“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

I completely forgot our discussion until last night, Friday, when the Gallaghers [our dear friends, Peg and Bill] visited. In a lull of conversation, Peg G. leaned forward and said: “I was at Lib’s Supper Club, and your paintings are still there,” or other words to that effect, mentioning both Lib’s and the paintings.

If she hadn’t mentioned her visit to Lib’s, and the paintings, Rob and I never would have realized that anything beyond usual perception was operating in our little discussion. And the discussion was … extremely clear in my mind.

Rob and I can’t be sure whether our discussion was Wednesday or Tuesday night. Wednesday was the night Peg G. visited Lib’s, and saw the paintings.

If our discussion actually happened Tuesday, before Peg’s visit (which was planned ahead of time), then we run into other possibilities than if our discussion was on Wednesday … (as we thought).

Why didn’t Rob pick up the inner information and begin the discussion instead of me, since they’re his paintings? And how many times do we do this, invisibly winding such data into the fabric of our perceptions, reacting to it without even realizing it?

All of this reminds me of my old idea of a projected book: The Contents of the Mind, or the Unofficial Contents of the Mind. After reading this first page of notes about Peg G. and the paintings, I remember my old ideas … that we organize the contents of our minds along certain lines that then become habitual.

And in such cases we have every right to go with direct experience and our feelings.

So as I listened to our visitor (I’ll call him Larry) talk, I browsed through the letter. My thoughts went back to the years when Ed and Rob produced the detective comic strip Mike Hammer together with Micky Spillane. Then I thought of Ed’s first letter of two years ago, breaking a twenty-year-old silence, mailed from Alaska where Ed was skiing. In fact, the letter before me mentioned the Alaskan ski trip. That might have been the reference that suddenly gave me small shivers.

My eyes scanned the list. Could 3 and 7 — egg carton and milk man — apply to Larry’s grocery store job? These I just marked evocative. Then I thought of another connection with “milk man” — our young fan, Larry, once would only drink milk, he was on a natural food diet — or had been. In fact, I had offered him milk as I went over my predictions … I suddenly remembered something else. That morning before beginning work, I sat at my desk unaccountably thinking about the way Rob and I had met. I had the impulse, for no particular reason, to write about the meeting today instead of writing on this book (The Magical Approach) and spent a good ten minutes thinking about the entire affair. In memory’s quick vivid images I saw the very first meeting:

The stranger who bent his head to our car window was Rob. Ed had recognized my husband’s car and followed us, asking us to go to his house to meet his new work partner, Rob, when I was finished visiting with my mother.

1, 5: In today’s mail letter from Ed Robinson — Probably our 3rd?

*6 Not bad. The man who delivered our new stove from Sears turns out (today) to know us from 20 years ago. He says he lived downstairs from our old friends, Atalie and Lydia Maple who moved away in the mid-1960’s.