“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] The personality has experienced new realities since death, and is no longer precisely the person that was. The person that was exists as a sort of psychological unit, however. The person, the survival person that is, contains all that he was, and more.

(The second session was held at our apartment Friday evening, December 30, with Jane and me, Wesley Swan, Bill Macdonnel, Pat Norelli and Claire Crittenden present. [...] Evidently a good amount of the data was correct, being called so by Pat and Claire, although without notes we cannot check. [...]

[...] The object is a card, blank on the reverse side, written to Jane by Caroline Keck, conservator of the Brooklyn Museum; it was mailed to Jane in early August, along with a copy of the book, Is Your Contemporary Painting More Temporary Than You Think? [...] The list was also compiled by Caroline Keck; the book by Louis Pomerantz.

[...] The Kecks are well known in their field, and it is possible some social affair was held for them while they were in Elmira and at the gallery doing their work. [...] She knows she attended no such affair in their honor, but doesn’t know, now, whether she was asked to.

(Jane called early — before 9:00 p.m., as I was getting ready to type this session. [...] I found myself thinking about the cancer being a new, explosive growth within a body that was aging. That growth was fated to bring about not only the death of its host, but the cancer itself. So what was it doing, behaving in such a fashion? Was Joe Bumbalo giving birth to a new life form that upon death would be released to continue its growth elsewhere, just as we believe Joe will do after his death?)

(Jane was okay, although as I got to 330, three nurses were trying to insert a new catheter. [...] The tape was a copy, and the quality terrible — so bad we couldn’t understand it all. [...]

(The psychic reading was correct, I think, in saying that Jane had the creative potential to create a spectacular success, and recover. [...] She said she was “more unfavorably disposed toward the reading than favorably disposed toward it.” [...]

[...] He said Jane could die, but obviously she didn’t. He was correct in mentioning anemia, incorrect about liver and spleen problems, as far as we know. [...]

[...] All of this refers to Jane’s taking a taxi to the various schools in town, whenever she was called. I was not available to take her, having already left for work except on the first occasion. The taxi she used was orange and black.

[...] Of course Ruburt was out of his body when he saw Miss Callahan, who was in the same condition.

[...] A possible distant connection: At the end of her second day of teaching Jane was given a ride home by a next-door neighbor who is also a teacher. [...] In addition, the neighbor had just returned to Elmira from a trip to Ohio, so the Ohio thought was mentioned in the conversation more than once. [...]

[...] It was stressed to her that she attend to this job above all others, she said, so she was careful about this. [...]

It was a defect on the receiving end that caused fear on your part. [...] This was faithful to the inner senses. [...] This was a projection of your inability and should not be taken as any condition of helplessness existing in the inner world, as I am afraid you interpreted the image.

You switched yourself off automatically because the experience frightened you, but the whole affair was beneficial because it gave you some firsthand experience of pure inner sensory data. It was unfortunate that it was so uncontrolled, but I’m afraid this is to be expected in the beginning. [...]

[...] Seth’s material had reminded Jane that several times in the past she’d had the experience of hearing music when none was to be heard—that is, no radios were playing within range, etc. Jane has very acute hearing, but was still sure the music came from within. [...]

Ruburt’s forgotten-till-now experience with music was legitimate. Actually it reoccurred many times, I believe, and was always discarded by the conscious mind. [...]

(The 440th session was held on October 7, and was addressed to Pat. Roger’s list contained a fourth question addressed to Seth; this one concerns the Bahai faith, was formulated by a girl friend of Pat’s, and will be answered by Seth at a later date.

(Jane then told me to wait, that when she got something it was “real clear,” but that she didn’t know where it was coming from. I said she could wait and let Seth deal with the data, and she rejoined that she didn’t want to interrupt what she was getting. [...]

[...] Jane said her focus of attention was intense while speaking for whatever the source of data was. [...]

[...] What followed was surprising to us in several ways, and raised many questions that we will now search out answers for.

(Stuart was 23 years old—half-inarticulate, dirty, downcast—seemingly a pathetic case. Like some others we’ve seen, he was so locked into his reality that he was really quite unreachable. [...] I never heard Jane give better advice, though I doubted if an interview was going to do much about changing what seemed to be a lifetime’s habits.

[...] Not only because of the lost time and probably vain effort involved, but because as she talked, she knew she was saying things that applied to her as well. [...] We wondered what he was doing today. [...]

[...] Stuart was back at our front door. [...] His inner self was exposed and vulnerable. [...]

[...] Miss Bowman was my art teacher in high school. [...] I paid her back out of my wages in the Air Transport Command when I was drafted to serve in the military in World War II.

[...] I’d forgotten to do it last night, so absorbed was I in working on the copy-edited Mass Events. [...] I’ve deliberately let a few go for a while because I was busy on other things, but haven’t simply forgotten any. Jane missed the September 3 session, but when she asked me about it a few days ago I replied that I was up to date. [...]

[...] It was of course necessary for you to test them out. [...] A private search was one thing — but one publicly followed was something else (intently).

1. Helen Bowman — Miss Bowman, my parents and I always called her — was my art teacher in the Sayre, Pennsylvania, high school from 1935 until my graduation in 1937. [...] I was drafted into the Air Force in 1942, during World War II, and repaid the loan over my three years of service.

(Once again Jane was very relaxed as we prepared for the session. [...]

He knew that he was ready to go on to other spheres of activity. [...] There was no predestination involved. Because a tree branch falls, this does not mean that it was destined to fall in either the particular manner of its fall nor in the timing of the fall. [...]

[...] For example, I was thinking of the Los Angeles earthquake today. A man walked out into the street and was killed by a falling brick. [...]

This particular individual was quite aware of what would occur, on what you would call an unconscious basis. He was not predestined to die. [...]

(Bernice M.: “Regardless of who chose, it was destined that he die.”)

When Seth began this manuscript, I was personally working with the idea of “heroic impulses” (those separate from our usual ones) that would operate as inner impetuses toward constructive action. [...] Even I was taken back! [...] The ones I ignored while I was looking for the “heroic” ones? [...]

[...] Like many other people, I thought that following my impulses was the least dependable way of achieving any goal — unless I was writing, when impulses of a “creative” kind were most acceptable. [...] As a result of such beliefs, I’ve had a most annoying arthritis-like condition for some years that was, among other things, the result of cutting down impulses toward physical motion.

[...] I was being given many of the subject headings for — Seth’s next book, even as I was writing the Introduction for this one! [...] Then there was a brief point of psychological rest, an almost neutral psychological platform in which Seth’s outline began to emerge.

While Seth was dictating The Individual and the Nature of Mass Events, for example, the Three Mile Island nuclear accident occurred; and had the affair turned into a disaster, our Chemung County would have been used to house refugees. [...] Both situations occurred as Seth was dictating this book, and while they are contemporary, both cases are classic in their implications.

[...] The time was going fast again. [...] Her pace improved a bit as she went along, and it was still better than she used to do, but not as good as recent attempts. [...]

(Jane was getting more upset—here, she said, she’d had no session, no motions, and Paul was coming at supper time. [...]

(The patch was on Jane’s right elbow again when I got to room 330. [...]

[...] It was another fine step along the way, I told her. [...]

[...] Fred stayed overnight, was let go, went to the local Holiday Inn, and was arrested for failure to pay for services. [...] He was kept in jail overnight, then released. [...] So as I wondered about the day it all happened, Fred was turned loose in town, and might have indeed turned up at our door. [...]

[...] This was the same officer who’d brought us the message from Julia Bade two or three weeks ago. [...]

[...] He did tell them he had an apartment in Denver, CO, but obviously no local agency was going to pay to transport him back home; we’d wondered about that, too. [...]

[...] It was one in which she was attempting to follow in a still-life some of the techniques I’d showed her a few days ago, when I repainted another still-life composition she’d started, and showed her how to get more opaque effects for variety; a demonstration, then, for she’d asked for “a lesson.” [...] But interestingly, she ran into conflicts between her old method, in which she used mostly transparent color, and the new one, which, she complained in her frustration, was “muddy, and lacking vitality. [...]

(Jane was “just mad,” though, as we waited for the session to start at 10:10. [...] But she was blue earlier today, when various portions of her anatomy bothered her. [...]

(Long pause.) Now he wanted to hold such beliefs because he felt he needed that quite painful facade to protect himself from his own spontaneity, and then to protect himself against the world because he felt he was too spontaneous. The answer was to cut down on physical spontaneity. [...]

[...] You actually interpreted it in more mundane terms than was meant, and because you so interpreted it, the end result was that you did not seem to cover the ground any faster than others.

(The session was held in our back room. [...] Her voice was average.)

Ruburt helped me in producing that voice that he himself heard, simply because of certain electromagnetic alterations that occur within the trance state; and Ruburt was in a trance state upon the specific occasion of which I was speaking.

It was easier for me to make certain realignments and adjustments of a necessary nature. The other point that I wanted to make was that while your physical time, or clock time, has no overall basic reality, and is not a primary reality, that runs through various fields or systems, it is nevertheless an electromagnetic reality within your own system, for you have created it on mental terms.

(Actually my writing hand was tiring, but I thought Jane was in an exceptionally good mood, and that she might want to continue. [...]

[...] Lingering within the man you call your father there was always the sense of the unfinished. There was a feeling of the searcher. There was the need from which creativity springs. [...]

[...] In a sense he was more your passive mother than your father. [...] His love of machinery was his attempt, his strongest attempt, to make his being physical. [...]

[...] The man who was to have been your father left. [...]

[...] As the photographer he was often out of the picture. [...]

On his part in the past years this was subconscious. He did not realize consciously what he was doing, but was strongly impelled to take the stand that he did, and outraged subconsciously that you did not understand why he took it.

[...] He was not sure enough. He was working on hunches, to him, and he always followed whatever suggestions you made. He had his own background also, and he was afraid of being successful. [...]

(A long session was held by Jane for her ESP class on Tuesday, April 2, 1968. No regularly scheduled session was held the next day.

This was because of the interaction with your own attitude. [...] Your father disliked his brother who was wealthy. [...]

[...] She said that Wendy, the therapist in hydro, looked her over on her weekly routine, and once again told Jane that she was “coming along great.” [...]

[...] This was news to me, since I didn’t remember her wanting to spontaneously sit up before. [...]

[...] I was okay for the rest of the day, though. [...]

[...] She was also uncharacteristically quiet. [...]

(This morning [and last night when I got home] the furnace was making so much noise that I called our plumber to come check it out. [...] Miracle of miracles — when the heat came on tonight the furnace was so quiet I couldn’t believe it. [...]

(In the session notes for January 9, I’d noted that I still felt that something was holding Jane back from feeling free to walk, in spite of all the advances we’ve made. [...] I wasn’t even sure I was right.

(I was getting my stuff together preparatory to leaving for the evening when Jane said she’d been thinking it over, and had something to tell me. It turned out that she was — is — impaired in feeling free to walk because of her broken right leg, she said.

(Yesterday’s session was mainly on the Sasquatch phenomenon, triggered I imagine by the program In Search Of, and I’ll probably take time off from Dreams one morning to get it done. [...]

Jane’s parents divorced when she was 3, and she and her angry, bedridden mother lived on welfare. Jane also spent a year in an orphanage when her mother was hospitalized.

[...] At the same time there was a great clangor outside: Three firetrucks and another vehicle, all with sirens, turned the corner just outside our third-story window, evidently heading toward the temporary entrance to the emergency room. [...]

[...] Her childhood was difficult.

Jane’s father, Del, photographed her in 1951, when she was 22. [...]

[...] Instead my companion was assigned this job: Each day his task was to climb back out the window with perhaps three looseleaf volumes of the Seth material tucked under one arm. With the other, and his feet, he was to maneuver his way back down the wall, with only a white rope as an aid, until he reached the street. [...] I do not know what he was to do on the street, or ground level, with the notebooks. [...]

[...] The idea was new to Jane, of course, and I wanted to give her time to think about it. [...] She was very reserved about Seth possibly delivering a message for them. [...]

(When we were alone again I reminded Jane that as far as we knew the fund idea was known to only two people, so I was a bit mystified when Seth evidently talked about many people wanting to contribute. [...]

[...] I was taken unawares by Maude’s letter, unbelieving and yet grateful that anyone else would offer to give strangers money. [...]

(By 8:55 Jane was nervous as usual; she also had something of a kink in her neck, though to a minor degree. It was a pleasant spring evening, although traffic noise was loud through the open windows. [...]

[...] Jane was quite dissociated for a first delivery, she said. [...] The combination, psychio-physical was not familiar to her.

[...] Jane was fully dissociated—way out, she said. [...] She also had a vague idea of the general direction in which the material was headed.

(Later, Jane told me that as she was delivering this material aloud, she also contained within another parallel channel of thought from Seth, as she often does. This time she was quite aware of Seth’s concern lest anyone, upon reading this section of the material, commit suicide in a misguided effort to prove that it is possible for the consciousness to get along without the physical body. [...]