“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Yesterday, Saturday, had been a quiet day for Jane. She didn’t have a session. Debbie Harris had visited the night before. Jane ate well Saturday, and did but a few mild motions with her left foot, head and shoulders, and arms. “Actually, I don’t know what I’m doing.” She dozed or napped several times while I sat beside her, working with mail. She did poorly trying to read the last session.

(Early in the morning, Jane said, she had successfully managed to imagine herself back at 458 West Water Street, cleaning the place, washing the windows inside and out, very agilely climbing about—doing all of those things she’d loved to do, even to hosing down the house from the outside. But when she tried to picture herself doing the same things at 1730 Pinnacle, she didn’t do nearly as well. “Things got all muddy.” We thought this meant that 458 had many more pleasant connotations for her than did 1730 Pinnacle, our current residence.

(“He didn’t seem to do too well with the suggestions you gave in the last session—that he try imagining others commenting on how well he looked and was doing—”)

(4:04 PM. Jane had a cigarette. How interesting, I said, to have new improvements to look forward to! What would they be? Jane didn’t know either. She had me rub those certain spots on her neck that can send her head flying against the pillow—but when I found them there was hardly any reaction at all. Truly, her body wanted to do things in its own way. “Quit pushing it,” I finally said, about her neck. “The body doesn’t want to do that right now....”