“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Ruburt was not responsible for the housekeeper’s death when he was in high school. [...] They were the way the problem was stated. [...]

[...] I told Jane the session was very good. At times during it I’d felt somewhat overwhelmed, thinking of what we still had to learn and accomplish, as well as about what we hadn’t learned in the past: Why was it all taking so long? [...] But the session was very good, I saw, and at the same time I felt a renewed hope.)

(I felt a bit tired, but thought the malaise was more psychological than anything else. Jane was also a bit depressed after reading my notes for Monday’s and Tuesday’s sessions, although she already knew their contents.

(She called me for the session at about 8 PM, although it was later than that before I was seated opposite her and starting on these notes. [...]

[...] Jane was dissociated as usual. [...] Jane was concerned about blocking the nightmare data, wondering if it was perhaps clairvoyant. [...]

(Jane was smoking as the session began and her eyes soon began to open. Her voice remained quiet; there were many people in the yard outside our windows but it was too warm to close ourselves in.)

(No envelope experiment was held.

[...] Jane was well dissociated, her manner very active, eyes open often, smoking, etc. [...]

For centuries it was taken for granted that God was on the side of the strongest, richest nation. Surely, it seemed, if a country was poor or downtrodden, it was because God had made it so.

(Peggy Gallagher visited briefly during the session, to tell me that a camera I wanted to buy was on sale at a certain store.

(Jane called tonight at 9:35, just as I was typing the session.)

In the third quarter of your life there was some strong physical difficulty that prevented you from plying your trade, and during this period more and more you began to emphasize in your mind the reality of this strange instrument called the piano, and in your mind you composed for it. [...] He was a statesman and you were for some time connected with his household. Your music was your god and your purpose for living. [...] Now your middle name was Aurelius and it was a throwback. There was a small town near Hamburg and here you were a teacher of music, and a pianist in a school that seemed to be connected with a gymnasium or the school was called a gymnasium. [...]

You dealt strongly with martial music and, in these terms, the music was used as a method of discipline rather than for freedom or spontaneity. [...] 1832 there to 1856, a very short life, under I believe a czar, and during this life, you met your present husband who was a young girl, the brother (sister?) of one of your students. [...]

[...] Ruburt also knows that our friend has wondered often why the information was not given. [...]

[...] And when you taught the flute, in the back of your mind always, was the idea of the piano. [...]

[...] There was also another child... [...] Your mother was a very heavy-handed father to you in that existence. Your father has now strong feminine traits because in Boston in an immediately past life there was a woman... [...] The first name was also Lydia. [...] was Agnew. [...]

[...] The child was a girl... [...] Was also known to this one here in Spain, the country now called Spain... [...]

([TM:] “The one I thought was Bega was actually Ruburt.”)

[...] The bump, for this has been a very active evening, was from your playful poltergeist AA. [...]

[...] Very slowly her eyes opened; they were very heavy and sleepy and the effort involved was apparent. I said it was the end of the session. When she finally began to talk Jane said this was the deepest trance, the “farthest out” she had ever been, bar no other time. [...]

[...] She used few pauses and many gestures, and it was evident from the outset that the trance was a deep one.)

Now in other ways it was also utilized by your old masters. The expansiveness then was also of a spiritual nature. [...]

The meaning behind them was known to all. [...] They saw the objects within their paintings as portions of a greater whole that was suggested by the painting.

[...] Eve, rather than Adam, for example, eats of the apple first because it was the intuitive elements of the race, portrayed in the story as female, that would bring about this initiation; only afterward could the ego, symbolized by Adam, attain its new birth and its necessary alienation. The tree of knowledge, then, did indeed offer its fruits — and “good and bad” — because this was the first time there were any kinds of choices available, and free will.

[...] At first, there was a difficulty in separating the remembered image from the moment in the present. Man’s mind then struggled to contain many images — past, present, and future imagined ones — and was forced to correlate these in any given moment of time. [...]

Good and evil then simply represented the birth of choices, initially in terms of survival, where earlier instinct alone had provided all that was needed. [...]

[...] Jane was very intent in her delivery.) The story of the fall, the rebellious angels, and the leader Satan who becomes the devil — all of this refers to the same phenomena on a different level. [...]

(No session was held Monday night because Jane was so relaxed again—that is, I’d thought that was the reason, but more about that later. [...]

[...] It was easy to lose track of them, unfortunately. [...] One thing that inhibited me is that I was aware, of course, of the predominantly negative context or tone of the whole idea of the list. [...]

(Pause.) Our material was precisely the kind that would directly threaten old beliefs, so in that regard there were bound to be points of conflict. Ruburt would meet them fairly directly, since after all he was not some hypothetical person reading our books, but the person responsible for delivering them. [...]

[...] The early vivid feeling for reincarnation, when he knew Roberts was not his proper name (as a youngster); the episode when he watched grade school children as no more than a toddler himself, and knew he had gone to school before; the flying out-of-body dreams; and the sense of identification with nature, and particularly with the night—those feelings waited for their vindication, for they did not fit into the world as he was told then. [...]

[...] I was pretty depressed by session’s end, since it seemed we had so far to go. The first question Seth referred to was the one about why the subconscious didn’t realize it was going to far, when it imposed or brought about symptoms, as in Jane’s case, that were proving to be too damaging to the body, compared to what they were supposed to protect the body against.

(The session was not held last night because of Tam Mossman’s visit.... I told Jane before the session that all day I’d been thinking that there was still a cause or causes for the symptoms that we didn’t know, or hadn’t uncovered yet. [...]

Ruburt’s early environment was far from perfect. [...] He expressed these theories and feelings through poetry, which was itself an unconventional activity.

[...] As stated, this brought conflict with the church—a painful-enough period for Ruburt, but he was sure in his convictions. At the same time, poetry was and is creative play, and it sprang from the depths of his being. [...]

He was so direct emotionally that he idealized what he thought of as your relative detachment. [...] At one time he felt his emotional spontaneity was indeed admired by you and encouraged, and he blossomed. [...]

Lately he was convinced that he was unattractive to you from the face down, that you considered him stupid, as he did, while having physical difficulty; that you were a perfectionist and did not want to see crooked legs—that physically, not mentally, he got in your way, and that physically you did not look upon him with approval, as he did not.

[...] Again, in one night I can only give you so much, but he grew afraid, and you helped him today to combat that fear: He was frightened that the body could not change, and your belief that it could was of great help.

[...] It was Eleanor Friede. [...]

[...] Making ready for the session, I discovered that she was quite vehemently going over and expressing [to some extent] what she’d learned today. [...] She was “agitated, yet half-relaxed.” [...] I thought it all a very good sign that some of our new thinking was beginning to take hold. [...] Her stomach was queasy, she said, as it sometimes gets when she deals with very personal material that is also very accurate.

(After finishing the library material, Jane called The Village Voice on impulse, but ended up feeling she didn’t do well: She didn’t get to speak to Jim Poett, who was not there, or to his editor. [...] I said I thought it better that she did follow the impulse, though, since anything, any action, was probably better than sitting immobile.

The material on impulses was indeed from me this morning, and in a way that material, coming through as it did, was the result of Ruburt’s dawning understanding that his own abilities can indeed help him solve his difficulties when he allows it. [...]

[...] I was painting, or mowing grass. [...]

[...] The word “high” is important, for art, his art—writing, poetry—was his version of, say, the high mass of his childhood, where he and not the priest was in connection with the universe. [...]

[...] When he tried teaching he began to get ill, for he was afraid that he would settle for the respectable-enough prestige it afforded, give in and stop his writing and other pursuits. He was in his late thirties, and sometimes tempted to do so. [...]

[...] No reason was given for the pursuit itself, for he was being pursued now and then at least, by several people.

[...] The dream gave him three scenes representing various areas of his life in terms of time—the institution of the gallery and his early ideas, the office representing the world, and his hiding place, which was a kind of storage barn. [...] From which he was seeking escape.

[...] Creativity was not inhibited by a certain form but (louder), in a unique way was freed from form. It was allowed to leap beyond the boundaries of painting or writing, to escape even the temporal frames of your present personalities, and to form an original psychic or psychological structure—a new psychological art, if you prefer—that could be contained in none of the arts as they are known. [...]

(As I told Jane last night, I didn’t realize that I was so tight, so bound up with tensions and stresses, that I was ready to fall ill because of those basic conflicts with self-disapproval, the male-provider role, money, taxes, and all the rest of the daily paraphernalia of living. [...]

[...] Jane was surprised at the session’s quick end. [...] We’d been set for the session to run until midnight if that was the way it developed.

[...] We thought Professor Moorcroft’s letter was very well done. [...]

(This material was given in two sessions of about 20 minutes each. [...] Toward the last part of the session her delivery was very strong and forceful; very fast and emphatic and impressive; her eyes were closed for the most part, and she was really out.

(A very successful session was held this evening for Claire Crittenden and Pat Norelli. The session was taped by Pat. [...]

[...] You chase him precisely because you were fairly certain you would not have him, for it was the search, again, that was important. [...]

(Seth’s pace was very fast in here, and I missed some material. I did not ask Seth to slow down, both in the interests of spontaneity for Jane, and because Pat was recording the session. [...]

I was speaking about feelings directed toward our friend here (Edgar) and I was pointing at you. I was pointing at you and at you (Sue) and at you (Maria). [...]

[...] There was a reason why there was no session last evening, and if you listen to the conversation, and if you understand the nature of suggestion as thoroughly as you should and must, then you will understand the reason. [...]

[...] Maria remarked there was no change or fluctuation in the lights while Seth was speaking than she had seen in Jane the previous evening.)

I was not yelling at you. [...]

[...] Usually she just plunged right into her latest creative inspiration, and that she hadn’t done so this time was to me a clear sign of her long-range, general physical-emotional state. I continued to reassure her [as Seth did also] after she’d finished Chapter 10, for I was deeply frustrated and concerned for her. [...] As the weeks passed she denied more than once that she was depressed. Watching my wife over the years, I’d long ago come to feel that I was observing someone who was following a chosen course with incredible ability and determination. [...]

[...] I was sure that, by arriving just when they did, they contributed much to Jane’s latest improvements. They offered enthusiasm and faith and reinforcement to both of us, and renewed in us a fine nostalgia for old, seemingly more innocent times—even though all of us knew that that was illusory: Basically, those class days, those class years, couldn’t have been any more innocent than any other times; it was just that hindsight helped!

[...] Once my right arm suddenly moved out to the left, throwing my pack of cigarettes I was holding to the floor with sudden energy. Then late Sunday night I watched TV, dozing off a few minutes at a time—I came to, frightened, to find myself half off the couch and on the floor, trying to get onto my chair; yelled for Rob, who was in another room. [...] Then a long dream experience in which my body was clearing itself.”

We always liked the idea, however, that others were recording class events and were keeping tapes for us if and when we wanted them; we also liked the idea that it was safer to have the tapes scattered about instead of being kept in one place. In class Jane might have listened to portions of a tape as it was being made, or immediately after class was over, but seldom would I hear her playing the same tape later—if we had a copy of it, that is. [...]

[...] I wondered why the method used was chosen by Jane, and what was involved emotionally and intellectually. We didn’t think subconscious fabrication was the answer, or that a total lack of control on Jane’s part was involved. [...]

[...] Jane was quickly out of trance, but it had been a good one, fast and active and emphatic and humorous. I said I thought it was a contact session, as Seth calls them, meaning that he was present with us at this time, rather than having given Jane the material earlier. [...]

[...] Jane was out of trance quickly. She was smiling, and explained that near the end of the session she’d had an amusing image. [...]

(Sunday, February 2, 1969, a group of articles and photos, totaling a full page and a half, was printed in the Elmira Star-Gazette. [...]

Later he wonders what happened, that his life was saved, and his plans altered at the last moment. [...] In spite of his own conscious lack of knowledge, he was brought to operate according to the information available in Framework 2, though he was not aware of it. [...]

[...] It was ill-formed, not certain, cluttered by questions like “If I am well, should I go on tour or shouldn’t I?” Or “Will I lose working time?” or whatever. It was not clear intent, really, on either of your parts.

To you the hall was a neutral-enough meeting place, but not one of intimacy, and to some extent at least it symbolized the relationship—at least as far as you were concerned—in that while you were a child of your parents you felt to some degree a stranger, and the hall lacked intimacy. The dream was a statement of those particular feelings.

[...] I saw the book listed in a catalog from which I was ordering some other books, and nearly included it in the order. I’ve been curious about it ever since it was published —last year, I believe—for from the reviews printed of it I believe it contains some material that may be a distorted version of Seth’s “sleepwalker” material in Volume 2 of “Unknown” Reality.

[...] Some of you, in previous existences, before this planet was as you know it, were a part of highly technical civilizations which you ruined out of avarice and greed and ignorance; spiritual ignorance. [...] Now this particular situation was reenacted many times and many places and not in one way only. [...]

[...] This was your interpretation of certain perceptions. It was much easier to believe that you had been kicked out of a garden of paradise than to realize that you ruined it yourselves. [...]

Now, (to Natalie) someone was trying to speak to you this evening and you have been doing very well. [...]

([Natalie:] “Was it Cato?”)

([The Gallaghers:] “There was a green modernistic chair with wooden legs in our room. It was light green. There was also a hobnail-type spread on the bed. [...]

[...] Hotel room number was 916.”)

([The Gallaghers:] “Both of us noticed that the toilet was cracked, the enamel part.”)

([The Gallaghers:] “One of the most interesting shops we stopped in was an Army-Navy type store in Greenwich Village. [...]