“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Were you born once in winter,
in Europe’s ice and snow,
when villages were dark at night
and wolves roamed the towering hills?
Or dark-skinned, did your swaddling cry
pierce Egypt’s early dawn?
How many birthdays come and gone,
how many homelands, each your own?
How many loves have whispered through
the patterns of your mind?
How many sons and daughters have grown
from your womb or loins?
What voices merge with mine
to wish you happy birthday,
and what loves within your past
lay out a feast of wine and cakes?

During fall and the winter we will continue long sessions on the inner senses, the nature of matter, time, and also discuss other means by which you may personally experiment.

[...] You should have a good winter, both of you. [...]

[...] Even in winter time I will suggest he take walks, and these should be for pure enjoyment. [...]

The parking is all right, though in winter only one side particularly is permitted. [...]

[...] Again, this represents the best improvement in that area since last winter…

“The view of sky sweeping over our hill makes it much easier to see the great flights of geese heading south for the winter. [...]

(While we’ve been busy with our endeavors, the shortening, brilliantly colored and often warm days of October passed into November and turned progressively colder through the month; we’ve already had more than a little snow since Thanksgiving; and now in a few days [about December 22] winter will officially arrive. [...]

[...] Minnie Finn was killed by a hit-and-run speeding motorist one icy winter day on her way to the corner store to buy the young girl some shredded wheat for supper—a tragedy that Marie never stopped blaming her daughter for. [...]

Finally, then: I was working on this introduction late in October 2002 when Laurel and I were visited by five members of the Houston, Texas, Seth group: Winter Calvert, Theresa Smith, Jim and Debbie Serra, and Yvette Silva. [...]

[...] Jim and Debbie and Winter and Theresa left for the Holiday Inn in Elmira, New York, 15 miles across the Pennsylvania border. [...]

[...] Without intending to, Laurel and Debbie became separated from the rest of us as they stood in back of the car nearest the road, while Winter, Jim, Theresa and I were clustered near the front of the other car as it was pointed toward the house. [...]

If there are angry winter roots / within my many seasons /
a wildness untempered / by reason’s ways— /
a force, weirder and / more elemental than /
autumns demented fervor / (raging yet glorious, orange and /
green leaves splintered, / falling everywhere) /
then, so there is.

Last night was our coldest of the winter, I believe—about 9°—and this evening wasn’t much warmer as we sat for the session. [...]

Now, in the winter time our poor idiotic flower seems, indeed, to be dead. [...]

[...] As I’ve told Jane several times lately, the renewing rain reminded me once again of the wonders of nature, and I thought once again of living a natural life outdoors in the environment of woods and elements, summer and winter. [...]

(Jane’s signing a “contract” to work next winter was a point that completely escaped both of us when her symptoms became aggravated. [...]

[...] If it were not vulnerable to the winter and cold temperature, it would not die, and if it did not die, it could not, again, come back into the earth as a new blossom. [...]

(The incident referred to is as follows: Rob was very sick last winter and spring and into summer. [...]

[...] The water was warm in the winter. [...]

You have both done very well during the winter season. [...]

[...] As a child, one of his tasks was to pick coal along the railroad tracks in winter.)

[...] He said the four of us would embark “on excellent circumstances” this winter but did not elaborate. [...]