“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(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.

(“I never had any doubts that way,” I said. I told her I thought there must have been many times, or “openings,” in these past months when she could have had a session. That we didn’t do so is part of the problem, of course. Personally, I had been alternately angry and not caring because of our lapses, when we had avenues of help available that few could rely upon, yet hadn’t bothered to use them.