“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(“Come out at a quarter to eight,” Jane told me at 7:15, “and we’ll have a session.” She’d mentioned a session earlier in the day, and so had I. At the same time she’d slept in her chair most of the day, and was doing so again at the card table, when I finally got out there at about 7:55. She was partially disoriented when I called her: “I thought I’d already had it,” she exclaimed. “Also, my hands seemed to be a couple of inches away from where they really are....and my feet....”

(Today I’d asked her if she come up with any insights on her own as to why she was still sleeping so much in her chair, even after being home from the hospital for six months. The steadily increased thyroid medication hasn’t seemed to influence the dozing at all, though we’d expected that it would in the beginning. Jane said the question had scared her, because she’d been wondering the same thing. I was afraid resistance was still involved.

(To my surprise, Jane launched into the session before I could finish the above notes; I had to return to them after the session. Considering her sleepy state of a few minutes ago, her Seth voice was very good, her eyes open and dark, pauses as usual.)

(“Okay.” That was the reply I’d expected.

(8:37 PM. Jane was quiet for some time after the session. For the first time in a long while, I’d say, her delivery and manner was much more like the Seth of old —firm and amused and emphatic in turn, and free of tremor, with pauses as usual.

(“I’m real glad I had it,” she said. “I was determined to.” She asked me to wait before reading it to her, “while I get myself together.”

(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.

(I was amused during the visit to learn that “two little old ladies, one who’s interested in your stuff and one who’s a skeptic,” waited in the car in the driveway while Michaellen and I talked under the porch light. She sat in one of the porch chairs while I stood up so I could move about and keep warm. Every so often whoever was driving the car would start it up so the heater would go on. But in the dark night I could see only the hood of the little car, and never the two old ladies. The car could have been sitting there running itself as far as any other signs of life were concerned. We talked so long the two ladies must have become quite impatient waiting.... Michaellen and I embraced and kissed as she said goodbye, and I wondered what her companions thought of such behavior between strangers, right out there under the light.