“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] Each morning, Jane is placed upon a litter that is lowered into a large tub of gently-swirling warm water that massages her whole body. [...]

[...] Bill is an expert swimmer and diver, but got caught unawares between an incoming and an outgoing tide offshore, in choppy water, and nearly perished. [...]

[...] He had heard talk while there that this had been the case perhaps two hundred years ago, before that section of land had settled beneath the water. [...]

[...] Waking, she said she’d dreamed that she was home in the shower, on her hands and knees part of the time, with the water cascading upon her head. [...]

The mental exercise of seeing himself vigorously cleaning the apartments at 458 (where we used to live on W. Water Street), or the rooms at the hill house (where we live now), can also be used most advantageously.

(“What do you think of the dream I had, about Leonard, Jane and me moving back to 458 West Water Street?”)

[...] You are not astonished to see that the land suddenly gives way to water. [...] The land may change to water, for example, but today must not change into yesterday in the same fashion, or into tomorrow in the beginning of today’s afternoon.

[...] Presumably this will be the last one — for now, closely following upon my precarious circumstance in the water, I saw myself as dead. When I woke up I made another little drawing: I showed my Roman-captain self still face down in the water, but entangled with the branches projecting from a waterlogged tree trunk — I’d been caught that way for a while, before a group of fishermen on a North American beach hauled body and tree ashore in their net. [...]

In the meantime, the spirit of that volcanic island is visiting the first island, and finds itself enchanted by the still waters that lap against the shore, the gentle birds, and the few palm trees. [...]

[...] And so little by little cacti grow where there were none, delicate buds opening, filled with water. [...]

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

Water has healing qualities, and walks by the river when practical, will be of benefit. [...]

[...] Her hair and scalp itch—I suggested it was caused by the medicated water in hydro, but she said no. [...]

[...] “I’m about as weak as water,” she said. [...]

[...] You cannot love someone you do not know — not unless you water down the definition of love so much that it becomes meaningless.

[...] Jane said she’d been picturing herself at the old apartments on Water Street [we’d ended up with two], and around town as she used to go — all as though she were taking the last grand tour. [...]

[...] First, we’d moved back to 458 W. Water — which I seem to do several times a week — and looking out my old studio windows, I saw my father cutting hair like a barber out in the driveway in front of the garage. [...]

[...] In terms of air, water, how freely these are available to you, sunlight, even the abundance for example of emotional energy present in your friend who just left here, for he makes it available to you also, and gives of it freely. [...]

[...] U.S.A. Connection with a lake or water, or a bowl.

(“Connection with a lake or water, or a bowl.” [...]

[...] It worked well, and came about spontaneously when I dropped my notebook on the bed when Jane asked me to get her water. [...]

(Another smile.) This is something like the fox he read of, who to get rid of fleas carries something like a ball of wool in his mouth and walks into the water, forcing the lice out further and further. [...]

[...] You would both do better nearer water.