“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(When Jane came out of the bathroom after washing, she said several times that she was getting this information, that it had a strong charge behind it, and that she “didn’t know what to do.” She repeated this phrase several times. The feelings wanted to explode, she said. She had experienced similar feelings some other times here in the past week, particularly after the last session, and made an effort to discharge them reasonably by talking. I thought that probably the feelings should be allowed to come out violently, but we were inhibited by our surroundings, and probably fear, etc. At any rate it seemed a great help that we had even reached the feelings. I asked Jane, rather impatiently at last if she could discharge the feelings in a session, as we had planned.

(It was a colder, very windy night here. The wind had been blowing strongly—to 30 miles an hour, and even more—for over 24 hours. We had the heater on in the efficiency. We sat in the kitchen. Jane’s voice was average, so this meant that often I had to ask her to repeat a phrase because the various noises almost drowned it out. She said later that she was in an altered state of consciousness. She knew what she was saying and remembered some of it. Her eyes were open most of the time. Her pace didn’t exceed my writing speed, but often it was close to the limits. A mild anger showed itself at times.

(Long pause at 9:31, eyes open. I didn’t ask any questions.)

(Jane tried to say more. I talked to it, offering reassurances, saying we didn’t require it to leave us, but merely to understand our need for freedom. The physical freedom symbolized creative freedom, I said. To us freedom of motion meant creative freedom. It agreed, as Jane cried. She became very relaxed in her chair, so that I had to hold her upright.

(By 10:25 the tears seemed to be over. Jane felt so limp and relaxed, I told her, that it seemed she had shed two tons of weight. The crippled black cat we’ve made friends with here cried outside our door, so I let him in and fed him. We split a beer. I held the cup to Jane’s lips because she said she was too relaxed to hold it. As I wrote these notes she half lay on her own chair with her head in my lap—a position she hadn’t taken for years. She yawned again and again. She didn’t want to lay on the bed.

(10:55. “I’m not sure I should even think about it,” she said, still yawning, but I think the relaxations reached to about here,” and she touched her legs just above her knees. Previous relaxations, including one yesterday, stopped at her waist. “I can’t understand it,” she said. “I seem to be getting another one after coming out of the first trance... Going back in....” She didn’t, though. I helped her to the john. Afterward she told me her knees felt better than they had in some time.