“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] / Now I’m shivering, tired, /
tied out alone in the / black wind. [...]

([Joel:] “In one of the stories that Jane wrote, the guy went down to the beach with the wind chimes and (words lost) tree and he selected atoms and that somehow absorbed them through himself into another system until there wasn’t any physical world that we know of left at all, and then as I recall at the end he popped through his whole universe and isn’t that somewhat the same kind of thing? [...]

[...] But as the walls of your house are experienced by your outer senses, and serve to protect you against other camouflage materializations, even those of wind and rain and cold, so do the walls of past, present and future, erected by you as a different kind of camouflage pattern, protect you from inner forces and realities with which you are not as yet equipped to deal.

[...] Remind me, for our next session, to wind in a discussion of those subjective entities as they learned how to translate themselves into physical individuals.

[...] The wind had been blowing strongly—to 30 miles an hour, and even more—for over 24 hours. [...]

Now when you get a copy of this session read it and let the feelings go as rain or wind or lightening. [...]

[...] It fills forms, and as it passes the forms seem to blur, as a wind will fill out the sails and then disappear.

(The wind was strong, rattling the metal blinds of the west side of the house. [...]

[...] And how many times do we do this, invisibly winding such data into the fabric of our perceptions, reacting to it without even realizing it?

[...] It was the business of the rulers to know in which direction the religious winds blew. [...]

You wind it up like a fine toy, but you are careful of the directions in which you let it run. [...]

[...] Some quite frankly prefer to die in what others would consider to be the most dire circumstances — swept away by the raging waves of an ocean, or crushed in an earthquake, or battered by the winds of a hurricane.

[...] Add the number 103 to our information concerning the location, and there is the whistle of wind.

[...] At first the date had been November 2. The idea of mother spending some time with Dick is not new of course, and this particular visit, postponed several times because of a bus strike, has been in the wind for a long time.)

The inquiring intuitions and the searching self, like summer winds, can travel in small and large spaces, can know of actualities that are more minute than pinheads and more massive than galaxies.

[...] There is no law, however, stating that a man cannot instead throw these blocks to the winds and hope that when they fall down they might possibly fall into a castle.

[...] As the animal must play, mate, hunt his prey or eat his berries within the physical context of sun, ground, trees, snow, hail and wind, so in a different way man must pursue his ideas by clothing them in the elemental realities of earth, by perceiving them as events.

[...] The correct interpretation was that of a vessel, the ship, in which the Tubbs woman toured; the breaking bag, winds unexpected during a day of travel during the cruise.

Obviously, Seth didn’t follow through on the statement he’d made near the end of the last book session, which we held much earlier this month: “Remind me, for our next session, to wind in a discussion of those subjective entities as they learned how to translate themselves into physical individuals.” [...]

[...] Ruburt’s grandfather was correct—you need a house open to the four winds.