“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

The language or the method of communication can best be described perhaps as direct cognition. Direct cognition is dependent upon a lover’s kind of identification, where what is known is known. At that stage no words or even images were needed. The wind outside and the breath were felt to be one and the same, so that the wind was the earth breathing out the breath that rose from the mouths of the living, spreading out through the earth’s body. Part of a man went out with breath — therefore, man’s consciousness could go wherever the wind traveled. A man’s consciousness, traveling with the wind, became part of all places.

I said before that early man felt a certain emotional magnification, that he felt, for example, the wind’s voice as his own. In a manner of speaking your languages, while expressing your individual intents and communications, also represent a kind of amplification arising from your molecular configurations. The wind makes certain sounds that are dependent upon the characteristics of the earth. The breath makes certain sounds that are dependent upon the characteristics of the body. There is a connection between alphabets and the molecular structure that composes your tissue. Alphabets then are natural keys also. Such natural keys have a molecular history. You form these keys into certain sound patterns that have particular meanings.

Initially language had nothing to do with words, and indeed verbal language emerged only when man had lost a portion of his love, forgotten some of his identification with nature, so that he no longer understood its voice to be his also. In those early days man possessed a gargantuan arena for the expression of his emotions. He did not symbolically rage with the storms, for example, but quite consciously identified with them to such a degree that he and his tribesmen merged with the wind and lightning, and became a part of the storms’ forces. They felt, and knew as well, that the storms would refresh the land, whatever their fury.

(The wind increased in intensity, blowing across the valley from the south and racing up Holley Road. [...] As I did so, a terrific blast of wind struck. [...] For some reason that day I’d forgotten to stopper the storm door, and the sudden blast of wind had slammed it shut with enough force to shatter the bottom of the two glass panels.

(Almost at once the strong wind began to subside, although the rain continued. [...]

[...] The wind burst against our apartment house in great forceful thrusts that were most unusual for this section of the country. [...] I found myself thinking that occasionally the trite phrase, “the howling wind,” was a very apt one.)

[...] Maybe it’s the wind. [...]

[...] This afternoon the temperature had registered better than 50°; it still read considerably above freezing, even if the chill factor generated by the wind made the night seem much colder. [...]

[...] The wind continued to beat strongly at the house. [...]

The wind knows the tree. The tree feels the wind. It knows it is not the wind, but only feels the wind. [...] I may be a big wind, but I am not her big wind.

[...] The wind is the wind irregardless of the branches through which it blows, and I am, irregardless of the subconscious mind in which or through which I appear. [...]

(Before starting work this afternoon I studied my favorite tree for a while, noticing that the force of the wind had begun to peel back large sections of bark from some of the middle limbs. [...]

[...] The noise of the wind and so forth gave you a glimmering of the earlier data that had not reached your consciousness.

[...] If it will help you, think of the energy as a wind, a cosmic wind that fills up from the inside, certain patterns. [...] Nevertheless the wind that composes them is never the same. [...]

(Long pause at 4:30.) You cannot see the wind directly — you see only its effects. [...] They possess power as the wind does, but you only see the effects of their actions.

[...] When he spoke of the wind, she felt like the wind, as any child will unselfconsciously identify with the elements.

There will be cool winds

The wind of eternity blows through my hair,

I shall be wind again. [...]

There are winds in the high Sierras —

(Then there came a stronger wind, and thunder in the distance, and the start of a meager rain. [...]

Such a person might imagine his or her anger or fury filling up the inside of a gigantic balloon that is then pricked by a needle, exploding in pieces from the pressure within, with debris falling everywhere — out over the ocean, or caught up by the wind, but in any case dispersed in whatever way seems agreeable to the patient.

[...] For example: You feel the wind and its effects, but you cannot see it. The wind itself is invisible. [...] In basic terms they are no more good or evil than the wind is. [...]

while the chill wind blows

and balmy winds,

[...] And as I talked to her I suddenly found myself crying for her again there in the semi-dark night while the wind seethed and roared. [...] It’s so wonderful …’ And as I spoke I intuitively understood that the motion of the wind was an excellent creative metaphor for the motion of Jane’s soul, that its cool feel upon my face could be the physical version of her caring for me ‘from where she is.’ The storm of my grief eased after a while, but the wind and the light rain continued. [...] When I woke half an hour later the wind had diminished a great deal. [...]

[...] Around 4:30 A.M. I woke to the sound of a heavy wind and the feel of much colder air creeping in around my body. The wind chimes hanging in a corner of the porch were clashing together repeatedly. [...] The woods come down over the crest of the hill in back of the house, to the north, and with a sound like an ocean tide the wind was racing through their treetops, plunging south past the house and into the valley. [...]

And I often feel this metaphor return as I step out on the back porch of the hill house and listen to the wind in the treetops to the north.

[...] The only sounds might be the wind in the treetops and the chug-chug of my shoes on the asphalt. [...]

[...] I do not recall a storm, or high winds.

And there is a wind,

The time winds quickly

[...] Constantly, one after another, dials show time, temperature, humidity, barometric pressure, rainfall, wind direction and wind velocity.)

[...] You have available, through your television set I believe, data having to do with outside temperature, wind velocity and so forth. [...]

(His head was bare and his hair blowing in a wind. [...]

[...] While I stared at it it appeared to be solid, and very nearly animated—note the wind effect mentioned earlier.

A great crazy pre-dawn—snowing like the dickens, wind blowing—and its thundering at the same time. [...]

[...] By plunging into our ocean of value climate you can dive beneath your camouflage system and look up to see it, relatively foundationless, floating above you, moved, formed, and directed by the shifting illusions caused by the wind of will, and the force of subconscious concentration and demand.

[...] You know wind by its effects. No one has seen wind, but since its effects are so observable, it would be idiocy to say that it did not exist. [...]

[...] It is like the branch that moves, so that you know the wind by its effects; and a windbag like me by the billowing gale of my monologues.

[...] You can, of course, feel the invisible wind against your cheek, but touch involves an immediacy different from the distant perceptions of sight and smell. [...]