“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] Then I thought that I was wide awake, telling Rob about the dream. [...] Was I really awake, or was this a “false awakening as described by both Seth and Fox, and which I had experienced in the past? [...] It was difficult to imagine that I might really be asleep and dreaming, and not awake. Yet I’d gone to bed to experiment, I knew, and to make sure I decided to take it for granted that I really was dreaming, despite the semblance of normality.

[...] I was scared stiff; I’d bitten off quite a bit more than I could chew. At the moment I panicked, I was suddenly pulled backward through the air faster than I’d come, if that was possible. [...] This time, there was a strange, very loud noise, like the magnified twang of a rubber band or cable that seemed to be reeling me back in. [...]

One weekend afternoon, Rob was napping, and I was doing the dishes. [...] For a moment he just couldn’t understand what was happening. He knew that physically such a position was impossible, and he held his breath, waiting for the inevitable fall.

[...] This was not their normal house in daily life, though, and I was aware of this. Here I stood talking to Rob again, quite forgetting that he was at work. [...] Amazed, I told Rob to stand where he was, while I moved closer to the door to check my observations.

(This session was due yesterday but was not held. [...] Jane, John and I then journeyed to the home of the Gallaghers, where the session was to be held. [...]

[...] As soon as she opened the double envelope and saw the front of the object, Jane announced that the picture thereon was of a moose. [...] It was easy for us to agree that Jane saw a moose instead of an eagle because she wanted to. Intellectually she agreed that the drawing was of an eagle, but said that she saw a moose.

(While Jane was giving the envelope data I detected nothing out of the ordinary in her delivery. [...] The storm outside was the only one I was aware of.)

(At the end of the session she was still convinced the eagle looked like a moose, although she agreed it was actually an eagle because I said it was. [...]

(When I arrived at Jane’s room at 1 PM on Friday, I was quite surprised to learn that she was going home that afternoon. [...] The nurse, Joyce, who was head of the treatment for decubiti at the hospital spent a lot of time going over the proper treatment with us, and gave us a quantity of sterile water, Silvadene, sponges, saline solution, etc. We could tell she was enamored of her work and very sincere in all of her suggestions. Our own ideas were that treatment was all the better the simpler it was. [...]

[...] Dr K. saw her, and Dr. Wilwerth, who stayed only a few minutes and didn’t think a clot was involved. Dr. K. was fairly sure it was vasculitis, “which never gets better,” etc., from her point of view. Jane still felt the finger’s condition was the result of other muscular events in her body. [...] The nurses told us she’d called several times the night Jane was admitted, and that she had the reputation of being very caring and conscientious—qualities we can certainly admire and respect. [...]

(Tonight’s session started later than usual because of a mix-up in communications between us: I thought Jane was too groggy after supper as she sat at the card table in the living room, so I went to my room to work on the intro for Dreams—whereas she was waiting for me to come out and sit with her to see if we’d have some sort of session. Her impression was that we’d do this each night, so I must be wrong here. On Friday after she came home I’d said it was vital that we have sessions in order to try to find out just what events had triggered the whole event of her latest illness from the very beginning. [...] I was hoping for something on all of this, this evening. [...]

(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. [...] When Jane said that Dr. K had said her lungs were okay while she was at the Arnot, Dr K. defended that analysis by reminding Jane that she’d said her heart was good, but that through the stethoscope she’d heard various “wheezings and gurglings” in Jane’s lungs. [...]

(No session was planned. [...] During the evening we played some tapes also, and among these was one of the recordings Jane made of G. K. Chesterton’s poem Lepanto; Jane was in a trance state while reading this, apparently in a close approximation of the voice of her now dead friend, Father Trainor. Lepanto was Father Trainor’s favorite poem. [...]

[...] Jane was upset, so upset that at first she couldn’t let Seth through, even though she wanted to. [...] In view of earlier material I remembered, I thought the 67th- year information was a distortion, and that such a distortion was natural enough when one talked about one’s own passing. [...] The mother’s death has not yet occurred, Seth saying that the information was by way of allowing Jane to prepareherself for the shock of her mother’s death. [...]

(Jane has in her files a family record book going back to the mid 1800’s. Consulting this after the session we found that Seth was correct, that her grandfather had been 67 when he died March 12,1948. Jane was extremely attached to her grandfather; she grew up without a father since her parents separated when she was three years old, and her grandfather did his best to fill in the gap. [...] This material was the longest at the time, dealing with another personality in such a manner. [...]

[...] Subconsciously, Seth said, Jane was aware that the death of her grandfather, whom she had loved, was early next month, March. [...] Jane did not know this offhand consciously, Seth said, but had the records to prove it, and subconsciously was well aware of it.

(I was three years old when my parents made the month-long drive to California, and my brother Loren was two. [...] When I was drafted during the second World War I was given aptitude tests; to my surprise I did well on mechanical subjects, and ended up as an airplane mechanic and instrument specialist in the Air Transport Command.)

(The session again was held in our large front room, and was not interrupted. [...] Her pace was good, her voice average.)

(The car operated well the day after the garage repaired it, saying the trouble was moisture in the distributor. [...] To our surprise the second tow and repair were free, the service manager telling us there was corrosion on the coil connections, and that the mechanic should have noticed this and corrected it the first time the car was in the garage.

[...] The problem was to make it as minor as possible. It was therefore concentrated as corrosion on the coil, and this corrosion was not there when your garageman previously examined it.

At one time the personality was involved with very early paper manufacturing, in I believe Belgium. The personality was then a male. [...]

[...] This time there is on the part of the personality an awareness of inner realities, of which the personality was not before concerned with. There is also a bewilderment, since in the past communication was easy. [...]

[...] Jane was dissociated as usual. Lorraine told us that her first name was Meredith, and that her mother in naming her Meredith Lorraine intended to call her Mary Lou, but never did so. [...]

There was a village in the southern part of France. [...] The personality was a primitive mason. [...]

[...] Precisely at the time the strong symptoms began, the ESP book was slated for publication. You had received the cover, and the writing self was facing its own conflicts also: was the psychic work its natural fulfillment, or a disastrous side trip? [...] He was afraid it did not justify your love. [...]

[...] Nothing was his by rights. [...] While he lived in one house, still the home itself was always in jeopardy. His mother frequently told him that she would keep him only if he was good, that only Marie’s good graces kept the child from going to an asylum. [...]

Though this was true, the writing self for the first time began to question itself, its achievements, and the new field it had entered. [...] He had a right to it because he was a writer, not because he was himself.

[...] If you were ever tempted, particularly in earlier times, to isolate yourself to an unhealthy degree, Ruburt was precisely your insurance. [...] He was also your own insurance against being swallowed by your own parents, and he saved you from that possibility, which was present.

[...] In the years between there was some considerable improvement in balance. When the situations developed which we have discussed, setting off the old conflicts, again you see, then the discipline idea was short-circuited back to the old compulsive behavior, though in different form, and with the old religious connotation of self-denial. The old fear of spontaneity returned, and the methodical attempt to deny subconscious impulses; the old feeling of unworthiness was also activated, and the body duly denied. Now this self-denial began in the Catholic home, and he was peculiarly prone to accept it. It was part of the old Catholic training, and he fell for it under a new guise. (Jane spent over a year in such a home while her mother was hospitalized for arthritis.)

[...] For various reasons, not necessary in this discussion, the tendency was carried over with Ruburt’s first husband. [...] He was constantly told to slow down, to use discipline, and this reinforced the fear that what he was, was fearful, powerful, evil, and best hidden.

The impetus behind the compulsive activity was fear, and the fear was directed against the mother. The compulsive behavior was also intermixed with religious connotations, the crucifix and rosary being part of the objects used at times. [...]

The compulsive behavior gave him a safe circle in which to operate, but it was a small circle. It was meant to keep harmful influences out, but it was also meant to keep harmful influences in.

When he was spontaneous, it seemed, you did (underlined) disapprove. At the time that session was given (367th) those elements were paramount. It was because of his great love for you and his knowledge of your great love for him, that your disapproval, by contrast, was (underlined) so chilling.

He felt—this is an answer to another question—that there was a veiled threat involved in my remark that I would not be dispensed with. There was none. [...] He was never in danger of any severe emotional or mental difficulties. [...]

Intuitively the personality knew its abilities also, so there was the creative urge to develop and grow. [...] His desire to forge ahead philosophically beyond any school or church also was involved, and his artistic endeavors—which bloom in my books, now, as well as in his own work.

[...] You would not accept him as he was unless he was perfect. [...]

Dream 2—Don’t recall the beginning but it was in a huge amphitheater and there was a picture in great color on a giant screen to the left. After though, Pat Norelli (I think it was her, though she didn’t look like Pat particularly) myself and two young men were climbing along a high ledge toward the top of the gigantic theater. [...] Pat went on along the ledge to where it met the front wall but I was frightened of falling and stayed where I was with the young man who was my companion, When Pat reached that point, the young man who was her companion did something.... [...] that now I’ve forgotten because the stage looked somewhat like an altar, and she was saved from falling, and deposited on the stage, she stood in the center, wearing slacks and a blouse, arms out, waving at the people. [...]

Dream 1—I was looking at some weird contraption, maybe mechanical, that my father had made, to leave me some money after his death; money was supposed to come out of it. A nice old man, sort of a kindly bum, came by and told me father had made it two hours before his death so that I’d have some inheritance; and the old man might have had a key that worked it; I’m not sure; but there was something about a key.... [...]

The date was changed time and again. [...] On the other hand, he was angry at the delays. Added to this was what he felt to be the need to find employment, and the hope that his writing could be his livelihood. [...]

[...] There was a time travel here, but it was into a probable past. You knew that this was a reality in which you had not participated. [...]

He felt that the dream book had let him down when it was rejected. [...] He recalls a photo of his mother in the backyard when he was about seven. [...]

[...] His mother was superstitiously afraid of cats and in the incident in his bedroom an immediate identification was set up, under emotional stress and because of past feelings.

[...] While there was no specific point of entry as far as human consciousness was concerned, there was a point before which human consciousness as such did not exist. [...] The consciousness of being human in your terms was fully developed in the caveman, but—and I cannot emphasize this enough—the human conception was alive in the fish.

(Through this session Jane’s voice was rather stronger and a bit deeper than usual. Her eyes darkened as usual, her pacing was slow. She later told me that at the beginning she was very nervous, since this was her first time before a witness. [...]

This evening however was different. [...] Ruburt was dubious about a session with company present. However he was willing to listen to me irregardless, and I must admit that in no way do I understand your cutting me off in such a brusque manner.

He was in a different position when he was a woman, and if I may give away secrets, he was beaten by one pigheaded husband who had a snout to match.

[...] First, I was aware that I felt as if body had dissolved below chest; but then thought that it really might have. [...] I know this is silly, but felt scared that if lower part of body was dissolved; and all that was left was chest and shoulder and head region, then I would just fall down; a chest, shoulders, and head on street. Didn’t think I was going to do this; but the image popped into my head. [...] Noticed that it seemed that I was floating by...rather than walking. [...]

[...] I was laying straight in bed, arms at my sides. Without warning I felt as if the bed was disappearing beneath my hands, as sand will shift away, leaving pockets of nothingness there, that kept enlarging. [...] A few minutes later, this is most difficult to describe, I felt a quick definite and physical whoosh outward as if I was suddenly shooting or rushing out through my head, longwise—strong frightening sense of motion and being completely carried away. [...] whatever it was, at least I think I did.

(Then I was angry because I had been frightened but was still cautious and didn’t want to get in over my head. Told myself then that I could travel anyplace safely and return safely but that I would go slowly; that I was safe and confident and would welcome such a valid experience. [...] Felt some resistance [on chest?] against rising, but decided it was not wise to experiment beyond normal time limit, and got up.

[...] I do not know why on this particular occasion his car was parked as it was; perhaps because another car had temporarily taken his regular place, then left later. [...] Going downstairs after breakfast, I saw the car was gone, which meant my neighbor had moved it considerably earlier than is usually his habit, since he leaves for work sometime after I do.

[...] The whole psychic development can and should, and was meant, to provide exactly what was needed, and its timing was no accident.

Then, the strong conflict between the ego and subconscious was the result of home environment. [...] This denied, his normal spontaneity exploded when it was allowed opportunity, sometimes in unfortunate circumstances. [...] He was not capable of loving Zeh or anyone, later. [...]

[...] Jane was aware of what she was saying; she called it a devastating psychological analysis and intuitively felt that is was correct.

This trick was this: it pretended to accept the psychic nature as part of itself and began a campaign ostensibly aimed at living up to its image, of adapting it. [...] They were, it said, everything that Ruburt was not. [...]

(We’d thought that Seth might refer to them in the session for last Monday, but none was held because once again Jane was so relaxed on the couch after supper. She was also somewhat blue and discouraged. In fact, I hadn’t expected a session tonight until she called me at 8:40, so relaxed was she. [...]

Ruburt did initiate a small religious order in the 16th Century, in France, and he was in love for many years with the man he met in his dream—a cleric. The love was not consummated, but it was passionate and enduring nonetheless on both of their parts. [...]

(She was very quiet as session time approached, but wasn’t too comfortable in her chair. I was quiet too—we’d been more or less that way all day. [...]

The church was quite real to Ruburt as a child, through the priests who came [to the house] regularly, through direct contact with the religious [grade] school, and the support offered to the family. [...] Many of those fears originated long before the sessions, of course, and before he realized that there was any alternative at all between, say, conventional religious beliefs and complete disbelief in any nature of divinity. [...]

(Next, Jane said she was trying to find a radio and recorder here at our hill house in Elmira so that Sue Watkins, who lives an hour’s drive to the north, could borrow it. While searching she suddenly found a lot of cubbyholes filled with trinkets that she knew were all hers, and she was very pleased at this knowledge. “Then the rest of the time I was involved with recorders.” She found herself inside something like a boxcar that was also the inside chassis of a cassette-playing machine. [...] “It was fantastic.” [...]

(It was very cold last night, and at 6:30 this morning it was still 5 degrees below zero. When I left for 330 this noon the temperature was barely 10 above. [...]

(Then she found herself in a tub of warm water, and she was filled with sexual sensual feelings, especially in the vaginal area. “I suddenly realized I was hallucinating the water and stuff, that I was really in my hospital bed. [...]

(4:38 p.m. I was a bit surprised at the ending of the session at that point, I told Jane, because I’d been still waiting for Seth to answer the part of my question dealing with her being inside a recorder. Jane was surprised also — since she hadn’t heard me ask that part of the question. [...] I told Jane that obviously the recorder was a communication device of a kind, so the connection may lie there.

[...] Once again he went into the reasons why it was possible for Bill Macdonnel to see Seth’s apparition during the 68th session for July 6,1964. [...] The gist of tonight’s material on this subject was that Bill allowed his intuitions enough freedom so that he was able to see the apparition for over an hour and to make several drawings of it; by the same token Jane and I were unable to see the apparition because we tried to intellectualize it. [...] We believe this was another form of apparition. [...]

[...] This is the tape containing the strong voice effects and was recorded for Dr. Instream. It was made with the Gallaghers as witnesses. [...] Playing the tape was an attempt to answer some of their questions, and in this Jane and I were following Seth’s advice of the 246th session. [...]

[...] In fact, the session was cut short by Jane’s illness. A long break was taken after the first delivery; Jane’s voice was good, her points very emphatic, and her eyes wide open some of the time as she answered questions. [...]

(Shortly after this, while I was in the studio with Marilyn and Ann, I was informed that Jane was being physically sick in the kitchen. [...]

(The swelling on her shoulder was up again, but I noticed there was no drainage at all from her knee, nor was there for the rest of the afternoon. [...] When she was finished with all of this she asked me what I thought. [...] If she wanted to die that was it. [...] I decided — again — that I was through worrying about whether she’d live or die, or whether she was starving herself to death, or whatever.

(Her talk veered around to the fact that once again she said she was thinking of dying — in her sleep, maybe — in order to get some peace of mind, and to give me some. [...] She also said she was surprised her life was ending at such an early age. [...]

(She’d kept her body down for years, I said, and now when it moved she hurt and complained, even though presumably the motion was what she wanted. [...] She was in a lot of pain, though, and I rang for the Darvoset again, since the staff was late with it.

(Jane was both surprised and pleased at the unexpected discovery of motion. [...] Even I was surprised to feel it move beneath my hand — that it could still do so after being held in that position for many months, following the fracture of the knee. [...]

(It was a colder, very windy night here. [...] Jane’s voice was average, so this meant that often I had to ask her to repeat a phrase because the various noises almost drowned it out. She said later that she was in an altered state of consciousness. She knew what she was saying and remembered some of it. [...] Her pace didn’t exceed my writing speed, but often it was close to the limits. [...]

[...] I did not think Ruburt would work unless he was chained to his chair, so I chained him, both to do his own work and force you to do yours. [...] I can say however that for some time I did not care if he was, if these purposes were met. I see now that they would not be, that instead all your time would be spent concentrating upon the condition that was meant as a protection, until no work was done—hence my dismay. I was not appreciated, though I did my best for you.

(She said she thought Seth was trying an experiment, that it was better to do it this way. She could feel Seth about, but he was letting her go ahead on her own.)

[...] Part of me was born in Ruburt’s childhood. This part was strengthened by your own ideas of work and creativity. [...] I relied on you to see that Ruburt’s creativity was channeled and used, protected, but most of all not frittered away.

(I found the whole funeral experience quite interesting, though I understood little of what was going on. [...] The room was very impressive, with its beamed ceiling. I thought the timeless quality, of light and so forth, inside the large room where the casket lay was more than a little symbolic in itself, isolated as the room was from the apparent time of day, night, or season.

(This morning I was dressed to go to Joe Bumbalo’s funeral by 9:15. I didn’t feel like hanging around the house until 9:45 — the service was at 10:00 — so I told Margaret Bumbalo I’d run down to the hospital to see Jane first, then walk over. Jane was better, surprised to see me, trying to decide whether to go to hydro [she didn’t].

(It was all part of the ritual, Jane said later as we went over the booklet together in 330. Only now she was surprised to see that it was printed all in English. [...]

[...] Their commitment was for life, I thought, and so was bound to be different than most other people’s. I wondered how often they went through roughly the same procedures with the dead, and speculated about how their sincerity and love must have stood them in good stead at such often-repeated times. [...]