focus upon her distress was so intense that we couldn’t breach it; certainly not in the little time available. [...] Barbara just couldn’t grasp that she was creating her own reality.

[...] (Jane was born on May 8, I was born on June 20. [...]

(The session was held in our back room. [...] Her voice was quiet, in contrast to last night’s noisy unscheduled session. Her pace was slow, with many pauses. It was another hot and humid night.)

[...] The material was returned today with a plain rejection slip. [...]

[...] This was returned to me a few days ago; I had written a paper company requesting samples. [...]

[...] Jane was dissociated as usual for a first delivery. [...]

[...] I finally realized that she didn’t really want to do such shows anymore, no matter whether the Sinful Self was involved or not. It came to me that this dilemma was the reason for her much worse hand and arm discomfort: She can barely hold the telephone now, and has much trouble typing. [...]

[...] Prentice-Hall was bound to be confused about our motives and intents, and also there was the latest evidence that the uncertainty or resistance would lead to aggravated symptoms on Jane’s part. [...]

(What particularly upset me about the flap over publicity was that I saw in it a repetition of past ways of refusing to meet challenges head on involved with the psychic work. [...] This was all behavior I still could not really comprehend.

[...] What he enjoyed, however, was the radio’s fairly secret quality—the fact that he was hidden, and yet his voice went out into the world. [...]

(End at 11:32 p.m. Jane was quickly out of an excellent dissociated state. [...] I was even wondering if my own attitude was holding the thing up now, after all of those other interruptions….” [...]

(The flood was the worst on record in this section of the country. [...] Agnes was preceded by days of heavy rain that extended on a broad front for hundreds of miles. [...]

(By now escape was probably impossible. [...] I was awed too, since the old steel bridge crossed the Chemung River less than half a block from us. [...]

[...] The weather was cold and rainy. [...] This book was put aside for a long time.

[...] Her brown hair was pulled back; she was sitting on a straight chair beside a small table, holding phone in left hand, wearing dungarees. [...] No lipstick; lips were parted as though she was caught in speech. [...]

Ruburt was correct. I was going to speak concerning the self and the so-called notself, so that we can clear up a few matters. [...]

[...] Jane was dissociated as usual. Jane felt that Seth was in one of his expansive and friendly moods, and would have continued but for the late hour. [...]

[...] The right hand held a club or truncheon; the right arm rose and fell regularly, although the rhythm was not rapid. I could not see what if anything the figure was striking. [...]

6. From her viewpoint my mother was, indeed, quite baffled when I turned away from a well-paying career in commercial art toward a very risky one in “fine art,” or painting. The year was 1953, and I’d just met Jane. My mother was 61 years old, I was 34, and Jane was 24. [...]

[...] It was determined to retain its own identity. [...]

[...] Figuratively, its image was appalled. [...]

[...] The spirit of each of the four islands was itself intact, and the interchanges were chosen. [...]

(11:06 p.m. Seth was gone before I finished writing, after referring to some other work that Jane and I are doing on our own. Jane said she was tired now.)

(Drawing in the air, Seth-Jane finished the list, then told me that I was to place a second one, with its own heading, opposite the first. [...]

[...] I felt oddly confused, since I wasn’t sure yet of what Seth was up to.)

[...] She was supposed to get the diagrams just right though, and it had been difficult to do.

[...] The night was very cold — it was still 6 below when I got up at 6:30 a.m., and only 12 above when I left for 330. [...]

[...] While she was eating a good lunch I thought of telling her the typewriter repair service had called this morning, citing a bill for $90.00 for the repair and a box of a dozen cartridges, but I forgot to mention it as we talked about other things. [...]

[...] She was interrupted by people taking her vitals — temperature 98.3 — and finished the session finally at 4:20, after resting from reading several times.

[...] I said I thought that maybe her impatience was meant to serve as an impetus to her healing speed. [...]

(Jane spent one of her worst nights yet last evening: “It was pretty shitty.” She slept very poorly and was continuously restless. [...]

[...] Last night’s session was in my mind, of course. [...]

(She was very glum and silent as she spent much time on the couch this afternoon and after supper. [...]

(Long pause.) It did not feel it was being given any satisfactory recognition, however. [...]