“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Moreover, the choice of presenting the material in essay form proved to have one virtue that was more valuable than all the others combined: It allowed us to delve into the events I describe, and “our deep-seated, sometimes wrenching feelings connected to them,” a little bit at a time. Those situations might have been too devastating for us otherwise, too emotionally threatening, too charged for us to present them with at least the minimum amount of objectivity required by the written word. Many of the events and feelings evoked such deep implications of trial and challenge for Jane and me that we were often left with strong feelings of unreality: This can’t be happening to us. At our ages (52 and 62, Jane and I, respectively), why have we created lives with such nightmarish connotations? Why do I have to leave my dear wife alone in the hospital each night, so that I feel like crying for her when I go to bed by myself in the hill house? Why can’t we be left alone to live lives of peace and creativity? And how many millions and millions of times through the ages have other human beings on this planet felt the same way—and will yet? Why are our lives ending like this, when we feel that simply getting through each day is an accomplishment?

[...] Certainly our comprehensions have deepened as a result—yet in the face of that great promise, what was I doing barely able to leave my chair? [...]

[...] I think Jane has made some remarkable gains since leaving the hospital. [...]

[...] While I spend all of this time working on these essays for Dreams, I’m always afraid I’m leaving her alone too much. [...]

[...] Seth put it beautifully a couple of months ago in the session for April 12—the first time Jane spoke for him since leaving the hospital—and I return to it again and again. [...]

[...] My longtime friend and editor there, Tam Mossman, was considering leaving to work for another publishing firm. [...]

[...] This is the second time she’s spoken for Seth since leaving the hospital. [...]

[...] Well, that image cracked and crumbled in the hospital experience, leaving Ruburt with his more native, far more realistic image of himself. [...]

[...] Those two developments could leave her body free to heal itself. [...]

[...] I also knew that my wife feared the effect of the message upon me—for what could the phrase she’d already given me mean, except that her soul had at least considered the possibility of leaving her physical body, perhaps to find shelter in a nonphysical realm? [...]

[...] But usually, I thought, the trouble with having something diagnosed as rheumatoid arthritis is that not only do you have it when you go into the hospital, but when you leave it. [...]

As I wrote in the first essay, “the trouble with having something diagnosed as rheumatoid arthritis is that not only do you have it when you go into the hospital, but when you leave it.” [...]