“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(2:45. She began moving about on the bed. I rubbed her neck in that certain spot and her head began to flop back and forth as it has been doing. She did a lot of grunting and pushing, and had movement in her belly and hips. Then her knees wanted to get into the act, and her feet and toes.

(Dawn came in to take Jane’s temperature—97.5—to start the daily round of vitals, at 3:30. At 4:00 Jane told me to get out my pad in case Seth came through. She began to flex her arms. She did especially well with her head and right arm, then the feet began to move. “Then my feet get hot,” she said, then exclaimed in pleasure, “Look how fast it’s going”—meaning her left big toe. Then all of her toes began to move to various degrees. Jane’s head began to lift repeatedly off the pillow. Groaning and straining, making hoarse sounds of effort, she began to struggle to move her whole body. I could see the effort travel up her left leg into the hips and her belly. “The whole body is trying to move,” I said, “as though you’re trying to move it in a dream.”

(4:24. Once again she began noisily moving her head and torso from side to side—her best effort yet—the motion having repercussions in her belly and hips, legs and feet. I suggested she not overdo it.

Timewise and symbolically, the third scene brings us to the point where Ruburt is determined to defend his art, his dedication, to such an extent that he hides from the world, and symbolically crawls on his belly, all the while seeking to escape the dilemma by finding an open door, or by hiding from pursuers in the shadows. [...]

[...] She is tired of crawling on her belly, for whatever reasons. [...]

(At 4:05 I took away her ashtray from her belly because her right arm needed the room to move. [...]

[...] It looked liked her left arm was straightening out a bit at the elbow and it moved rapidly in a tight circle over her belly. [...]

[...] Some men, maybe police, come in and we hide in the shadows; a door beside is going to open so we get down and drag ourselves on our bellies to another door at the end of the room to hide in the shadows. [...]

[...] The effort of the new motion showed in her hip and thigh and belly, tensing all of those muscles. [...]

[...] Her belly was tense with the effort. [...]

[...] Since she’s been in the hospital she’s always handled cigarettes with her left hand, leaving her right hand lying unused across her belly. [...]

[...] I was cynical on occasion (pause), but I had the good sense to know when I was well off—and I did not make my poor belly pay in its corporal innocence. [...]

[...] What’s the reincarnational background of Jane’s symptoms; and why does she still hold her right leg so tight against her belly, after all this time following the break at the knee?)

[...] The other is that at 4:27 Jane called my attention to a new motion of hers: She reached across her belly with her right hand and down to the bed on her left side, to pick up a smidgeon of tobacco or bread crust. [...]

(At 3:40 Jane asked me to take away her cigarette and the ashtray on her belly. [...]

[...] But even the natural prey of another animal does not fear the “hunter” when the hunter animal is full of belly, nor will the hunter then attack.

[...] Even her arms remained pretty passive, folded across her belly. [...]

[...] “Now it feels like my left thigh and belly is trying to straighten out,” she exclaimed. [...]

[...] Then abruptly I felt my whole body swing headfirst to the left, then to the right, as though horizontally pivoted at the belly. [...]

[...] At her suggestion, she tried eating same from a paper plate on her belly. [...]

(Yet she could rotate her arms, one hand circling the other above her belly, in a way that she hadn’t been able to do for, literally, months—years perhaps—certainly since she began going into hospitals. [...]

[...] I said that the truth of the matter is that no one paid the slightest attention to the pendulum lying on her belly, nor even understood what she was doing. [...]

(I should have added earlier that at lunch today Jane had me place the paper container of beef Spanish rice on her belly, so that she could feed it to herself with a spoon, left-handed. [...]

[...] It’s as though I wait for the material to fall into a slot; then Seth, who’s here” — she touched her belly — “deals with it.”

[...] After we’d read our prayer together I saw to it that she had her call button laying across her belly so she could use it. [...]