“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

That basic impetus toward survival came to take precedence over everything else. Indeed, for several weeks following the initiation of the challenges I relate in the essays, supposedly creative activities like writing books and painting pictures often faded into insignificance by comparison. And for me, Jane’s condition came to stand for everything we don’t know in our particular joint, chosen, probable earthly reality.

And amid all of this frenetic activity our painting and writing—those activities we’d always regarded as the creative hearts of our lives, the very reasons we’d chosen to live on earth this time around—had receded into a far distance, so that they’d become like dimly remembered dreams, or perhaps actions practiced in probable lives by “more fortunate” versions of ourselves.

[...] I haven’t been able to get back to painting since Jane left the hospital, and I’ve had to hire help to mow the grass. [...]

[...] I painted in the mornings, searching for a peace of mind that I couldn’t obtain in any other way. [...]