“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(After supper I asked Jane if she’d hold a private session for me, since I felt so bad. On Saturday, October 27, I’d evidently come down with a “bug” of some kind —whether physical or psychological, and haven’t felt good at all since. At first I’d thought I was going into a beneficial relaxation episode like that I’d experienced on April 23, 1979. We’d been working hard, and when I lay down for a nap Saturday afternoon I felt relaxation effects. “Thank God for relaxation,” I told myself again and again as I fell asleep, hoping the effects would rejuvenate me. But I ended up with the cold chills, and for the next week was in often severe pain in the joints and muscles. We’d seen recent notices on TV of a local bug going around, but I didn’t know if that was involved or not. The worst part of the whole thing was that I developed urinary difficulties during the malaise: urination became very painful indeed, and I had a strong sense of blockage and impairment at times. I always managed to “go,” but it often took a while, and was very uncomfortable.

(We missed last week’s sessions, of course, and last night’s as well. even though Jane suggested one. My strength was coming back by now, but yet I was too down or disgusted with myself to accent help: that may be the most honest way to put it. The urinary problem still plagued me no end, and tonight the pressure was heavy; hence, I gave in and asked Jane for help.

(During last week Jane told me she’d picked up that my troubles had been set off by the death of Bill Crowder on October 2. Betts didn’t write us about the death until we received her letter of the 25th on the 26th—which date being the day before I became ill. I hadn’t paid more than normal attention to Bill’s death, I thought, beyond feeling sympathy, and speculating with Jane about the money he must have left. Not that we wanted any of it. I hadn’t thought his death could bother me that much, for certainly I hadn’t dwelled upon it consciously at all.

(The little I’ve worked with the pendulum tells me my troubles are rooted in money attitudes, as well as the production time I’ve lost on Mass Events for the last two weeks and more. I thought I was doing something by working hard on that book, to get it underway in an organized fashion, I told Jane as we sat for the session—so what happened? I added that I wouldn’t put up with the kind of hassles involving Prentice-Hall beyond a certain point—that I’d take some kind of drastic action in order to rid myself of the problems connected with dealing with someone I no longer respect. This would involve holding the sessions, but letting Jane herself do any work about producing books for the market. I would go back to painting, try to sell some, and possibly end up with a part-time job for ready money—anything to break the vicious mental pattern of distrust I seem to keep creating. I believe that Jane at last understands that I’m quite capable of reacting that way, that I would refuse to indefinitely put up with our present kind of hassles with Prentice-Hall, or any other entity. I explained that I had such thoughts when we moved to Pinnacle Road, and could easily revive them and try a different kind of life.

Crowder, you think, left a large moneyed estate—far more than either you or Ruburt possess. At the same time, you are more than a little contemptuous of what we may gently call the mental culture of Bill Crowder’s life and mind. A part of you even thinks “Ma is that what you wanted me to be?”

You have made rather sharp definitive divisions between the artistic world and the business world. Such divisions of course do exist. You have perhaps delineated them with a rather thorough determination, so that the contrasts are brilliantly apparent. I am trying to separate these strands, so bear with me.

Give us a moment.... You must realize that I make considerable effort to understand your social mores, and your reactions to them even while I try to clear your minds of them. Much of this, then, is crystal clear to me, but do not put yourselves down because of their effects upon you, I do not have them to contend with.

I would give some thought then to my self-image, and to the image of an individual who is highly gifted as a painter, as a writer, as a thinker, and I would endeavor to loosen myself from any bonds that prevented me from using those abilities—in particular any sexual ones that defined my identity in terms of money alone.