“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

This is in his living room, or one very much like it, with the same view from the windows. [...]

[...] An initial, an area of color, window shapes having to do with two people, but connected with several circumstances, and with a package, perhaps sent from this address.

[...] Yet I enjoy it, and often take a physical form in order to sit at the desk and look out the window at the countryside.

[...] The moment as you think of it, then, is the creative framework through which you, the nonphysical self, constantly form corporeal reality; and through that window into earthly existence you form both its future and its past.

[...] In an old-fashioned room of the 1700’s, you may look out a window to see an automobile pass by. [...]

[...] Our house on the hill is so well-insulated that we heard the weather’s assaults as though from a great distance, except for an occasional sharp clatter from one of the metal window awnings as its slats vibrated in a blast of icy wind. [...]

(I also glimpsed, later, a woman entering a room through an open window. She stood there inside the window, then went back out the same way.

[...] Jane said this is a reference to the three big windows in the playroom where she teaches at the JCC. Each window is divided up into many small panes a few inches on a side, and all have black molding or frames. [...]

There were windows on the other side of the room. [...]

These windows were not open however, except in periods of stifling heat which came seldom in England. [...]

[...] (Out the kitchen window.)

[...] Also, quickly, I saw clearly the birds on our rooftop, through the living room window.

[...] As convenient aids you will find yourselves imagining, for example, open windows through which you will seem to travel. [...]

[...] Not unless at 8 o’clock in the morning you leap from the rooftops and fly through the windows to your death.

[...] But you will have freedoms within it that you do not have now—not unless at 8 o’clock in the morning you leap from the rooftops and fly through the windows to your death. [...]

(9:34.) I suggest you close your window and turn on the fan....

[...] Snow fell past the windows. [...]

[...] I rolled my eyes and pretended to stare out the window.

[...] Bars at the windows of iron, not in jail.

[...] Because it was a warm night we had a window open. [...]

[...] Right now I’m really blue, my eyes operating poorly; tears warmly close; yet enjoying the dark sky and street as rain threatens… the view of the mountains afforded by the windows; the rock music on the radio; the odd remaining odor of door varnish—deeply loving all of it yet swept through with something like nostalgia. [...]

[...] Actually it was very pleasant in the house, with all the windows and doors wide open. [...]

[...] The windows were open; from a neighbor’s house some distance away, we could hear a phonograph playing, the sound carrying clearly on the heavy air. [...]

Imagine that your fear is a ball and throw it out the window. [...]