“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] If he wrote, steadily even, and did not go out for two or three days he would not think that there was anything wrong in that—nor would there be. When the stint was over he would feel perhaps a strong burst of physically directed energy, and want to clean the house or go for walks.

[...] Ruburt felt that because he was younger than you he could more safely afford the particular method he chose. The solution lies of course in the method, in that it was meant as a method to an end, and not as an end in itself.

It was not an easy road, in certain terms. [...] It was a condition that for example would not involve destruction of organs, or reliance upon the medical profession. [...]

[...] When his mind was tired it would automatically signal the body to physical activity, walks, changed environment, and so forth. [...]

[...] The program was fascinating, and was actually a sequel to a previous program of equal length that ABC had broadcast a few days ago; we’d seen much of that one, too. I heard Jane listening to this evening’s segment while I was working in the writing room. What a tale of intrigue, personalities, and beliefs it was. And as soon as Seth opened the session, I understood at once how he was going to link that tale with Jane’s own hassles. [...]

[...] Among other things I’d written that Monday’s session was even better than I’d thought it was. [...]

(Once again—by 8:47—Jane was very uncomfortable, trying again and again to find a tolerable position in her chair so that she could hold the session. [...]

[...] Ruburt’s body suffered whether or not he intended it to, because value fulfillment was being further denied. [...]

(In this last segment of the session, Jane’s voice was extremely low, and dwindled almost into nothing as the last words were spoken. I was very near interrupting the session. It was strange to see her whispering the words to herself then trying to make them audible to us. [...] She knew the glass was going to fall dimly, but after that she lost contact. She felt that her face was different in a strange manner, that muscles were relaxing into different forms but no one noticed any change. [...]

[...] Both Peg and Bill mentioned a chaotic state existing at the newspaper office where they work, though Bill said this was merely the result of a natural evolution of policies perhaps. Peg felt the situation was building up to some kind of climax; she spoke of small matters like limits being placed on personal phone calls, etc; various economies being instituted; the dissatisfaction of employees.

[...] Obviously she was going into a deeper trance and continued to do so as this material was delivered.)

(Jane began speaking in a good voice, more emphatic than usual; her eyes opened at times, her pace was average.)

[...] On two occasions since our last session (June 9), near contact was made. (With my probable self and Dr. Pietra in another more advanced reality.) What happened was a very momentary merging on deeper-than-conscious levels.

[...] Jane’s trance was good, but she was aware of the questions I asked. [...]

[...] (Long pause.) It’s being used in the context it was, in your parent’s home and under those circumstances, was unfortunate.

[...] It was the similarities however that made even that contact possible. [...]

(9:56 P.M. “Boy, I was out with that,” Jane said. [...] At the same time, it’s so simple… It was a different session in some way. My feelings are that I was different, although I don’t know about what different things you might get down. [...]

Poetry was an art and a science. [...] What you had — what you still have, though you are not nearly as aware of it — was an excellent give-and-take between the inner and outer senses. [...]

Poetry was her first, childhood love, and it remained a powerful creative factor throughout her life. Indeed, in some of her earliest poetry we found concepts that Seth was to elaborate upon many years later. [...]

[...] Mitzi was chasing one of her paperfoil toys down the cellar stairs. …

[...] I remember very well doing that on certain occasions—usually to avoid some school activity—and that even then I was surprised because my parents didn’t catch on to what I was up to. (Getting well after the danger period had passed was no problem!)

[...] It was not just that they believed suffering was good for the soul—a statement which can or cannot be true, incidentally, and I will go into that later—but they understood something else: The body will only take so much suffering when it releases consciousness. [...]

[...] I was terrified of those things—I think it was in the fourth grade. [...]

[...] In fifth-grade history class, in the convent she’d been sent to because her mother was hospitalized for treatment of severe rheumatoid arthritis, Jane learned about Marie Antoinette, queen of France, who had been guillotined in Paris in 1793. [...] “I’d be brave and scornful, knowing I was going to be beheaded—that sort of thing.”

[...] The longer visit, with the cheesecake woman, was meant to give you a closer look at the kind of person who gives lectures about us, and so forth—so she was symbolic of others. The young girl was helped by her visit here, and symbolizes many others who are helped by the books alone.

He felt quite maligned earlier tonight, when you did not realize that he was not grunting with exertion as he walked to the bathroom several times today. [...] It was of course apparent to him, but this is an example of the way in which unthinking habits of reaction can inhibit your perception.

He thought of that term before our Framework 1 and 2 material, and his idea was that the impulses came from a part of the self that automatically knew the entire picture of the self’s environment and potentials. He was quite correct, for those impulses arise from the larger self’s immersion in Framework 2, and those impulses led Ruburt to his intuitive inspirations, experiences of psychic events, and to the books. [...]

[...] For one thing, the number of excellent, well-meaning letters, and the birthday cards (and telegrams) were meant to show Ruburt that he was regarded with affection and honor and not held up in scorn.

[...] Jane said that her trance was good, that Seth was coming through fine. She had a sense of energy and that the material was beyond her, or coming through her.

[...] The earlier resistance against exercise was quite understandable, for it was a symptom of the inner resistance.

In the case of the apparitions and ghosts mentioned in that session, there was one main difficulty behind their situation. [...]

The focus of attention cannot be as strong as it was in physical life, hence the inability to deal with energy in those terms. [...]

[...] This was very strange for us. I was surprised to find my pulse speeding up; my palms became very wet. [...] The table was close by my right hand; I used it to take notes on. [...]

(“Do you think you might have tried, had you been aware that such a thing was possible?”)

He was an extremely aggressive woman last time. [...]

(Jane said this was not the answer she would have given in her book on idea construction. [...]

[...] Then, it was followed by a short scene of a sailboat on sparkling blue water. I recall no figures; the sails were a beautiful rich brown, as of woven material or leather; the design of the boat, while simple, was primitive; the water was brilliantly sparkling, the sky very blue.)

This was her name once long ago, as yours was Joseph. [...]

(Whereupon I commented with a laugh that I was spending a lot of time thinking about these sessions.)

[...] I was the natural one. [...]

The first (in Sayre), mentioned far earlier in “Unknown” Reality, you thought was definitely sold, and today you discovered that the sale was not that final.¹⁰ As you discussed these issues a rather important main point escaped your minds: The man who owned the first house (Mr. Markle) was a dealer in antiques and precious stones, utterly devoted to his work and engrossed in it, considering it his art. The house has a garden on one side, with high trees, and a yard on the other, and was relatively shielded. [...]

The second house (on Foster Avenue in Elmira) was owned for years by the people who gave it its character. The large living room was so spacious just so that it could hold a grand piano. The man who owned the house thought of pianos as his art (he was in the business of selling them), and the living room was simply meant to set a piano off.

[...] It was even clearer because the dream, which I can hardly remember, was so vague. But even after I got the answer I was too worked up to follow it. [...] The result was that on Saturday we made our low offer for the Foster Avenue place, as described in the notes at first break. [...]

[...] Jane thought the family name was similar to the “Gramada” that Seth had described; at session’s end I wrote that I intended to check our records for the missing name, and to ask Seth about it — but I neglected to do either of those things. One of the reasons for my failure to settle the matter right away was the lack of any immediate pressure to do so, for we hadn’t seen Sue since before the 729th session was held; that’s over five weeks ago now; newspaper work has often kept her too busy to make the trip to Elmira.

“I was not conscious of my age, 61, in the dream, nor do I remember anything about being committed to draw a daily strip also. [...] I thought the head was too small, but well done, quite youthful with curly black hair and handsome features, as one would expect such a magical character to have. I also saw that the head was almost too youthful for the strong physique of the character I’d drawn, although I wasn’t critical of this. All that remained was for the printer to fit the head and the body together. [...]

[...] It was a beautiful summer day. [...] She was by herself and I don’t recall her saying anything to us. She was carrying a large sketch pad, perhaps a 22-by-30-inch size. [...] Instead, as Mary lifted the cover of the pad, holding the pad out for Jane and me to see, we saw that the top page was covered by a lovely large floral pattern of leaves and flowers, as one might see on bedsheets these days. [...]

[...] She was saying that she wanted to visit, and then said she wanted to stay overnight. [...] The feeling I had was that something had happened between Mary and her new husband, an argument. She wanted to stay here for the night, perhaps leaving her son with her husband — which I didn’t think was a good idea. [...]

[...] (Pause.) He was gifted intuitively and intellectually, however, and naturally was propelled toward growth in both areas — areas that he felt stressed contradictory rather than complementary characteristics.²

[...] As stated, Jane was present when the envelope object was shown to the Wilburs on their visit here; perhaps Seth was getting at the fact that Jane didn’t actually see the object that evening.

(The 79th envelope object was a drawing made by me on Friday, November 25th, at work. It was a joke on Don Wilbur; Don and his wife, Marilyn, visited us that Friday evening and I showed them the sketch. [...]

(Jane began speaking in trance while sitting down; she was smoking; her eyes began to open soon; her pace was rather fast and her voice quite loud, comparatively—the loudest it has been in some time.)

[...] Jane said this was her way of getting at a connection with Don Wilbur’s wife, Marilyn. The connection being that Don was spoofed on the object.

[...] A woman was mentioned as influencing a sale; Jane’s editor, Mara Thomases, is a woman. She was not editor when the manuscript was submitted to F. Fell.

[...] The session was held in our small back room. [...] Her voice was quiet and clear. [...]

[...] Jane was dissociated as usual; that is, she retained a very general idea of what she had been speaking about. [...] He was more specific in the 31st and 32nd sessions, tying it in with her past lives. [...]

[...] The latest was in the 143rd session. [...]

[...] The rejection he felt however was quite real, and you did feel it—the jealousy—for whatever reason, was felt as valid. [...]

[...] This was to some extent in retaliation. Also however he had shut down so many spontaneous feelings toward you, because he feared them, that it was difficult to be spontaneous when he wanted to be.

[...] He knew you were less emotionally demonstrative than he, and more or less accepted this, knowing that underneath was a foundation upon which he could rely. It was this foundation he lost faith in, that so frightened him.

(Before tonight’s session I had emphasized to Jane that I was very much interested to learn whether we had uncovered all the reasons for her symptoms through the various means we have tried—our pendulums, dreams, these sessions, etc. [...]

Van Gogh was true to his vision, which means he was true to the self he created for himself in that time, and so must you be. But you must also have faith in what you have done, for it was all done in faithful rendering of your view of reality (in quotes) “at any given time.” [...]

Wheat fields for example, filled not only with the vitality of sun and growth but bristling with creativity that (in quotes) “destroyed” each part of itself in death, that was transformed instantaneously into a new spectacular form in which the creativity and destruction were always apparent, and yet one in which violence was necessarily turned into life.

[...] The framework, learning the form first, was adopted for several reasons, having to do with other existences, to some extent given.

[...] Josef was not able to paint anything worthwhile past the age of 40, and he turned to a land-owner’s province.

[...] At Ruburt’s last visit to your dentist, both of you decided that his position was embarrassing, that it put you both in a bad light, that his condition spoke of invisible defects. Ruburt was frightened of going, had a very difficult time with the stairs, but made them. [...] He was in people’s way. [...]

Art was art, but it was also on your part a search for truth through the medium of painting. [...]

[...] This chair (indicated), being used to get from room to room, was at that point creative, and it got him involved in the household again, and greatly added to the exercise given the legs over the entire day, for sometimes he walked to the bathroom three times in the winter, but for the rest of the day his motion was most limited.

[...] To us this was a regression from using the table, let alone from walking without any aid. [...]

[...] In the first part, she saw in a mirror that she had pink beads which she tried on to see how they’d go with the blouse she was wearing — blouse color unknown. In the second part, she was on her back in bed when her right hip did something and then her legs were equal in length in her vision. [...] I said it sounded as though the dream state was giving her information on healing and motion. [...]

[...] At the time I’d wondered if she was on the downgrade, for I didn’t remember her calling out so steadily in weeks past. I’d thought her driving herself until she was hoarse was a late — or last — confrontation with a world that she might soon be leaving …)

[...] They also had their humorous side, since today she barely looked at her image, then afterward told me that her hair was white. [...]

(The day was warmer at about 22 degrees. [...]

[...] Five months after my wife’s death, I called Laurel, who was an administrative assistant at a center for the arts and humanities in Los Angeles, California, for the first time. [...] Yet even so, as the years passed I began to better see that recovery from Jane’s death was going to take the rest of my life; and that within the framework of simultaneous time uncounted millions of others had experienced that truth, were doing so now, and would be doing so. [...]

[...] Following her passing, as a paralegal he was also a great help in resolving some old and troublesome publishing hassles. At the same time, I wondered often if it was of any use to try publishing Seth books, old or new — why do so, if sales were falling? [...]

[...] She’s married to Rick Stack, a writer, publisher, and lecturer involving things psychic; he too was a member of ESP class. [...] And added that she was already getting requests to do just that.

[...] I was 65. [...]

(To Sally.) What Ruburt was tuning into earlier was a 17th-century existence of yours in which you were also a woman. [...] Now the name was like the name of a well-known philosopher, Teljard. The first name was Naneen. [...] Your husband was what amounts now to a Colonel in the 14th Regiment then stationed within that city. [...] She, at that time, was an actress, however, a profession for which you then did not have the least understanding and showed little compassion for her efforts. [...] You had nothing to do with the death, however, you felt guilty about the circumstances for she did not do well in her profession and died, indeed, of starvation in another town never having told her family where she was. [...]

[...] Now he was also interested in concepts, and this will be your connection. [...]