“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] A gift purchased that seems to resemble an object made of very small matchstick-size pieces of material, not necessarily of wood. [...]

(Long pause.) Ruburt had a dream with excellent connotations, in which he looked through a beautiful old house of lovely carved wood and spacious rooms, and decided to move into the house, even though it was in an area that had previously nearly been condemned — signifying that he was indeed rising from beliefs that he condemned into a larger, spacious area of expression.

[...] Some kind of a framework of light wood, that is, lightweight wood.

(November 23, Monday, 11:45 AM: Saw a funny tall cylinder structure covered with red wood. It was not wood inside. [...]

(A note: While taking my usual walk on Crestwood Avenue at about 10 PM last night, I saw a herd of eight deer cross the street; they moved into a small patch of woods that I judged to be just below Stamps’ house on Pinnacle; if they continued on that course they might have ended up crossing Pinnacle right by our own house. [...]

With a floor not of wood, perhaps of cement, but of a stone, definitely a stone or sand colored stone floor.

[...] I saw a nice big studio-type room, quite bare with polished wood. [...]

[...] It shines even upon the wood which has no eyes. [...]

A desk beneath this window, of dark wood. [...]

[...] She is at this point like a child in the woods, but the potentialities are there for an excellent relationship. [...]

A wooded area. [...]

(“A wooded area.” [...]

[...] Dark and wooded, same time of year. [...]

[...] An address and a connection with wood. [...]

(“An address and a connection with wood.” [...]

[...] If the photograph shows you in a room, for example, then think of the room as a peculiar kind of environment, as natural as the woods. [...]

I can tell you, for example, that there is consciousness even within a nail, but few of my readers will take me seriously enough to stop in midsentence, and say good morning or good afternoon to the nearest nail they can find, stuck in a piece of wood.

[...] And Floyd had been right: The raccoon stayed in the tree until dusk, then descended and ambled into the woods in back of the house.³

[...] I’m simply mentioning ordinary activities—chopping a little wood, etc. [...]

[...] As we sat for the session in our “new” den we could hear through the open sliding glass door the mixed chorus of tree toads and various insects echoing through the woods in back of the house, and up and across Holley Road.

[...] Wood, plants, all the species of the earth, the seasons and the planet itself, come from this unidentifiable inside. [...]

[...] I carefully propped up the tree, a balsam fir, in the woods at the back of the hill house. [...]

[...] Some nights the (singing) bugs in the small back woods were louder than the sound of our television set. [...]