“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

The dawn comes without my knowing

the dawn comes, the day goes

the dawn comes,

Dawn is breaking.
Why should I lie in bed
worrying about my body or the world?
Before time was recorded
dawn has followed dusk
and all the creatures of the earth
have been couched
in the loving context
of their times.

[...] Dawn and Judy came in to check Jane’s vitals. Gail and Dawn clowned around with a wheelchair. [...]

“It is a gift, a boon, an exquisite pleasure, to become physically alive on your functioning planet, couched securely within your dusk and dawn, your existence supported by the seasons and by an overall operation of spontaneous order.”

the winter dusk and dawn.

(At 3:56 Dawn came in to take Jane’s temperature—97.3—and her pulse. After Dawn left Jane said she felt motion in her hips for the first time. [...]

[...] Dawn did all Jane’s vitals; pulse 88—a bit slow, she said, since Jane’s is usually fast, up around 100, which is “normal” for her—temperature 98.1—up a little—and blood pressure, about 120 over 68, which is also very good. [...]

(Dawn also said she’d check on the supper tray for us. [...]

[...] Ruburt should definitely now concentrate on his book during the night hours, perhaps thinking of poetry toward dawn.

Now, he thought as a child that every night was literally a death, and every dawn literally a rebirth. [...]

Sunday night I slept very well until dawn arrived. [...]

[...] In the dawn of history, in the dawn before history began, man changed form. [...]

A great crazy pre-dawn—snowing like the dickens, wind blowing—and its thundering at the same time. [...]

[...] She rises before dawn and makes herself “a simple quick breakfast” — just so she can read, make some notes, and watch the sky lightening outside the kitchen window. [...]

[...] Like I feel the day knows, when I watch the dawn come.

“I was going back to bed when my last lines suddenly reminded me that I still feel the way I did when I was a young girl; that some part of the dawn does come for me; personally; and that to some extent time didn’t exist before I was born. [...]

[...] But it developed that Jane had one of her most uncomfortable nights in years last night; she woke up often, very stiff, particularly in the dawn hours. [...] Later we wished we’d had the presence of mind to get up at dawn, say, when Jane’s more acute discomfort began.

(9:13.) A child may think “We will go to sleep now”—meaning quite happily that (pause) its own single consciousness also participates in the conscious life and activities of everything else in its environment, so it and the creatures of the night, say, sleep together, and waken together to greet the dawn. [...]

Now the period just before dawn often represents a crisis point for persons severely ill. [...]

[...] His sleeping periods were instead for two or three hours, stretched through the nighttime from dusk to dawn, but alternated by periods of high wakefulness and alert activity. [...]

(To Mary Ellen) I thought the light would dawn. [...]

lord let me remember how it was
when i nudged my skin
against the touch of each new morning
and bounded through
the thick thought-forests
that stretched between dawn and noon,
when like magic my lunch was put before me.
lord let me remember how it was
when i was so new
that i thought i was part of the morning.

[...] You have dusk and dawn. [...]

(After Lorrie and Dawn had taken her vitals at 3:47—temperature 97.6—Jane did have a short session.)

[...] Dawn came in to take Jane’s temperature—97.4—and pulse.