“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(The day was cold—34 degrees—with a coating of half-frozen snow on everything; it had been accumulating through the night. I drove carefully to get to 330. Jane said she had things to tell me as I turned her on her back. She ate a good lunch, even though dietary had left the ice cream off the tray.

(After lunch I reminded Jane that a very important point to remember is the return, the beginning, of a number of her automatic gestures and impulses that she’d let go years ago. Such as her impulse to hold a cigarette in her right hand again, or to reach out with her left hand to scratch her right thigh, or to hold the cup she uses in the morning to rinse out her mouth while the nurse does her teeth. Jane does hold the cup now, but wants to hold it for the entire operation now, she says, which takes several minutes.

(3:20. Jane did some mild motions with her left foot and her head and shoulders. “Is the door closed?”

(3:25. Jaw dropping and rotating, accompanied by some guttural sounds. Left foot moved. “I’m doing something with my hips—I don’t know what....” She rested.

(3:55. “The big joint underneath my right toe tingles like mad,” Jane said. Left foot moving, head and shoulders. Grunts and groans.

(I turned Jane and massaged her with Oil of Olay as usual. She ate well after I’d had a nap. She began to have a few tears as we read the prayer together before I left at 7:10; she said she cried because I was going. I told her that when I was alone at the house I often imagined her there too. If I was in the writing room, say, I think of her in her own writing room, or the kitchen or the breezeway—or even walking, doing the dishes, perhaps, or turning on the TV. I love you, Jane.)