“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

With winged brains
We swoop and swirl
Inside the blue bell
Of the outer world.

(A note by R. F. B.: Jane was 32 years old when she wrote this poem in April 1961. It clearly foreshadows certain ideas in the Seth material, which she was to begin delivering 19 months later. With Winged also makes interesting reading along with the verse from her much earlier poem, Summer Is Winter; see page 1 of Volume 1 of “Unknown” Reality).

With Winged

[...] Jane insisted the drawing represented a moose; she interpreted the spread of the eagle’s wings as stylized antlers. My tracing is quickly done on page 217, and shows little detail, but the drawing on the actual object is very well and finely done, including individual feathers on the wings, etc. [...]

[...] Her opinion on the drawing had not changed; she still regarded the drawing as that of a moose, with the eagle’s wings representing stylized antlers. As for the rest of the drawing other than the wings or antlers, she said she couldn’t see anything in it “in particular” that represented an eagle.

[...] These are excerpts from succeeding impressions as a group, and are given here because Jane thinks the bending over idea here derived from the way the wings of the eagle bend in and down toward each other; they are together, or close, at the base, and in the center of the object.

[...] Jane said, again, that she believed the bending over idea expressed here stemmed from the bending of the eagle wings.

[...] I do not flap my wings. I have no wings to flap.

[...] Holding her arms outstretched she moved them up and down like wings.)

[...] I will also tell you, Joseph, that with my voice I am like a bird trying out its new wings. [...]

winging their way

[...] The staff people had had a lunch of chicken wings and pizza, which I’d told them to order, treat on me. The pizza was delicious, but it turned out that the wings were prepared with a hot sauce, meaning hot peppers, that not everyone could enjoy, Jane and I among them. [...]

My mind’s wings

Maraba Iraqua was your name, and you put about your body the dead wings of birds and danced about the image. [...] and used their wings, dancing about the image. [...]

You are filled with questions about when and where the various species appeared, and how the rocks were formed, when some reptiles grew wings, when some fish emerged from the oceans and learned to breathe air, and you are bound to wonder what happened in the times in between.

How many reptiles tried for wings, for example, and failed, or could not fly—or how many millions of reptiles did it take, and how many trials, before the first triumphant bird flew above the landscape? [...]

I saw from a wren’s tipped wing

(At noon Georgia brought in a heaping plate of lasagna, salad and chicken wings, which I hardly ate in all the excitement. [...]

[...] Therefore he does not fear (?) them and his wings are not strong wings.

[...] Part of it stuck out like wings, though they weren’t wings. [...]

This private probability
isn’t half bad
when you consider
the public worlds
we had to travel
to get here:
molecules waiting
in the wings,
looking for
the precise
time-space
to leap into,
tiny strands of
consciousness
reuniting
after centuries,
sorting out ourselves
from a million
other forms
we’ve taken part in—
reassembling
just those we wanted
to call Rob and Jane.

[...] However, I am afraid that we must temporarily clip his wings, for indeed he would go too fast, too soon.

[...] Your house is perfectly set up, however, so that if you wanted to it can be expanded to suit further needs: the large center portion (gesturing) serving as your communal living quarters—this area—and with some creative extensions you could have quite appropriate separate working wings at either end, providing you both with more work space, feelings of privacy, and esthetic pleasure. [...]

[...] Let your consciousness indeed take wing. [...]

Propel our wings.

Doubts wings, land and water

[...] The intellect has been denied its wings. [...]

[...] Because mass events are concerned there is not a completely different year, of course, for each individual on the face of the planet—but there are literally an endless number of mass-shared worlds of 1980 “in the wings,” so to speak.

[...] Quite without knowing it, the personality decided to try its wings, figuratively speaking. [...]