“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Today Jane and I visited Key West, some 50 miles from here. We asked about rates at several motels, etc. After the excellent session on Wednesday, February 16, we hoped for good improvements in Jane. Yesterday there were some. Today on the trip she was noticeably slower, had trouble going down a step. We took a nap upon returning. I arose with several questions that I wanted answered in a session tonight; the trouble with steps, why she took a turn for the worse after the tour for The Seth Material, etc.?

(We talked briefly after a late supper.While washing up, Jane told me after she was finished, she “got” that she was worse in Key West because she should have stayed here and worked today. We went to Key West with the idea of possibly spending our last week there, but found prices too high for us, at least on such short notice. After the nap, I suggested we might stay here the next week, to work, have a couple of sessions, etc., and Jane agreed.

(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.

(She said she thought Seth was trying an experiment, that it was better to do it this way. She could feel Seth about, but he was letting her go ahead on her own.)

(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.

Strong moral ideas welded what I am together—welded the creative drives like glue. Part of me was born in Ruburt’s childhood. This part was strengthened by your own ideas of work and creativity. You became the policeman. I relied on you to see that Ruburt’s creativity was channeled and used, protected, but most of all not frittered away.

Your creative drives became a part of what I am, so that what I am includes the strength of both of your creative drives. I believe that you both must write and paint a reasonable amount of time daily. (Pause.) I was always against any jobs that would divert you as long as you were not in dire need, in which case I was willing to suspend my judgment.

You began to change your ideas. I expected them to be unswerving. When it seemed you would not police the two of you with the intense fervor necessary, I began to do so, and took upon myself all those attitudes that had been yours. It was easy. Ruburt is literal-minded in many ways. He looked up to you. The constant suggestions took root, and I used this for my purposes.

There was difficulty with the books. My drive was being met, and yet the money was being used to support a status quo that I could condone only for the first several years in Elmira.

You said once that you would like to live on a mountaintop, and never go out, and just work and have no distractions. Ruburt was carrying this out in his own way.

The more the books were written, the less willing it seemed you were to do what I wanted. The struggle made it difficult even to create for a time. I was caught between using my energies to help Ruburt create, and trying to get money through the creativity for you to quit. This itself hampered the creative drive, hence the dream book difficulty.

You finally began to realize that I wanted you to leave the job (long pause at 9:55), but the negative attitudes that had built up attached themselves to the new projects—something I did not foresee. My power is the strength of both of your drives. (Pause for a cigarette.) I am a part of you, then, the part that always hated your job, and can scarce[ly] forgive you for keeping it so long. I understand it was necessary for a time, but all thoughts of security beyond the daily necessities mean little to me. I want you secure enough to work in peace. Outside of that I have no interest.

(The portion of Jane that was speaking gave no sign that my voice had been heard.)

I am dismayed. I did not think Ruburt would work unless he was chained to his chair, so I chained him, both to do his own work and force you to do yours. Then you both fought me. He did not like working chained, and I tried to make the chains appear as natural as I could. He is not physically harmed to any great degree (one of the questions I wanted discussed tonight, although I never mentioned it to Jane), or maimed. I can say however that for some time I did not care if he was, if these purposes were met. I see now that they would not be, that instead all your time would be spent concentrating upon the condition that was meant as a protection, until no work was done—hence my dismay. I was not appreciated, though I did my best for you.

(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.

(I hoped the portion of her consciousness that had contacted us would now let her have her freedom. Certainly her state at the moment was a good sign. Many yawns at 10:40.

(Jane said she was in an altered state of consciousness as she delivered the material, yet was aware of what she said as she said it. “I felt this real sad ‘Okay, I’m going,’ at the end,” she said. It had wound up confused over what to do, but I thought we could help it understand as the days passed. I thought she was achieving, or trying for, an integration of drives that might be very important. I hoped that the motivations behind it would rise to join her ordinary consciousness.

(As we talked at 10:45 it almost returned. Jane said she got, several times, “and all that for nothing,” so I repeated our ideas. I made it a point to reiterate my statements about freedom being absolutely necessary to us in order to create, and that we requested its help and assistance with these limits or goals in mind. “But I’ll be just as happy, “ Jane said, “if it goes away altogether.” The only concern I had in this respect was that it represented creative drives, if in a distorted form. I wanted the drives to remain with us for our use without limitations, so I wasn’t sure if it should be dispensed with completely.

(“There must have been a fantastic charge behind it,” Jane said between yawns. “For a while there I was as light as air. Already I’m wondering now as I come out of it: am I okay now, am I free? How are my knees going to be when I try to get up?” etc.