“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Today we resumed the vitamin and cod-liver-oil therapies, which we’d let go last week, in the face of what I had taken to be Jane’s resistance. That had made me angry: I felt that it at least offered an avenue of exploration, that perhaps we could use it as an avenue for changing beliefs. Characteristically, she didn’t ask to resume it herself; I did this morning. I felt it offered hope, simple as it really is, and I couldn’t figure out what she was going to do without hope—without the sessions, without using her own abilities, without accepting some kind of reinforcement from anyone else.

(Today she was much improved, psychologically, at least, and so was I. We talked off and on for much of the day, between interruptions like Rusty and Hal dropping in, my going shopping, etc. We agreed that from now on the sessions, and Jane’s own sessions, will have to come first in our lives, even before books or deadlines, so we take it from there. “Boy, it sure seems like a strange night to me,” Jane said as we sat waiting for a session at the card table at 8:27. She was restless and quite nervous, lapsing—for the first time—into periods of what approached a sleep state. “What if I try to have the session and nothing happens?” she asked. I told her everything would be fine. Part of the reason we both felt better was that we had made some decisions that offered hope: the food therapy, the sessions, etc. I really believed what I said, and still do.

(Pause at 8:43.) It attracted you—you felt the pull of needed change (with gestures), but this change had a new sense of attraction. Such periods happen often in a lifetime, of course—such intersections into probable realities, where you suddenly feel that the time is particularly right, or can be, regardless of the desperation or need or sometimes precisely because of it.