“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(“I feel gaps in my consciousness,” Jane said, worried. “I’ll start to do something, then I’ll find myself thinking that I’ve already done it—but that means that I’ve dozed off in the meantime, and didn’t do it at all....”

(At first Jane didn’t know what she wanted to—or could—do. She’s fallen into a regular, very narrow pattern of eating, watching TV, and sleeping, either in her chair or in bed, night and day. She reads a little but writes—or tries to—even less. “I’m scared,” she said again. “That dozing off really worries me....”

(“The only other thing I can think of is the thyroid, that it’s still below par,” Jane said. I agreed that had something to do with it, but also felt other, psychological factors were involved. Mr. Wrigley, the physician’s assistant who had called a couple of weeks ago, also visited today to check upon Jane’s decubiti [which are doing well, by the way], so he was here when Peggy arrived. The four of us talked in the bedroom. Mr. Wrigley said that the ulcer on Jane’s coccyx was filling in with “grainy” flesh, which means it’s on the mend also, if slowly. But the entire afternoon had been an active, tiring one for Jane.

(I’d also run errands to the post office, supermarket and drugstore while Peggy assisted Jane, and by the time I got back Peggy had managed to get Jane from the bed back into her chair—but it hadn’t been easy, Jane said later, and she hadn’t been able to describe to Peggy just how I did it myself with little effort.

(“I’m just waiting.” Jane said now, smoking a cigarette as I sat with her at the card table. I’d brought the notebook, as she had suggested I do. Her eyes were heavy, but—“I almost feel something.” she said at 7:25. “Anything,” she said, rocking back and forth in her chair, meaning she was trying to stay awake and would accept whatever she could get. And once again, as we waited I thought that I was the one who’d initiated events this evening, whereas I had trouble understanding why Jane didn’t do more of that herself.

(“I do feel him slightly around,” she said at 7:30. “I’ve been telling myself....” Her voice trailed off, and I could see that she was struggling to stay awake. Yet she did manage to let a session happen. She began speaking for Seth with her eyes closed —but her voice was quite strong, comparatively speaking, with a minimum of tremor. Her eyes were quite dark when they finally opened to stare at me.)

(During the night Jane has also more or less settled into a routine of laying down for a couple of hours, then sitting in her chair for an equal time, and even sleeping in it, then going back to bed. She sips Coke but doesn’t eat. The TV set is on constantly. I usually get up at least three, and usually four, times during the night to help her change from chair to bed to chair, etc.)

(A case in point: When he visited today, Mr. Wrigley said Jane should wear support stockings or bandages around her feet and legs in the daytime, to help reduce the swelling in her feet and ankles. Otherwise, he said, ulcers could develop there also. This frightened Jane, but she didn’t tell me until some hours later. Her feet are somewhat swollen—edema—but look much better than they did last year, say, and their color is normal. She does wear my elasticized winter stockings, which offer some such protective support. These kinds of dilemmas are what bother us about the medical establishment: We don’t know whether to completely ignore such advice, or to heed it and thus accept medicine’s prognosis. I do personally credit the body with having terrific healing powers—especially if, as I said to Jane recently, the body is left alone to repair itself. But obviously, this leaving alone is often very difficult to achieve in that fashion. It may even be, I’ve often thought, that one cannot really leave the body alone, nor be meant to—for the physical body would be a portion of the reality each individual creates, and so is bound to be intimately involved with individual fears, desires, intents, successes, etc.)

He does respond to stimuli rather well. So brief conversations with you on that subject, or on your work in general, or on any subject whatsoever, will automatically quicken his mood and responses. He has of course improved, and in general strength, since returning home—but in the hospital nothing was demanded or expected of him.

(Long pause.) This may be the end of the session. It is possible that after a break I could add more, but we will see about Ruburt’s energies then. For now, I assure you of my own devout (humorously) sympathies—and also offer you my own assurances that your capacities and energies are more than able to see you through this episode triumphantly.

(I’d planned to mow grass for a few minutes after the session—it was dusk by now—but I had to wait. So did Jane: “Now that he said that. I’ll have to wait....” I lit a cigarette for her. I told her the session had lasted for 27 minutes, which pleased her, “since I didn’t think I could get two words out of me to begin with.” But I’d known she could do it.

(“I’m in a sort of transitory state,” Jane said after a pause, “between my own level of consciousness and Seth’s. There will be far more said on such issues, but in the same way, any organization devoted primarily to one large system of beliefs will always highlight the effectiveness with which belief systems operate. But what you see is the end product.”

(“Yeah. I’m glad I did.... I don’t know what I did with that last material. I felt like I could get a lot from Seth, but that was all I could do.”