“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Our time was running out. If, as Seth has repeatedly said lately, Jane was clearing her psyche, then I feared that she’d begun her task too late, mentally and physically. As Peggy J had said today, Jane needed nursing care that neither she nor I could provide now. That leaves but one alternative, and my thought and fear is that if Jane goes into the hospital again, the sessions are over—for good. And who knows what the hell will happen to us for the rest of our lives? Of such ingredients are cosmic farces made, I thought. It can be seen that I was having a hard time to keep from falling into the deep pessimism I’d experienced not long ago, and seemingly had rebounded from.

(9:30. “I’ll have to try something different now,” she said. “Try to think of something.... I’ve got to get up some—I know that—change position or something. You can help me there.” She kept repeating this until I grew irritated: “How in hell am I going to help you change position? You can’t move.” Finally, I pulled her cushion back in her chair as she sat on it. I do this occasionally. The movement, less than half an inch, I’d say, did change physical relationships of body to chair. Jane sat quietly, head down, eyes closed.

(She’d begun repeating this refrain. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” I said, somewhat frustrated and exasperated.

(Yet, five minutes later she was objecting when, in answer to her question about whether I had any suggestions, I repeated my goal to get her into bed. “Yes, I’ve got something to suggest—that you get off your ass and give your poor, poor body a rest,” I said, with some heat. “You can’t abuse the house you live in like that—your feet and legs are terribly swollen. What gives you the right to do that to your body?”