“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(At 4:30 PM Jane told me to get the notebook. Finally. “Well, it’s five days since we sat for the last session, on,” I said, “and we’ve accomplished nothing.”

(I think my wife is in bad shape. I note this aside from whatever changes may be taking place in her, as Seth has repeatedly maintained recently. Jane has slept just about all of each day, sitting in her chair, since the last failed session. Last night she was in agony in bed—all night. Our sleep has been very irregular. “Bob. I’m so scared,” she said to me at 6:30 this morning when I went in to get her up. I was filled with impotent rage at the turn events have taken for us, but said little. Her bedsores are worse daily. She’s refused naps in the afternoons, to give them a little rest. Hallucination has also been involved during the daylight hours—or at least disorientation.

(Jane does no “work” at all any more. She hasn’t touched Seven III. I couldn’t understand why she wasn’t calling upon her creative powers to her help out of the tragic situation she’s created for herself, and me. Even if I’d helped her create such a lifestyle in the past, unwittingly, I was certainly dead-set against it now, and had been for several years. I was constantly appalled and amazed that she’d let her seemingly hopeless condition and situation drag on day after day, until such a crisis point as we now faced was reached, where we now had little room to maneuver.

(I’d raked leaves this morning—it’s been a beautiful day—while waiting for family to show up. Just before going outside I’d told Jane a capsule of my current thinking—that we were at the end of the line that she was going to end up hospitalized again, or in an institution where she could receive constant care. I could see no way out. I’d mentioned while she was still in bed this morning that I was going to call Dr. Kardon tomorrow morning, and tell her I wanted Jane back in the hospital. “What are you trying to do?” my wife cried out, “shock me into getting better?”

(As usual, I said a lot of things in the short time we talked before company arrived. That she was again telling me that she was getting better when I could see that she was getting worse. Even Seth did this. The same old story, I remarked. I added that I no longer believed the later sessions, in which Seth had talked about her getting better by the holidays this year, or her having turned a corner in probabilities. How could any of that be true? I had a million questions, and felt almost totally frustrated trying to get answers. Why, Jane, why? Again and again, I thought of resistance, of the sinful self putting up roadblocks, no matter what the consequences. And it seemed to me that certain parts of her personality were quite ready to continue such behavior until death—the final end, the dissolution in which host and ailments disappeared together, and all conflict was resolved. Was this to be the “redemption” Seth had talked about a couple of years ago, and that I’d tried to deal with in the intro for Dreams? I thought it likely. I told Jane I wouldn’t be surprised to walk into the bedroom some day and discover that she had simply died during the night, so resolving her challenges. An understandable-enough resolution, I said, and one I couldn’t argue with basically, since such a course could logically be the one chosen by some personalities—but it was also one that I didn’t choose at this time.

(I got a horrified reaction from Jane in the bedroom this morning when I’d mentioned the hospital to her, and that I was reaching a turning point in my struggles to care for her myself. Seth had recently said the hospital experience had been a traumatic one for Jane—so why was she doing again the very things that could lead to a return to that situation? Once again, a mindless resistance seemed to be the answer, at least from my standpoint. “Once again,” I said, “whatever it is, I know you’ll accept it, since it’s the reality you’re creating. And once again, I’m the one who’s pushing you to use your own abilities to save yourself, meaning at least trying to learn what’s going on through the sessions, for example. You should be telling me what to do—not the other way around.... But it’s impossible for one person to save another if they don’t want it that way.”

(After family left we sat at the card table, and to my surprise Jane told me to get the notebook. I gladly did so. She hallucinated a tree and other objects as I worked on these notes. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to get into it, or if I do he won’t have anything to say.... But okay....” Off came her glasses.)