“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] Sharon Poley walked in to take Jane’s temperature [98 degrees]; she came in without knocking while Jane was speaking for Seth in a voice deeper and stronger than her regular voice. Jane spoke Seth’s last few words while Sharon was at the foot of the bed, then broke off as soon as she saw Sharon. Sharon didn’t give any sign that she noticed or heard anything unusual—and looking at Jane, one couldn’t tell that she was in trance. [...]

[...] Her right foot was flexing as the left one had been earlier. She said she was beginning to sense a rhythm to the sessions in the afternoon. She also remarked that if I was present in the evening she could do more.... [...]

(Then at 4:14 she began rotating her arms and hands faster than ever—the best yet—it was obvious that her elbows were loosening up even more. [...] Now there was a lot of movement in the feet and ankles. [...]

(It was painful for Jane to be turned today. [...]

In the light of this discussion, now, that self was as unrealistic at its end of the spectrum as the Sinful Self was at the other, for Ruburt felt that he was supposed to demonstrate a certain kind of superhuman feat, not only managing on occasion to uncover glimpses of man’s greater abilities, but to demonstrate these competently at the drop of a hat, willingly at the request of others. At the same time he believed he was the Sinful Self, and that expression was highly dangerous—so between those two frameworks, the psychological organization, he operated as best he could, still seeking toward the natural value fulfillment that was his natural heritage. [...]

(9:37.) The sessions then opened the door to a particular kind of value fulfillment that was natural to Ruburt’s being. Now to some extent it was that poor, unhappy Sinful Self, a psychological structure formed by beliefs and feelings, that was also seeking its own redemption, since even it had outgrown the framework that so defined it. [...]

When Ruburt left the Church, the concept of the Sinful Self was still there, but the methods that earlier served to relieve its pressures were no longer effectively present. The concept was shifted over to the flawed self of scientific vintage. [...]

At the time the sessions began (pause), the world was beginning to seem senseless, truly incomprehensible, to anyone who held any sense of poetry or sanity. Your private lives were showing their own difficulties, and the national situation was horrendous. [...]

[...] During the first couple of pages of material I was rather close to being physically ill there on the couch. At the same time I knew what was happening, and as the session continued the feeling subsided. When the session was over I was able to eat. [...] But this too passed, although she couldn’t eat before we went to bed even though she was hungry.

(However, by late in the week I could see patterns emerging through my use of the pendulum, all concerning related feelings, doubts, etc., and was reassured that I was on the way to uncovering the source of my physical distress. [...] At the same time, through it all I could eat what I wanted, drink, etc., and the painting was going very well. [...]

[...] After the session I told her that my faith in the pendulum was reinforced; that in my own way I’d have eventually understood what I was up to, but that the session cut through many obscuring byways, etc., and went straight to the core of the problem. I also said that it was easy to see how such problems, left unfaced, could lead to things like ulcers, heart attacks, cancer, etc.—and small wonder that our hospitals were crowded with a flow of miserable humanity. [...]

(I should say here that one of the things the pendulum told me early in the week was that I was concerned because Jane wasn’t having regular sessions any more —that I felt she was missing something important in her life because of this lack. [...]

“Everything that she said was of a piece,” Rob told me later. [...] The impression that she was herself was definite … she didn’t seem anything like you. Her laugh was completely different … as was her way of using words. Her vocabulary was very limited, for example, and her voice had a petulant tone. [...] It was so stark and undramatic that it really rang a bell. [...]

Supposedly it was here where she met her husband, who was a foreman in the plant. [...] He was not English himself but was visiting relatives there. [...] The ground was poor, and Malba mentioned the place several times in a rather derogatory way.

I was really quite tired, yet after the session, I was astonished to discover that Seth had dictated an excellent exposition on the physical senses and had begun a description of the inner ones. [...] Whatever energy was being used, I decided, it was certainly more than I expected myself capable of that night. This was the twentieth session, January 29th. [...]

The next thing she knew she was running across a field, looking for help, not realizing that she was dead. [...] Malba was bitter about this. [...]

(It will be remembered that in the last, 63rd, session, pages 158-159, Seth stated that a narcotics scandal was to break in Elmira within 3 months. This information was given on 6/17/64. [...] It can be categorically stated that neither Jane nor I had any knowledge that such an investigation was underway involving Elmirans, before Seth mentioned it last week.

[...] I remember that it resembled a beetle, was about half an inch long, was a beautiful light red-brown color, and lay helplessly on its back with its legs thrashing. It was very nicely shaped; I seemed to see it as though under a magnifying glass; all the details of its construction seemed crystal clear. [...]

(After resting, Willy was once again active, almost perversely so, it seemed. Giving up chasing bugs, he now was busily tearing a small carton apart in the living room closet; the noise was surprisingly loud and came close to interfering with my hearing Jane clearly.)

[...] 6/27, 2:30 AM: Due to a very busy day I missed the regular experiment, but as I was falling asleep for the night I saw quite clearly the white-haired, shaggy head of an old woman. [...] Her hair was thick and tangled; she had striking overhanging brows and very dark, deep-set eyes. [...] There was some duration.

[...] She had also been concerned as to how far to go along with this experience while she was alone in the house. Seth stated that he did not realize Jane would achieve this focusing of inner energy so early in her studies with psychological time, and furthermore said that it could have unpleasant effects if it was unwittingly directed toward someone else. Nor was this possibility “shades of witchcraft. [...]

[...] Jane was dissociated as usual. I did remember Seth’s previous answer concerning the top question above, and it was to the effect that his experience with Jane and I is his first, at least on this plane. I was hoping he would elaborate on the experience. [...]

[...] Unaware of the passage of time, she then was awakened out of a sound sleep, not dreaming either, by a thunderously loud voice which shouted to her or at her: “Good night!” Marian told us this was so real to her, so loud and unmistakable, filling the entire room as with thunder, that she sat bolt upright in bed, fully awake and quite frightened. [...] The voice was that of Jimmy’s dead father; Marian said she recognized it unmistakably.

[...] At the time Jimmy was quite intrigued because the only playmates J.J. had were his older brothers and sisters, and these were not the people he was describing. Jimmy states that J.J. related such stories to him up until he was about four years old. [...]

[...] I only saw that she could use the rest, since she obviously didn’t feel well generally—but I also thought she was waiting for one of her characteristic surges of creative energy before digging into her next book (of which she always has several going). Our agreement was that in the meantime she was to start checking the sessions and my notes for Dreams; then I was to type the final manuscript. [...]

After some hesitation following my question about having a session this evening, Jane decided she wanted to contribute introductory material for Dreams. This was to be a new experience for us: Because of the arthritis she was having trouble even holding a pen, so she intended to dictate her material as though she were writing it herself in longhand. I was to take it down for her. [...]

(With a laugh at 7:51:) Later that same bare backside, thin and bony, was pressed against another metal table, while this time electrodes were attached to every available area of my head so that an electroencephalogram could be taken. [...] (Pause.) Some kind of white gum, or glue, had been rubbed into my scalp through my hair to improve the electrical contacts, and when the test was finished the attendant simply grabbed one area of the equipment and pulled the entire mess off my head in one motion—which felt like my entire scalp was coming off. [...]

[...] Yet there was, I knew, a fellowship even in those processes—one that I had perhaps too long ignored: the quality of fellowship, as a species or a family or a community comes together to help one of its own kind. And as I was to see, even for all of the pessimistic suggestions of medical science itself, in the very middle of crisis there was a certain indisputable sense of cooperation—a “vulgar” physical optimism, and a kind of humor that I had long forgotten existed.

(At the same time, I was discouraged by the reading thing, although I felt it was connected to Jane’s right leg troubles—the break and the drainage. She’d told me today when I got there at noon that a second drainage spot had opened up on the leg wound, underneath, and that it too was draining. [...]

[...] Her improvements kept up in rather spectacular fashion—for after supper she was able to rotate and flex her arms and shoulders even better than before. Once again, it was strange indeed to see my wife able to move her body in such a free fashion. [...] I felt surges of hope, and I could tell that she was pleased too. [...]

[...] The staff was very busy; nobody hung around. I told Jane that if ever we were interrupted during a session not to worry, for I didn’t think anyone would even know what was going on. [...]

[...] I was trying to avoid both disappointment and unnecessary confrontations. [...] My faith in the body’s innate abilities was reinforced. [...]

(The session was held in our back room. [...] Once again she was smoking as the session began; this meant her eyes had to open at least narrowly to find the ashtray, but she was looking down in the act and I could not actually tell whether or not they did open. Jane’s pace was quite slow, with many pauses, in the beginning. [...]

(In the 185th session Seth dealt to some extent with what he called Jane’s healing ability; one point he made was that the desire to help others would aid the development of this ability. [...] Whenever the advice was acted upon it worked out very well, whether the difficulty discussed was physical or psychological.

(It was now time for the 19th Dr. Instream test. Jane’s pace was now again very slow. Although I could not see her doing so, her eyes must have opened a trifle to find the ashtray, since she was again smoking. [...]

(The 17th envelope test was held during this session. The test object, sealed in the usual double envelopes, was the insurance slip for the manuscript of Jane’s ESP book, dated August 30,1965. [...]

(Jane said I was really saying that I was settling for second best. I agreed, adding that I saw no help for it if ever I was to finish the book. [...] I added that I was trying to avoid projecting any hassles with Dreams into the future, in line with the session for the day before [February 1], though I was aware that some of what I was saying contradicted elements of that session. [...]

[...] The temperature was already up to 44 degrees when I left for 330. Jane was already on her back — she’d refused to go to hydro when they hadn’t come by 12:30. [...]

[...] I already regretted the time I was spending on the session for Dreams.

[...] It was 100.2. “Oh, you do have a fever,” she said. [...]

(The session was held in our back room and was a quiet one. [...] Her pace was quite slow at times, her voice quiet.)

Ruburt’s own experience was also specific, in that his description of the place at which the Gallaghers stayed was highly accurate.

[...] The raise was one, the description of another salesman was another; and there were more in that session.

[...] Jane was dissociated as usual for a first break. [...] Her voice was stronger than usual, her pace quite slow by break time.

(10:03.) The Catholic Church taught that revelation was dangerous. Intellectual and psychic obedience was much the safer road, and even the saints were slightly suspect. [...] She was to be handled by wearing down her energy through continual childbirth.

[...] Though he conveniently forgot [Edgar] Cayce, for example, who was a trance master. And yet at the same time he was afraid of exerting power, for fear it would be thought that he was usurping male prerogatives. [...]

[...] (Pause.) It was a state when the species became aware of its own thoughts as its own thoughts, and became conscious of the self who thinks. [...] In your terms, it was the product of the feminine intuitions (though, as you know, such intuitions belong to both sexes). [...] Creativity was to follow certain definite roads, so the woman became the villain.

Ruburt was highly creative, and so following the beliefs of his time, he believed that he must watch his creativity most carefully, for he was determined to use it. [...]

Ruburt was used to the unbridled use of power, and at least among the sect his word was law. Reincarnation was also part of the belief structure. It was considered a blight of the gods, for example, to ever return as a woman.

[...] It was of a religious and warlike nature, in which the sword predominated. [...] Ruburt was the leader of such a group, and you were what could be considered his lieutenant, or closest at hand. The group was given to mystical practices, in which the dictums of Allah were followed—but also those dictums were enmeshed with some old Jewish practices and beliefs.

Moses was considered a saint, for example. The sect was a strange mixture of Mohammedanism, Christianity and Judaism, but it went under the banner of Mohammedanism, and considered Christians in conventional terms as enemies. [...] It was a rich pageantry of beliefs—almost an Oriental Christianity despite the fact that the Christians were considered the true infidels.

[...] This was overdone, however. On the other hand it was reassuring now because in that other life you were afraid of your own impetuosity, together, and had to know you could control it while using your abilities. [...] In that joint venture it made little difference which of you accepted the role that would in one way or another prevent the both of you from misusing power, for the one role would be passive while the other was active.

Yesterday he allowed some of these feelings to arise only because he was so miserable. (While we were in Sayre; Jane was doing the washing; mother was cooking dinner, etc.) He remembered you and the pendulum, and having none there instead allowed submerged feelings up. [...] (Jane told me about some of them at the time; which I thought an advancement.) He was scandalized and outraged. [...] There was no school, no excuses to get out. It was a day of encounters with her—her two-hour bath, the preparation of meals, and the wild hope that he could escape after supper for a few hours.

[...] You came from a different country, where the weathering effect upon statues was different. [...] There was difficulty with varnishes, sometimes drying before the color upon which they were applied. [...] On frescos this was disastrous enough.

[...] According to Seth I lived in Denmark in the 1600’s. I was a painter as a younger man, then gave it up for the more respectable role of a farmer, at which I was quite successful. [...] Perhaps I was there before giving up active painting. [...]

There was a varnish, finally, that you mixed in with some of the pigments after they were prepared, with the dry pigments after they were prepared, that served as a binding agent that also protected each color from the other one. There was a slight lead content mixed into the varnish.

(My wife was late getting back from hydro^* — the staff was very busy. The tray was late also, but Jane ate a good lunch.

[...] So I was twenty minutes late getting to Jane’s hospital room 330 this afternoon. The day was warmer — 32 degrees.

[...] I thought she was going to pass up having a session, it was getting so late, but finally she decided to have a short one as the time to turn her on her side arrived.)

(“The minute before I said I was going to have a session, that idea came into my mind,” Jane said. “I knew it was from Seth.” [...]

[...] Jane’s voice was soft throughout. She said her trance was good, yet she was aware of wanting a cigarette at the same time. [...] Now I wondered how it was possible for Jane to want a cigarette if her trance was so deep, etc. [...]

[...] Before, a book was a novel. He wrote it through, and that was the end of it. It was all intuitive, emotional and fictional. [...]

Now it was on the one hand feigned behavior, but the symptoms had to be bothersome enough or they would not have served their purpose. To some extent verbal communication was also minimized. [...]

[...] He was used to more frequent creative challenges, lesser ones in a way, rather than long-term projects, and he was not capable in the past of the planning for example that is now a part of his creative endeavors.

[...] A sample of urine was also collected. While Jane was eating a light lunch Lynn came in to start procedures for collecting another urine sample. [...]

(Then, while she was still eating, two lab technicians came in to take more blood from Jane — this was for a culture that would be grown for a week, they said. [...]

(Jane was actually a little chilly at times, and asked me to turn up the heat, which was working fine. [...]

[...] Jane was ready for me to turn her on her side by then. [...] She said it was “a broad spectrum drug” that could kill many germs. [...]

[...] She was still teary, her voice often choked with emotion. [...] It was raining heavily, just as it had done periodically yesterday afternoon. [...] Carla had said last night when she called that Jane was still doing the motions she’d begun yesterday. [...]

[...] It was John Bumbalo. [...] John told her I was “a wonderful man.” [...] She said she thought it was connected to Joe somehow.

[...] There was much laughing and joking too. [...] The first thought that crossed my mind was that I didn’t have a suit to wear — just my corduroys. [...]

[...] I don’t know what I’m doing,” she cried, when I asked her if she was thinking about Marie.

(I was disappointed that Jane ate so little for lunch today. [...] I also felt that Jane’s destiny was in her own hands, and that nothing anyone else was going to do would change that. [...] Her recovery was up to her, then, although I still puzzled why she carried her situation to such extremes when she said she didn’t want to die.

[...] I thought it was great that she was expressing deeply-felt emotion, just as I was surprised that she’d spontaneously — seemingly — chosen the subject matter for the session … This had to be good, I said.

[...] With her mouth closed tight she was making grunting and keening sounds as she moved her body, over and over, expressing vocally the same efforts she was making physically. [...] This was certainly a sign of that, I said, and something I hadn’t even thought of. [...]

(Carla called for Jane at 9:30, and told me that Jane was again doing those motions. My wife was already plunging in, then. [...]

(This session was unplanned. Bill Macdonnel, who has witnessed several sessions and has been involved in some of the effects obtained during sessions, was visiting us. He did not feel well, and I was quite lethargic. Jane was restless however, so we began to try various small ESP experiments. [...]

(I had thought Seth would stay, to say something about why results had not been good, but Jane said the session was over. She was not nearly as dissociated as usual. [...]

[...] One light was on in the living room but this bothered her, even though she sat with her back to it. [...]

[...] Ruburt’s insistence upon darkness was an attempt to increase your inner concentration. [...]