“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] Marie used to tell Jane it was her fault the mother was sick, and that it was also her fault that Jane’s grandmother died, and the housekeeper. [...]

[...] We talked about other similar situations and things, and she was near tears at times — so there definitely is emotion there. I don’t actually think we said anything brand new, but it was good to review it all. I explained my position that she didn’t need to make bargains with herself, as she used to tell me she did — that it was perfectly okay to be healthy and talented at the same time, using one’s abilities as one chose. [...]

(Jane called with Carla’s help at about 9:40, as I was typing this session. She said Carla had told her that she was on duty the night of the day Jane was admitted to the hospital April 20, just a year ago. [...]

[...] I was tired and somewhat exasperated, and she picked this up from me immediately. It set off a chain of associations for her, and she pursued them while saying she was half embarrassed to mention them. [...]

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

(“and an occurrence that was not repeated.” The sheriff told us the bureau was flooded by mail requests for plates and was very much behind; indeed they had just begun filling mail orders a day or so before our visit. [...]

(Jane was pleased with the test results. [...] The dream material was not specifically mentioned by Seth, however. It will be noted that his data moved between the fact of our being strongly concerned about the license plates, and the experimental object itself, which was picked up as the focal point of our concern.

When I gave my material it was meant to be reassuring. This was my intent. [...]

[...] Feeling struck me forcibly that it was caused by Marian Spaziani [our landlady]. [...] Thought I was mistaken. [...] It was Jimmy, Marian’s husband. [...]

[...] It was dark of course, but I saw very clearly the figure of a blonde young woman in riding clothes, facing to my left. She was sitting down. [...] I saw this image as I was in the act of lying down.)

[...] Her voice was but a little stronger than normal, her pacing regular, her eyes dark as usual. Her delivery in the beginning was rather slow and interspersed with pauses, but after a page or so it began to pick up speed, until she had me writing at a pretty good rate. [...]

[...] The remark of mine to be discussed was one I had made around supper time, and I was now rather surprised to see it crop up in the material.)

[...] It is Alexander Anare (the “e” is silent), who died in 1906 and was a friend of her family. He was indeed a lawyer, but also was involved involved in psychic studies with a group in Cleveland called the Brothers of the Fourth Order, and he is particularly interested in the manipulation of physical matter. [...]

There was a severe difficulty here. [...] There was a difficulty in the lung area. [...] There was no awareness of this on the part of your mother, but the difficulty in her own condition partially caused it, a low blood count and circulatory difficulty in her own condition. [...]

[...] I am glad that it was amusing, but amusement was not the point.

Energy was used to shatter the table. Energy was used to manipulate physical matter. [...]

(Frank, also, has never come across another case like Jane’s, from the days he was a chiropractor until now. [...] If memory serves, Seth said a long time ago that Jane did not have arthritis, but for her own reasons was mimicking her mother’s disease. Jane is really bothered, though, and we trust that Seth was correct in the last session when he said this phase of Jane’s symptoms would soon pass. [...]

[...] With my flashlight, he glimpsed a medium-sized coon, but couldn’t tell if it was male or female, or whether it had young. [...] But then, I thought, it must be getting in and out by itself all along, for at least three weeks now, and I was sure that late at night I could hear more than one voice chattering above the damper. [...]

[...] Up beyond the damper, I could easily hear our raccoon guests busily chattering away: perhaps it was feeding time, their noise was loud, now—a sure sign of growing things, I thought. [...]

[...] There was no doubt that she was uncomfortable as she sat on the couch. [...]

(This, then, was the question. The envelope object for the test in question was a piece torn from a hidden page of The New York Times. The piece was small in relation to the page, which I did not see. [Hiding it in the studio while my eyes were closed, etc.] Yet when Seth, through Jane, gave the test results, much accurate data was given concerning the full page that lay in the back room, as well as the actual small envelope object in Jane’s hand during the session. We wanted to know how such a thing was possible.)

(This session was held to obtains answers to two questions we had for Seth. [...]

[...] From the torn section, then, to me the whole was present, the entire page; and from portions of the whole, the whole can be read or understood. [...]

[...] So we used this in that test to enlarge the picture, and bring in further details that did give you a rather complete picture, respectable data, in a way that was fairly natural to Ruburt. [...]

(Today, Christmas Day, was very cold indeed—below zero last night, and only 10 above when I left for the hospital this noon. [...] Jane was doing well. [...]

[...] But when I awoke to the fact that I could fasten it to a window pane via the suction cup, it was transformed somehow into a perfectly valid, evocative decoration of nature. And it was a lesson for me. [...]

(Jane’s right foot, the big toe area on the underside, had been bothering her off and on all afternoon, as though it was getting ready to become more active. [...] or “do something” this afternoon, even if it was a holiday. [...]

[...] It was almost time to turn Jane on her side, but first I read the session to her. [...] It was very cold once more, but the car started okay. [...]

It is true that all spring from the same source—creativity—but the divisions between his personality’s use of those abilities, and my use of them, was not to be broken down. [...] There was a period while he learned to readjust, of course. He was learning.

[...] While Jane and I discussed the events of the day, however, she said Seth was around, and that we could have a session if we so chose. [...] The session was held in Jane’s workroom.)

He has always been deeply concerned with the nature of reality, both from an intellectual and emotional standpoint, and where Seagull did not reach him personally, he was fascinated by the phenomena of belief behind it, and then was fascinated by the phenomena of belief behind the Lourdes healings.

[...] Timothy Foote was very interested in Jane’s abilities, and said he would like to return for a session with a recorder. [...]

(It was 9:34. [...] Again I was surprised, not expecting any interest in a test tonight. [...] Her position was the same, head down, eyes closed.)

(The session was held in our small back room. [...] Her voice was average, her pace good. [...]

[...] She was still out of sorts and restless. [...] The pace was slower now, with more frequent pauses. [...]

[...] Nor do we know what to make of “someone stubborn,” unless this was a personality trait of one of the people depicted on the stamps. I could speculate that Jane’s constant nagging at herself to begin another project was stubborn, in that she refused to relax. [...]

[...] She said she almost didn’t bother to tell me about it, that she wasn’t sure it was from Seth. She didn’t hear it clearly within as she ordinarily would if it was a message from Seth before a session was to begin. Her own thought was that it indicated Bill’s arrival sometime after the session had begun.

[...] I for one was quite upset by this. Jane was not beginning the session, either. [...] Throughout the session her voice was a bit stronger than normal, her pace rather slow, her eyes dark as usual.)

(Tonight our first formal witness, Bill Macdonnel, was to attend a full session. [...] Bill was due at 8:30.

[...] It was unfortunate that your friend did not arrive on time. It was this extra element of anticipation that kept Ruburt from the usual excellent state of dissociation in the beginning of the session.

(Today Jane’s nurse, Peggy Jowett, put her through a regimen of moving, washing, and changing dressings—a busy two hours that was all Jane could handle, we agreed. Was her later malaise simply the result of physical exhaustion? I didn’t really think so while granting the possibility, for Jane also dozed in the mornings and on weekends when no nurses were present, and I changed her dressings on weekends within 20 minutes, so there was little strain involved there.

[...] “What I was getting from Seth was that any hospital serves as a terrific example of a belief system....” Abruptly, Jane broke off speaking in her normal voice and began delivering her material in a different, light, hesitant voice that was in between her own and Seth’s: “....highlighted through the light of activity and interactions. [...]

[...] “If it was me,” I said, and I probably shouldn’t have, “I couldn’t wait to get something on what’s going on, in the hope that it would help.” Lately I’ve more or less given up bugging her to have sessions, since it seemed that that activity was beyond her means at this time. [...]

[...] Mr. Wrigley, the physician’s assistant who had called a couple of weeks ago, also visited today to check upon Jane’s decubiti [which are doing well, by the way], so he was here when Peggy arrived. [...] Mr. Wrigley said that the ulcer on Jane’s coccyx was filling in with “grainy” flesh, which means it’s on the mend also, if slowly. [...]

The others present will always remember what happened here, and my explanation was a necessity if the affair was to be successfully concluded.

(Jane sat up as she spoke.) Ruburt was able to direct and use a strong amount of this energy that evening, and he was also aided by your participation. [...]

[...] His energy is now, incidentally, normal— that is, his energy is at the point where it was, but now its emergence will not be blocked as it was at that point, just before his symptoms.

[...] The spontaneity was excellent, and Ruburt has learned to give his spontaneous self more freedom in our work.

[...] I also had trouble figuring out the right size to make the figures in the oil—nothing was going right, and after a while it was only too obvious that my subconscious was raising hell about the whole project.

(The pendulum told me that I was bothered by the idea of the possible lack of permanency of the panel I had chosen, and briefly that I was somewhat aware of the change in this picture, as far as handling of form would be concerned, from my usual style of working. [...] I thought I had resolved the problem, but when the symptoms continued during Jane’s ESP class Tuesday night, I realized I was wrong—the problem had not been cleared up.

[...] I was afraid that once the symptoms persisted for another day or so, I would have a cold or some such thing to handle, and that days could be spent clearing it up. [...] I was also struck by my reaction to the whole development, and couldn’t help comparing my reaction to Jane’s reaction to her own symptoms. [...]

[...] This experience was quite revealing. [...] It began to seem very clear to me that this was what she must do.

(10:00.) The Arab was a very interesting character, by the way, and to illustrate some of the difficulties involved, I will tell you about him. He hated the Jews, but somehow he was obsessed with the idea that Moses was more powerful than Allah, and for years this was the secret sin upon his conscience. [...] He was captured, and ended up with a group of Turks, all to be executed by the Christians, in this case very horribly so. [...] He cried to Allah, and then in greater desperation to Moses, and as his consciousness left his body, Moses was there.

(Already I was putting my notebook aside. Our black cat, Rooney, was scratching at the door of our living room. [...] Before I got back inside the apartment our paperboy arrived; by the time I finished paying him Jane was out of trance. [...]

[...] It little mattered that later the plan was seen as a child’s primer, a book of instructions complete with colorful tales, for the main purpose was served and there was little disorientation.

He believed in Moses more than he did Allah, and I did not know until the last moment which form I was to assume. He was a very likable chap, and under the circumstances I did not mind when he seemed to expect a battle for his soul. [...] He could not rid himself of the idea of force, though he had died by force, and nothing could persuade him to accept any kind of peace or contentment, or any rest, until some kind of battle was wrought.

(It was perhaps our hottest and muggiest night to date here this summer, and Jane was not at her best. [...]

(Slower pace.) Fuel difficulties; not a lack of fuel, but the fuel was not getting where it should get. [...] Night was when the accident occurred.

[...] (Pause.) There was no explosion. (Long pause.) Where the plane fell was not as far out from land as it would seem.

[...] We had to have windows open, and traffic was a problem, as is usual here in the summer. [...]

[...] I thought that the whole subject was fascinating when he began, but I didn’t expect a demonstration in the middle of our living room, which is exactly what happened in the 68th session (July 6, 1964). Seth was describing the intimate connection between expectation and perception—what we see and observe—to Bill Macdonnel, when the incident took place. It was a session none of us would ever forget. [...]

[...] The form was mainly a silhouette, Bill said, without strong detail, and yet during the first monologue he got a good look at the face. The effect was rather like that of a photographic negative. Bill added that the face of the apparition was about six feet above floor level. [...]

[...] I was somewhat bewildered. [...] It was not as solid as an ordinary body, but it was far from transparent. [...]

At our request, Jane remained standing where she was. There was no doubt about what we saw. [...] The room was well lighted. [...]

The notation was on a desk in the woman’s apartment, and Ruburt had not seen it, and was not familiar with it in the ordinary fashion. I will not go into this any more deeply now, because your name was involved, Joseph. Ruburt “saw” (in quotes) the slip of paper, and he was not able to read the rest of it simply because your name was not mentioned again and there was no further information on the paper; merely names, and he had no more emotional incentive.

[...] It came while she was still awake; she had just relaxed and her eyes were closed. [...] It was a warm and windy spring night, very beautiful, and during the session one of the living room windows was open.

[...] I do not know if it was merely a dream or not at this point. It was not the same sort of experience as the other you had in connection with a tree. [...] You may have seen its ultimate falling, but this was not the same kind of experience as Ruburt’s seeing the clock.

[...] Jane was fairly dissociated. [...] It was indeed a beautiful night.

[...] The energy that would have been used in what you may call, for now, astral projection, was dammed up. [...] The trouble was that the energy that would have been used to carry out the suggestions was dammed up by the ego.

[...] She had also achieved a good state yesterday, Sunday; indeed, this was the first weekend during which she had tried psy-time, and she speculated that she had overdone it by experimenting for ten days in a row. I felt she had alerted her ego somehow, and that it was balking at going through the usual psy-time routine. [...]

[...] Her manner was somewhat more animated than it has been lately, and her voice was deeper. [...]

[...] Jane was not as well dissociated as usual, she said; running water somewhere in the house annoyed her while she was speaking. [...]

First of all, the affair with the woman, Billie, was quite legitimate. I was present, as an overseer, and Ruburt did well. [...]

This was not always the case, but in too many instances my intellect has been held back by the stubbornness of his ego. His own abilities have not therefore grown at the rate which was possible. [...]

[...] Since the data was remarkably consistent in that none of it applied to John, Jane and I began to wonder if it was not displaced from someone else.)

The error having to do with the name Philip—the minister at one time in his life was called Phil. [...] This material was received last evening, and displaced in this evening’s session. [...]

[...] She said Seth may have stopped just because she thought she was going to have a bladder spasm as she did yesterday at break time. Jane was quite pleased because I said it looked at though she was starting to put on a little weight. [...]

[...] She also was able to reach her left ear with her left hand again—and dug more wax out of the ear with a fingernail [index finger]. Again, seeing her do this was strange, considering the new range of motion she now has. [...]

[...] Margaret Bumbalo visited just as she, Jane, was finishing supper. Margaret was surprised at the amount of food my wife had eaten. [...]

[...] She said it hurt too much—not that it was worse, but that the “pins and needles” that resulted from my touch were too uncomfortable. [...]