“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.

(Yesterday Jane had what was probably her worst day yet—very uncomfortable indeed; she was in “a crisis situation,” as she put it. It was only too obvious. If prolonged it meant the hospital, or God knows what, but we had to do something. “If you love me,” she said, “comfort me like you would an animal, for I really need you.” And I tried to. I slept with her last night—fitfully, but it helped. She didn’t know how she’d get through the night, she said, but she made it. Her ass and buttocks and lower spine are a disaster area as far as bedsores go—much worse than previously, and, I told her, they must represent an exact replica of her inner state. How could it be otherwise? Such was the state to which we were reduced.

(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.