“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Besides normal reasons (Jane dictates:) he was psychically inclined, at a time when Jane was young and herself close to a past life. [...] In his solitary nature he came close to being a mystic but he was unable to relate his personality as Joseph Burdo with the social world at large, or even to the other members of his family. There was a block, regrettably. [...]

He responded to his own attraction for her and was able to expand in her direction because she was not an adult. He was essentially childlike in one manner and yet he had little use for most people. [...] Jane was 19.) He could not relate to another adult, and when in his eyes she joined the league of adulthood he would not have been able to retain his strong leaning toward her.

[...] When Rob finished work in his studio at around nine, I told him about the experiment which was unsuccessful as far as I was concerned. I mentioned that the experiment was fascinating because of the natural effects of reflection, etc., and as far as I know I was myself at this time.

(I felt as if I were heading into a very deep trance state of some sort, which I was fighting off. And yet I thought that I was supposed to be experimenting, and was tempted to go along with it. [...] While I stopped myself from going into a deeper state, I wasn’t able to snap out of what I was in.

[...] This is most interesting, John said, because of the fact that the Sheraton-Hilton was very stuffy during the three nights he was there. Indeed, John said, it was so stuffy at night particularly that he had trouble sleeping, and was out of bed several times.

[...] The first try was the best. Bill was unable to open his eyes and developed good amnesia in his left hand, these being the tests Jane used to show him something about the trance state. However he was not able to speak during either session, and came out of the state both times when Jane asked him to answer questions. [...]

[...] The experiment was not planned. Peggy has been hypnotized twice—one of these times by Dr. Milton Erickson—but this was Bill’s first experience. [...]

(I was somewhat dubious about Jane’s hypnosis attempts since we haven’t had time to do much work in this direction lately. [...] I didn’t think Bill could be easily hypnotized, but he was quite pleased with his results for a first attempt. [...]

[...] The day was very warm—almost 65 degrees—and sunny, the room was hot with the curtains closed, although both windows were open and the fan was on in the air conditioner/register. [...]

[...] Like Rembrandt had, I was painting portraits and full-figure compositions on very large canvases—even over ten feet square, say. [...] I’d broken free and was now enjoying marvelous and penetrating creativity. At last I knew what it was like to be a great painter, and I loved it. [...]

(In the second part of the dream, I was confronting the youngish director of a funeral parlor—this after I’d made my exciting breakthrough into complete mastery and control, yet freedom, as an artist. The dark-haired young man was trying to talk me into displaying some of my smaller paintings in the room in his funeral home where guests were seated for viewings, etc. I was very skeptical. [...]

[...] By now Jane was starting to utter cries and to breathe quite heavily as she moved. [...] Her face was often screwed up into a knot. [...]

He was never afraid of me. He was afraid for portions of himself, for reasons having little to do with me, per se. (Pause.) The spontaneous self he was afraid of. [...]

[...] The purpose of the discussion was to unearth any reasons for the symptoms that we hadn’t touched upon, and we struck pay dirt here. [...]

This was not the whole problem. [...]

Ruburt was strongly committed to the sessions on the one hand, and highly skeptical on the other. [...]

(Our discussion at break concerned several other points I thought readers might be interested in: One was the zealot designation Seth applied to Paul. At first I’d thought he was going to say there was a connection between Paul, or Saul, and the Zealots, one of the religious sects the Jewish people had been divided into in Judaea in the first century A.D. The Holy Land was occupied by the Romans then, and Paul was a Jew and a Roman citizen. [...]

(Jane preferred that Seth simply start in where he had left off on the chapter — a feat I was sure he was quite capable of. [...] She was somewhat nervous because of the break in dictation, in spite of my reassurances. She was strongly interested in seeing that Seth finished his book, although she still has to read most of it.

(“The entity was born once as John the Baptist, and then he was born in two other forms. [...] There was constant communication between these three portions of one entity, though they were born and buried at different dates. The race called up these personalities from its own psychic bank, from the pool of individualized consciousness that was available to it.”

The man, historically now, was Paul or Saul. It was given to him to set up a framework. But it was to be a framework of ideas, not of regulations; of men, not of groups. [...]

Framework 2 was involved, and so was the chair and so was Frank’s return. In the back of your mind you questioned whether giving him a new, more comfortable chair to work in was or was not a smart thing to do: would it encourage him to retreat to his room and his writing, and simply serve to intensify old conditions? Frank, who was away, had returned, and would visit that day. [...]

[...] Your fear was definite, and your uncertainty was next. You were quite aware of the fact, unconsciously, that Wanda’s employer was in fact not going to work out. [...]

[...] Frank, who was expected at noon, did not come until later, because unconsciously he was also aware that something of that nature was occurring. [...]

[...] Since I’d been thinking of Wanda rather strongly last week, wondering whether the doctor in question could help Jane and her eye condition, I took our meeting as a clear case of the workings of Framework 2. On impulse I asked Wanda if she could arrange an appointment for Jane, and was surprised to hear that it could be set up for next Monday. Wanda was to call that afternoon and give Jane a time.

I was the guide he was searching for, and they were looking for me, though they did not know my name. This was a clearing place for personalities leaving the physical plane. [...] They realized that Ruburt was still physical. This is why he was told he could travel no further. He was afraid momentarily there would be no physical world to return to—simply his personal reaction. [...]

[...] The image of the woman was indeed himself in future years, signifying to the others that he was a wanderer and should go back. [...] He was therefore sent back to the woman in the first office.

[...] He saw the two of you as Italian because this was the most earthy type he could think of. (Humorously.) Your image however was as you will be at one time in your future. The beard was legitimate—you were simply older.

This was the knowledge that the woman had of Ruburt’s past life. [...] (Pause.) This obviously was the second dream.

[...] Suddenly I realized that I was hearing voices, but they seemed to come from inside my head. [...] I was certain that I was still awake. [...] I felt as if a radio was turned on full volume in my head, but with stations scrambled — for I could make no sense out of what was said. [...]

Everything was normal. The morning was still dark and dismal, the gray light of outdoors visible through the blinds. [...] Then I realized that a transistor radio was blaring from the bedside table. [...] Then I “remembered” that there was another radio in Rob’s studio. [...] There was the radio. [...]

[...] If I was dreaming then the apartments would disappear when I awakened. [...] It was our yard. The environment was brilliantly clear. [...] I was out of my body. My body was in bed.

[...] As it did, I asked, ‘Seth, will I ever understand this?’ The answer was lost except that I felt that the ‘new knowledge’ received in the lecture I could not hear was healing me and that as a wife and mother I was freer than I ever was before.

[...] This was difficult for her to explain, she said; as though “they” were trying as best they could to explain what they really meant, and all she ended up with was joy. Also “struggle” was involved. The cone effect was her attempt to receive this data. [...] She wasn’t worried but it was a weird state of consciousness. At the end of the session she was aware of a radio playing downstairs.)

(Again tonight the voice was clear, somewhat distant, and higher pitched than Jane’s usual voice. The voice was not faint however, and if anything was a bit stronger tonight than previously. [...]

[...] His appearance was abrupt, although expected, and as usual was forthright, strong in comparison with that of his entity, and very emphatic and humorous. Jane’s eyes opened often and she was very animated. [...]

(The result here, Jane said, was that she wanted to end the session, but couldn’t get her own voice back, and “nobody helped her out.” This was when I sat waiting to see what developed. As it happened, I was about to end the session when Seth spoke again and suggested that we do so.

(Lorraine Shafer was a witness for the session. [...] The session was held in our front room, and was not interrupted. [...] Her voice was quiet for the most part. [...]

With all due respects to Ruburt, he was right in one respect and wrong in another. The porch to the front was shadowed. He correctly picked up the leaf images; however it was not the first floor. The door was in the center. [...]

(This afternoon Jane called her publisher, Frederick Fell, and was pleased to learn that he liked her ESP book very much. [...] Jane was also curious to hear Mr. Fell’s voice, to see what impressions she might pick up.

[...] A man may dream of a childhood experience in which he was bitten by a dog. Another man who was also bitten by a dog, may then for example telepathically pick up the original dream. [...]

The first was Saturday night, March 14: We’d watched The Gangster Chronicles on TV that evening, about the Mafia. The experience seemed to last all night gradually deepening in intensity, without overt dramatic story line — there was material on the Mafia in its relationship to family and particularly in connection with women—this seemed to be the focus point. I guess the idea was that males operate as a Mafia regardless of gangster connections.... there was a lot on this; I’d half wake up, very sore; half crying.... [...] There was also some material on my mother.... [...]

[...] I imagined the different ways magazines like The National Enquirer could trick someone into giving an interview to start with, and turn people against each other, (Carol Burnett is suing that paper—the story was in the news lately.) From there some wild stuff that doesn’t make sense now, with strange things happening to my chair pillow as I sat on it.... not at all sure but the idea was that unpredictable unpleasant things could happen I suppose to “knock you off your ass.” [...] I also half knew that the entire affair was exaggerated.... [...] The affair reminded me of an incident when I was a kid, in science class, as a freshman in high school. [...] This was the same class in which I took the church’s stand against evolution to my teacher’s disgust.... [...]

[...] That one habit and no other was to be changed. It was difficult for him. He struggled, for example, against the old ingrained pattern, to get himself up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, or to stop what he was doing in the day, to go every hour, yet he did so. [...] This was important, and helped strengthen the entire affair.

[...] The importance of the bathroom issue was your belief, jointly—and almost overnight that belief, small as it was, was almost completely changed.

This was important, because it showed that he could change, and removed physical fears he had, for example about his kidneys—but more important, because you zeroed in on an area in which change was possible.

[...] Ruburt was to go to the bathroom, period. He did not have to walk straighter or faster—the getting there, or the destination, regardless of the method, was stressed.

[...] As far as Ruburt’s physical condition is concerned this was the pattern, as once or twice I believe he mentioned, by the way. [...] However, the pattern was thusly: in rhythmic patterns of activity, the entire body, part by part, stretched itself from head to toe. This was done in the body’s own order. It was obvious to both of you, I believe, that at times Ruburt would stand a good deal taller. [...]

[...] Ruburt was given what he wanted—the psychological stimulation of a friend, who was all ready to visit you because Ruburt’s message had gotten through. [...] Even then Ruburt was tempted to have Wade come, but his own disapproval, and yours, made it obvious that to do so would certainly be a copout. His body was not ready.

[...] He obeyed the impulse, which was excellent. The other bodily messages were as valid, and there was no need to take it for granted, as both of you did, that some element in Ruburt’s personality was rebelliously and purposefully sabotaging you at that time.

[...] At that point he immediately took it for granted, with a rush of self-disapproval, that this was a sign that he had learned nothing, and that his body was objecting to the whole idea of going out, and therefore challenging him—in other words, that his negative beliefs had risen to challenge new healthier attitudes.

[...] She was uncomfortable and wanted aspirin. [...] What was going on, I asked? Here Jean Reome was out with a bad back, Shirley was out with a bad arm, Susie was going to be operated on for a defective kneecap, and Georgia had to have a tumor removed and a hysterectomy.... [...]

[...] I was getting ready to leave when I asked Jane if she wanted Seth to return and talk about her discomfort with gas, which was persisting. [...] Her Seth voice was strong if subdued. [...]

[...] The day was warm—55 degrees—and very bright. She hadn’t had any aspirin or Darvoset since before going to hydro, and was now quite willing to get some aspirin as soon as the lunch tray arrived with some milk. [...]

[...] This was her best effort yet: she marched right along in a perfectly normal way. I was quite impressed—another best for the body. [...]

The idea of the drugs was helpful, in that it initiated the idea that improvement was possible. [...] That was the important issue, rearousing your own hope, so the affair was not for nothing. [...]

[...] She was quite uncomfortable on her side, as I tried to help her relax. I told her I was on the point of taking a nap. since it was getting toward the supper tray at 4:45 to 5:00. [...]

[...] Now it was obvious that the involved, even torturous journey involving drugs was a way of arriving at that simple yet profound inner truth. All we had to do was to see it. [...]

[...] All of these events coming together within just a few hours was really more than a “coincidence,” I thought. I was certain of it. [...]

[...] It was most exhilarating. I dreamed I was jogging along a country road beside the Chemung River on the way toward Sayre. The road was similar to the old river road we used to drive. [...] I was amazed and delighted at the smooth, effortless way my body was performing as I ran, especially for one my age. [...]

[...] A gal took Jane’s temperature, and it was again at 100. [...] I felt sure the temperature was connected to the session for February 1, though I couldn’t say why.

(The day was again warm — 42 — when I left for 330 at noon. [...]

(I knew I’d been imprisoned, and that I was now free. [...]

[...] Poverty was their penance, and it was considered a sacrilege to try to help those whom God had so cursed. [...] Compassion for living things in males was regarded as a weakness to be plucked out, to a degree that you can barely realize now. [...]

[...] Not only was charity not given, its practical nature was not considered. [...]

[...] Man was not allowed to play with the more dangerous toys until certain evidence was given that he had gained some control.

[...] Now the energy alone was exhilarating. For the first time many of the participators realized intuitively that such energy was also the source of creativity. [...]

He would purposely choose occasions in which dancing, to begin with, was at least not the thing—when no one else was dancing, when an ordinary person might have inhibitions against it. The very challenge was made because it, the challenge, aroused him to action in a situation in which he felt your natural inhibitions would meet up against his denied spontaneity.

The idea of cutting down stimuli and concentrating on work was quite agreeable to both of you for some time, far beyond the time you think it was. (Pause.) You then had to do many of the chores, and go out into the world, in you must admit a small fashion, but Ruburt was afraid that otherwise you would retreat.

[...] That failure was also meant to take your mind away from what he believed you believed was your own failure as an artist.

With others and strangers coming here, the symptoms put you, he believed, in a position of prominence, obviously the head of the family, having to take care of the frail woman—to compensate for the fact that he was financially making more. In this regard the illness was almost a gesture of defiance against any who would put you down.

[...] I dreamed that I was a woman of indeterminate age, perhaps around 50, and that in some way I was trying to improve, or wanted others to improve with me. [...] My father was in the dream with me as I knew him in “real” life, and oddly enough he was about the same age as I was in the dream. Sayre was the location, I knew. Anyhow, he used a phrase that I remembered when I woke up: “I live in a brown-paper-bag part of town,” meaning a lower middle-class neighborhood; he implied that that was his station in life, and that he had no idea of trying to change it, or felt that he couldn’t. In the dream I wore a brown faded coat and perhaps a small matching hat. I had straight brownish hair and was rather slim. [...]

[...] It was snowing slightly. I was in the front of the apartment doing the weekly housecleaning. Rob’s mind was on some innocuous chore, now forgotten; he may have been applying gesso ground to a series of panels to be used for paintings. [...] Although it was not exteriorized, it was clear in detail and very vivid. Like other experiences of this nature, it was intrusive, in that it seemed to have no connection with what he was doing or thinking at the time.

In the next session, Seth told Rob that he was doing well and should try the exercise often. The session, the twenty-second, was one of our first spontaneous sessions. [...] Two sessions a week were more than sufficient, I thought — I was afraid of going into trance at the drop of a hat.)

[...] It was not yet quite dark. There were voices and footsteps in the hall, Rob told me later, but I was not bothered at all. In fact, quite without knowing it, I was pacing about, talking as Seth, carrying an unlit cigarette. [...]

[...] For one thing, since it was spontaneous rather than planned, I hadn’t been at all nervous. [...] This feeling was directed at me as well as at Rob, which meant that it wasn’t coming from me. After the session was over, it seemed to follow me out into the kitchen while I finished the dishes.