“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

I’m married now to a very beautiful, intelligent and much younger lady who in her own unique ways offers me invaluable love, assistance, and reinforcement. I often feel that Laurel Lee Davies, a native of Iowa who came to me from California on August 23, 1985, 11 months after Jane’s death, helped transform me. [...] (We feel reincarnational relationships but have yet to explore them.) Laurel helped revitalize me; our years together have been full and creative and productive—and yes, at times controversial. But always she has helped me, just as, I trust, I have helped her. [...]

Pardon me for using the phrase every so often, but as the years passed and after her two very brief stays in Elmira’s St. Joseph’s hospital, Jane finally came to be deeply skeptical of the value of conventional medical help. [...] Jane named that loving young creature Mischa, and he was to offer her great comfort for years, just as he did to me when later we met. [...] Jane took me to meet her mother in the old double house on Middle Avenue three times. The first time, Marie cursed me from her bed; the next two times she ignored me.

[...] Had he spoken with me after those precious first moments, could Seth have given me information that Jane, for whatever reasons, hadn’t wanted us to acquire from or through him? Did Jane, did Seth, watch me make the two pen-and-ink drawings of my beautiful wife as she lay so quietly in her bed, at peace at last? [...]

But even trying to take into account all that Jane accomplished, I know that while I proofread the galleys of The Personal Sessions as Rick Stack of New Awareness Network sends them to me volume by volume, I’ll still come across material that is new to me. [...] I only know and feel, that the material will help me and others, and I do appreciate the participation of each reader. [...]

I’m sure that Seth and Jane, whether or not they’re together, per se, have each been more than a little amused to watch me at my labors here—but also compassionate and sharing from “where they are now.” I’m pleased to believe that they have psychically joined me as I write this introduction, and that they know I have tried to be objective. I also feel that they will be with me as I enter into this account’s final episode, one involving Laurel’s and my most interesting meeting with a group of visitors.

[...] I still remember asking myself as I trotted along on my 65th birthday on June 20: “Should I still be doing this?” My answer was yes, for that action, free of any other personal responsibility, helped me stay connected with the outside world in my own way. [...] John Bumbalo did me an enormous favor in the hours following Jane’s death. When I came home from the hospital for the last time in a year and 9 months, John went to Jane’s room 330 and very carefully gathered up all of the belongings and artifacts we had accumulated there and brought them to me in 1730: my paintings and drawings, the letters from readers that I had put up on the walls (the hospital never complained), the session notebooks for The Way Toward Health, our books and magazines and newspapers and clothes, the flowers and other gifts from readers and from some of the nurses—all of those things that seem to accumulate almost by themselves as one seeks to create a home wherever that may be.

[...] Later volumes of The Personal Sessions will also include a whole book that Jane delivered for me on the great l7th-Century Dutch artist Rembrandt Harmensz van Rijn. [...] It’s not a Seth book, but one of the three “world view” books from highly creative people in the arts that Jane tuned into on her own as gifts for me. [...]

[...] She came to Elmira with me after I’d begun working for the greeting-card company, Artistic, to look for a place for us so we could move from Sayre and save the time and expense of commuting 30 miles a day, five days a week. [...] When I picked her up after leaving work she directed me to the apartment, and that was that. [...]

[...] She told me how eventually one of the older priests burned certain “forbidden” books of hers in the backyard incinerator, including one she particularly admired: Edward Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. There were other conflicts also, that Jane didn’t reveal to her mother: certain persistent hints and requests as she began to mature, Jane told me more than once, for favors from a young priest that she intuitively rejected. [...]

[...] Yet a year or so after Jane’s death Walt wrote to me, and we began a most interesting correspondence although we were never to meet. Walt gave me background information about Jane’s history, and his own, and the welcome news that he had married again and fathered several children. [...]