“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Yesterday marked the beginning of Jane’s third week home from the hospital, and lately I’ve been trying to gently encourage her to begin a series of private sessions in an effort to learn what we can about the whole hospital-health-establishment belief system, and our part in it through and with the Seth material. I was eager to get Jane started on a program of self-therapy through the Seth material in order to help her counter—or at least supplement—the standard rigid medical framework we’ve been encountering for the last month, or since she went into the hospital on February 26, 1982. [She was discharged on March 28.]

(I’m also trying to whip up some enthusiasm to begin work on Seth’s latest book, Dreams, “Evolution,” and Value Fulfillment, for which we recently signed the contract, and took money. [The contract was countersigned on March 22.] “Don’t worry,” I said to Jane in the hospital, “I know who’s going to do the rest of the work on the book....” Meaning that I could see she wasn’t going to be able to contribute much physical work on it at this time. Therefore, actually producing the physical work for the publisher was going to be up to me, and I was anxious to begin work on this once we’ve established some sort of viable daily routine revolving around Jane’s nursing care, sleeping schedule, medication, etc.

(Jane still nods off as she sits in her chair, especially after supper, which we take to be an indication that her thyroid is still below par, although she’s much improved in that regard over her condition before she entered the hospital. The drifting off worries her, however. Even as I sat beside her at the round card table in the living room, writing these notes, she kept nodding off into sleep. I’d spent some little time trying to talk her into a short session to begin with, and she’d finally agreed to try for one. It was 8:52 when she really fell asleep in her chair, for perhaps the tenth time. I could see that we’d get no session tonight. Yet she woke up. “I’m just waiting—I feel so funny....”

(The contradictory thing was, as I’d told her the other day, that I didn’t think we were going to get anywhere in solving our dilemmas until we tapped into the session routine again. Otherwise, we’d be left to struggle within the establishment just as everyone else did. Yet each time I wanted to try something, Jane was having difficulty focusing. Just as I was about to give up for this evening, Jane came awake again and said rather firmly, “I’ve passed a certain point, Bob, and now I can do it....” meaning that she’d have a session after all. “But it’ll be a real short one.” And I knew it would be good.

(Jane went easily into trance as usual. Her Seth voice was stronger than I’d expected it to be, yet with an underlying tremor that I’d noticed on a number of other occasions since Jane had returned from the hospital.)

(Pause at 9:10.) To such a degree, of course, the affair was, then, therapeutic. (Pause.) Ruburt is now far more willing to make certain changes in his life than he was earlier, and he sees himself more as one of a living congregation of creatures—less isolated than before, stripped down from the superperfect model, and therefore no more under the compulsion to live up to such a psychological bondage (all with some emphasis). He need not try to be the perfect self, then, the super-image—and in fact to some extent found himself the supplicative (self?), knocking upon creaturehood’s earthly door, as any creature might ask aid from another who found himself wounded through misadventure. He found a mixed world—one hardly black or white, one with some considerable give-and-take, in which under even the most regrettable of circumstances there was (underlined) room for some action, for some improvement, for some decision, for some creative response. The rules of the game have therefore been automatically altered. The issues are clearer, dramatically etched.

(9:25 PM. Jane’s pace had generally been okay, considering the circumstances. “I felt like when I got slow there a couple of times that it didn’t have anything to do with dozing off,” she said, referring to a few longer pauses. “It was just a normal, I don’t know, thing....” I told her she’d done well. “It was more than I thought I could do,” she said, “but I really got worried tonight when I started dozing off like that.” I replied that all along I’d felt she could do more than she’d thought she could, and such had been the case.

(We were both very pleased with the session: It contains many important clues. The arthritis diagnosis, Jane said, would be the only one the medical profession could offer, with its very limited insights and viewpoint—whereas Seth has insisted all along that she didn’t have arthritis per se. I’d wanted him to at least refer to the arthritis subject tonight, hoping that the reinforced suggestions would help Jane mobilize her own strong creative powers. Equally important, too was Seth’s idea that Jane no longer needed to try to be “the perfect self.” Very important.

(A note: I haven’t answered fan mail since bringing Jane home from the hospital on March 28, and already it is beginning to pile up. I kept up with it religiously while visiting Jane each day for the month she was in the hospital. Since returning to the house, though, I’ve had absolutely no time at all for the mail, and have stopped answering it except for business and an occasional exceptional letter, or a request for a visit, etc. I don’t know whether I regret my actions or not. Now the mail has retreated way into the background, even though I don’t forget what it means, that we get such a response from what we do, and that each of those writers is sincere, and in my opinion deserving of an answer.