“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Eyes open briefly, slitted.) These windows are always available to us, as the windows in your room are available to you. In your terms some of the windows would contain probable realities within your physical system. To us one is as real as the other.

(After the session began, she said, laughing, that she had the image of “a bunch of spooky-looking guys, looking through windows and windows and windows.” More seriously, Jane said she had the feeling during the delivery that Seth was helping the other personality to reach us—that the entity’s messages were like “handkerchiefs or clips of paper, that they had to be thrown out right in front of us or we wouldn’t see them.”

Looking into your system, into your physical system, to us is like looking through one (pause), of innumerable windows.

We have to select your proper window. You could not understand us if we did not speak through one of your kind. We try to give you information for your benefit and that of your world. It is necessary that we rely upon the mental equipment of the person through whom we speak, and at times we are able to activate the intellectual capacities many times above normal, in order that certain concepts be given.

Ruburt once wrote a poem about a nail on a window sill. [...] A nail may not choose to jump down from a window still and dance about the room, but a nail is indeed aware of the room, of the window sill, and aware of the temperature on both sides of the window. [...]

(The room had been warm, and I had the heat off and the window wide open. [...]

[...] Thus it has two display windows, one on each side of the door. The so-called disputed painting is in one window. In the window opposite it Bill has a large hand-lettered sign dealing with the hours when his gallery is open to visitors and for painting classes. [...]

[...] When the police asked Bill to remove the painting from his gallery window, he asked advice from three people in particular. [...] These two supported Bill’s decision to leave the painting in the window. [...]

[...] In the third column of the envelope object there is a reference to “ceramics and metal sculpture” also in the window with the nude painting that is the subject of the object. [...]

[...] Certainly the pressure applied to Bill Macdonnel by three police visits or calls, in an effort to get him to remove the painting from the window. [...]

[...] I got up to look out the living room window, to try my mental experience of traveling across the Walnut St. bridge again, to “feel” myself doing it as before.

(As I looked out the window, my sensation began to grow. [...]

[...] I kept looking out the window.

[...] These conscious selves are like windows that belong to your entire identity. When you look from one window, you look out into physical reality. When you look out through other windows, you look into other realities. [...]

[...] We simply want you to look out other windows. The shades are pulled down now over these other windows (indicating the particular windows in the room). [...]

Other portions of your consciousness may have as much difficulty seeing through the windows as you do. You will find yourself, for example, looking through many of these windows at the same time. And in these windows you may view other portions of yourself. [...]

([Class Member:] “Would we necessarily, in looking out of all these windows, see a visualization of another channel? [...]

[...] To my left was a narrow window of vertical design, with either an aluminum or stainless steel frame. Looking out of this window, which was perhaps only two feet wide, I could see a shining aluminum or steel guardrail, and that even if a person managed to jump or fall out of this window, the safety of a stone parapet lay perhaps ten feet below. [...]

(At the window as I looked toward it, I saw a girl. She was trying to open the window, which I believe was designed to swing inward, perhaps in two sections, an upper half and a lower half.

[...] Looking back, I believe the upper half of the window was open; I seem to recall seeing the girl’s left arm draped over the top edge of the still-shut lower window.

[...] It seemed that I watched the girl struggling with the window for some seconds—certainly long enough for the vision to have definite, measurable duration. I never did open the window for her.

(I must admit the next day, as I type these notes, that regeneration or no, I had a “relapse” into the old chest difficulty this afternoon after washing the bedroom windows at Jane’s request. The physical labor involved was minimal and took only a few minutes, coming after Jane had almost tearfully asked—even demanded—this noon that I try to keep the windows cleaner. [...]

[...] of course, was very upset by my chest difficulty, telling me after her nap that she was very worried, bothered of course by the fact that she’d asked me to wash windows. It will be remembered that one of my stronger reactions last month had come about after I washed windows, too. [...]

However the window(smile, eyes open) you see, was a quite valid fabrication of his own. [...] The window through which he ascended was a symbol necessary to him. The actual physical window was behind his head, you see, so he felt impelled to have a window in front of him, in order to get out of the physical house.

[...] I looked down on her as she sunned herself, my viewpoint being the back row of the studio windows on the second story. [...]

[...] (Smile.) Ruburt’s window image, had the experience continued, would have effectively done this for him. [...]

Instead he has to form the imaginary image of a window, which is in itself some feat, and then project himself through this. [...]

[...] We held it in her study for a change, with all the doors and windows open.

Dictation: Because the point of power and action is in your present as you understand it, so each day is like the kind of window that can provide many views through its different panes.

The window of each day can be opened or closed, but it is framed by your current psychological experience. [...]

[...] Their progress lies latent within the window of the moment point — the moment point simply being your current intersection with the reality that you know.

A particular grown woman’s ensemble in a store with an orange awning or in the window, with a high price tag. A three-piece outfit… I pick up one two five here again and I believe our friend, the cat lover, enters the shop and that the ensemble is in the window… La Rue… I do not know, a street or does she rue entering the shop? [...]

[...] A half completed structure with many windows. [...]

[...] Definitely a nuisance there, a loudmouthed Englishman who annoyed everyone by whistling and singing with the band, not many windows, but some shrubs.”)

[...] Frank Longwell just went out back again, to finish working; the huge yellow back-hoe moves outside the kitchen window; the air suddenly turns dark; the sun disappears; an odd cast of light covers everything; stormy, evocative. A mourning dove makes its lonely lovely sound; Frank comes in to make a phone call—ordering concrete for later today; Rob is typing in another room, the FM radio station is playing a symphony; outside my side window the green leaves shimmer in the air; and again, everything seems synchronized in its own fashion; everything separate yet together. [...]

[...] And unless you looked out of the windows you would notice no change. But if the windows were sealed and closed, you would not know the difference, and so until you learn to look out of the windows to the inner selves, then you will not realize what your own environment consists of. [...]

[...] And take care that you look out of the windows now and then, lest you all go sailing past West Water Street. [...]

[...] He threw open the windows, something usually denied him. [...] He also liked to have the radio blaring as a gesture of defiance and freedom, and within limitations, this would be an aid when the windows are opened. [...]

[...] As an example only, I will give you two reasons for my suggestion that the windows be thrown open and the apartment aired.

It would perhaps help if at least one window is open during Ruburt’s exercise period.

(“A window, or indication of an open viewpoint, or station from which activities may be viewed. A high window or exalted viewpoint.” [...] From this room a large plate glass window looks down on West Water Street, and Tom is in the habit of watching the busy activities on the main street below. [...]

[...] A window, or indication of an open viewpoint, or station from which activities may be viewed. A high window or exalted viewpoint.

(From the back window of this second-story room, a view can also be had of the river.

[...] When I got home at 11:45 I washed several windows at Jane’s request; they certainly needed it. [...] The pendulum told me my situation was related to the fact that I stopped painting early, the windows, my worries about Jane, my age—the whole bit, in other words, so that I ended up thinking I’d accomplished precious little over the years. [...]

[...] This noon, for example, after going downtown, leaving your painting, you found that Ruburt wanted a few more windows done, and the innocent window became a symbol, combining the idea of chores with your fear: if anything happened to you, who would do the chores for Ruburt? [...]

Perhaps two windows also on the south side; though I am not sure these are windows on the south side, but window shapes in any case. The others are windows. [...]

[...] I have the impression of a classroom, large with many windows on one side of the room… (Long pause.) Facing west, the windows facing west.

(Jane had been housecleaning, and to air the place out all the windows were open, still, at session time. [...]

[...] You would also end up enlarging some windows for your work areas. Ruburt would, incidentally, as he said, plop down at the largest window.

You think the green house by the river was too much a box—but it was its open air of hospitality that bothered you—the wide windows open to the street. [...]

In the Foster house you would find yourselves having to open the place up, and you would find triumphant joy when the windows worked. [...]

[...] The windows do not open. [...]

[...] With a young agile man, I’d climbed up the rough outside red brick wall of an apartment house—several stories up, at least, and climbed in through a window into my own apartment. [...] Now, I refused to go back out the window and down the wall, like a fly or an animal might. Instead my companion was assigned this job: Each day his task was to climb back out the window with perhaps three looseleaf volumes of the Seth material tucked under one arm. [...]

[...] In the living room again, standing by the bookcase and looking out the windows, she felt nothing. Standing by the windows and looking into the room however she was once more aware of strong pulsations. [...]

[...] She felt “intensities” now in various parts of the room—notably by the built-in bookcase at the far end of the room from the windows. [...]

[...] Sitting on the couch with her back to the windows, Jane said she felt “scary” about going into a trance now. [...]

(Jane didn’t see any buildings in the accident location, no lighted windows at night. [...]

There are times when windows “appear in the heavens,” when it is easy for you to get, say, to the moon in a spaceship—and so, again from your viewpoint, there are better times for psychological windows to open, and psychic pathways. [...]