“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Jane hasn’t felt her best today: She’s had a lot of soreness because of muscular changes taking place. First she decided to see if she could have a session, then at 9:10 she decided against it. But when I said I’d return to typing Monday night’s session, in a rather humorous turnabout she decided to hold a session tonight after all. “If he comes through he’ll be doing good,” she said. “I don’t feel him around.” As I wrote these notes at 9:20, however, she did begin to feel Seth’s presence. “You’re not deserted after all,” I said.

(I must say that I hadn’t expected Seth to discuss the event this evening, nor had I asked that he do so. Also, for someone who wasn’t sure they wanted to hold a session to begin with, Jane’s delivery was excellent — usually fast and quite emphatic throughout.)

I do not mean that the reunion was inevitable or predestined, but the vigor of that probability, you might say, magnified the original tension. I want Ruburt to apply all of this to his own situation, both in terms of creative endeavors and his physical situation, so that he begins to understand that he can start to react in the present to a future recovery.

(Long pause at 10:01.) He can see how important periods of letting go are. Your experience happened when you were nearly asleep, but merely relaxed, not worrying, with your intellect in a kind of free flow. You were not hampering it. It was momentarily free of limiting beliefs, and it naturally used — and chose to use — the magical approach to answer what was a very simple, now-forgotten intellectual question: What might be in today’s newspaper?

(I smiled at Seth as “he” leaned toward me. “I thought so. It’s been very interesting.”)

(10:09 P.M. “Brilliant, hon,” I said to Jane as she quickly came out of her trance state. She was pleased. For someone who hadn’t known whether they wanted a session, she’d done very well, with her delivery being often fast and emphatic. I told her that it looked as though Seth used my newspaper incident to actually summarize in capsule form much of the material he’s been giving us in this latest group of private sessions. “You couldn’t ask for a better demonstration of the whole thing,” I said.

(A note: the way things “work” … On Thursday morning—the day after this session was held — Jane and I saw the three young men referred to in the newspaper article on a well-known variety show. Very interesting. One of them said he’d had “a dream” about having brothers. The others weren’t as definite, but at least indicated they hadn’t felt alone. The TV host never referred to the fact that the three youths were actually members of quadruplets — that a fourth brother had died at birth, according to the news article. Neither did the brothers. I also mentioned to Jane the similarity in the adoptive last names of two of the brothers: Kellman and Gelland.)

I thought of myself as a woman at the mall in Big Flats, near Elmira. As I went through a double revolving door I caught a glimpse of a young man, say in his mid-twenties, who was an exact duplicate of my own son, who I knew was not in the mall, but was away on business of some kind. The shock of seeing my son’s double was so great that instead of chasing him to question him, I had to sit down on a bench to recover. By then the young man was gone. I envisioned myself returning to the mall again and again to see if I could see the person — and finally I did. Either I followed him to his car, then talked to him, or followed him to where he lived with his parents — but he bore an uncanny resemblance to my own son.

I think that the idea of mixups in the hospital came from a book Jane and I have been reading the past week, written by a doctor who warns against medicine, delivery rooms, the whole bit, in the establishment practice of medicine. He wrote that such baby mixups are far from rare. Then as we sat on the couch, I remembered that for the first time in literally months I’d forgotten to bring in the evening paper, so we could look at it while we ate and watched TV. I almost invariably bring in the paper before I lay down for a nap before supper, so Jane can read it while I sleep.