“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(It was still raining when I got to 330 this afternoon; it had rained all of last night and this morning. Temperature around 35 degrees. Jane was in good shape, and ate a good lunch. I told her I had a question for her, and she said she had one for Seth.

(And Jane, now I’ll tell you that as you had a crying spell last night—so have I at various times since you went into the hospital last April. I remember that once I woke up in bed, after midnight, and burst into tears as I thought about you. The spell must have lasted for at least half an hour; it went on and on. Other times I would suddenly begin crying as I ate breakfast, or heard a familiar song on television, or sat at my typewriter working on Dreams. I always knew that these episodes were therapeutic. They began to taper off after you resumed the sessions in early October, and I haven’t had one now—not outright crying—for several weeks. But for a long time—months—I lived with tears just beneath the surface, you might say, as I wondered what was going to happen to us, why you were so sick, what we’d done wrong all those years, and so forth. I learned to live with those feelings, but it was a different kind of life than I’d ever known. For a long while I was resigned to them.

(I dehypnotized Jane as usual with Oil of Olay before taking my nap. She ate a good supper, and I left at 7:05 after reading the prayer with her. The door to the medical arts building was locked, so I couldn’t use that as shelter on my way to the car, which was parked farther away from my usual spot than it usually is. So I had to circle around to it in the pouring rain, and got fairly wet before I reached it. I changed clothes when I got home, before cooking supper. It’s 10:00 PM as I type this last line.)