“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(However, her knees appear to be swinging back and forth even better, which is an excellent sign, and she can still sleep lying on her left side. Her decubiti continue to worsen, though, and I wonder what the limits are here. A new spot is opening up on her lower back, and I can tell that it’s caused by pressure against a pelvic ridge —and, ironically, I think, it could have gotten its start because she exerts new pressure on that spot from lying on her side.... Today I went back to applying peanut oil massage to her knees and wrists and knuckles. We haven’t used the vitamins, or cod liver oil, for several days now, and as usual I feel a sense of frustration over this, coupled with an unsureness as to whether any such routine should be too rigidly adhered to. But I regret seeing what may be chances of help being passed by, and these feelings are, I’m afraid, based on our lack of specific knowledge.

(“When I get comfortable in my chair, then I start drifting,” Jane said as I worked on these notes. “I go to sleep....” And she did it again. She woke up confused: “Didn’t I have a cigarette going? I thought I did....” She’d gone through the same reaction re smoking earlier in the evening. Finally I did read the session to her. “I’m sitting here feeling funny in the funniest fashion,” she said, “without being able to explain what I mean.” We had snacks of toast and milk and headed for bed shortly after 10 PM.

(A note: Michaellen Grangier, a woman in her 30’s, who has muscular dystrophy, visited last night. I talked to her on the back porch until I got pretty chilled through [temperature was in the high 30’s]. She’d sent us a tape a few weeks ago—which we haven’t played yet—and has done some writing for Reality Change—Maude Cardwell’s Seth newsletter published in Austin, Texas. Michaellen is to return to California today. She left Jane a couple of tapes of songs [by others] and a piece of healing quartz. For the past week she has been visiting a relative who lives on Underwood Avenue here in town—not much more than a stone’s throw away.

(“What are the chances of that happening?” I asked Jane. “They must be very much against it, mathematically. Here someone who’s associated with Reality Change, way out in Texas, and who knows about us through our work, has a relative who lives on Underwood Avenue.... incredible.” I added that even she must have been surprised when she first heard of us and realized that we lived in Elmira; she couldn’t have known, then, that we lived that close to Underwood Avenue, where she had a relative.