“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

This afternoon Jane said she’d learned from Seth that we’d come down with those indispositions because we wanted to use our bodies’ immune systems; those structures needed the workouts, in other words. I’d had a vaguely similar thought this morning, and it had reminded me of my feelings on Saturday night—that our friend’s continual sneezing amid the group was actually a prolonged act of aggression.

When Jane began the session her voice was a bit rough and very quiet, but by listening closely I could understand Seth well enough.)

Now, your friend had been to the Olympics (last month, at Lake Placid, New York), and he was charged by the great physical vitality that he felt watching that athletic panorama. [Because of that, and for other personal reasons], he could find no release for the intense energy he felt, so he got rid of it, protected himself, and threw out his threatening biological posture: the viruses.

(“Thank you, Seth. That was very good. Good night.”)

(9:35 P.M. “Jesus, I didn’t know whether I could do it or not,” Jane said, “but I felt all that stuff there in a great big block, and I just had to get it out. I like it when I do that. I also like it when I don’t have to.” So once again I’d seen it happen: Jane had done very well with a session when she’d felt poorly beforehand. Although her voice had remained muted, her delivery had increased in vigor and emphasis as the session progressed. It was as though she’d acquired an infusion of energy from Seth—yet once the session was over she announced that she wanted to go to bed.)

1. Seth first mentioned viruses in the 17th session for January 26, 1964, when I asked him to comment upon the recent deaths of our dog, Mischa, at the age of 11, and of a pair of kittens Jane had obtained from the janitor of the art gallery where she worked part time. (The kittens had the same mother, but had come from successive litters.) I was 44 and Jane was 34, and in conventional terms both of us were still struggling—not only to learn about ourselves and the world, but to find our creative ways in that world. Seth’s answer to my question was more than a little surprising and saddening to us, and opened up a number of insights:

“The particular atmosphere surrounding your personalities just prior to the animals’ deaths was destructive, short-circuited, and filled with inner panics. I do not want to hurt your feelings. That is, I am sorry to say, a natural occurrence on your plane. The fact is that the animals caught your emotional contagion, and according to their lesser abilities translated it for themselves.

“In the cats’ deaths, both cats inherited the peculiar illness, which was a virus, that killed them. In the case of the first cat, you were able to reinforce its strength and maintain its health for quite a while, and then you needed your energies for yourselves. The second cat barely enjoyed such reinforcement at all, and quickly succumbed.

“Your dog’s illness was incipient. You could not have maintained his health for many long years in any case. I would like to make clear, of course, that animals certainly do have energy to maintain their own health, but this is strongly reinforced as a rule by the vitality of human beings to whom the animals are emotionally attached. The fact is, you were not able to give your dog that added emotional vitality at a time when he needed it most. There is no need to blame yourselves. It was beyond your control.

“Animals, like people, sense when they are a burden, and the dog sensed that he was a burden, and also something of a nuisance. I would have preferred that you did not ask me this question, but since you did, and since you both loved the dog, it deserves an answer.”

Mischa, who was part shelty, or Shetland collie, was the last dog we’ve had. He certainly was a true companion to us. Even now, as I write about him over 16 years later, I feel a strong emotional pull toward him.