“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(I worked on Dreams this morning. The day was cold — about 22 — when I left for 330 at 12:30. I’d just turned Jane when the phone rang. It was someone called Danny Olson, from a small town in Missouri. He’d sent some home-canned jars of fruits and vegetables at Christmas time; for the past year he’d also written a string of long letters signed “me,” meaning I couldn’t answer him to say thanks for the stuff. He’d done the same thing the Christmas before last, also.

(Today he told me that he’d found out Jane was in a hospital from someone he writes to in one of the Carolinas, so he called our area hospitals until he learned which one Jane was in. A simple procedure, and one I hope others don’t pick up from him. I don’t think he’ll call back, though he may. We ended up in a rather acrimonious conversation in which I hoped I’d alienated him enough so he’d not bother my wife or me.

(I also ended up with familiar feelings — to the effect that it’s impossible for Jane and I to ever live up to the fantasy pictures others may build up of us. I’m quite aware of the contradictions in our own behavior, too, as I told Jane after the half-hour conversation was over: We put our work out into the arena where it’s available to anyone, and hope they’ll pay attention to it. Then when they do, sometimes it turns us off.

(People’s reactions are too varied, I’ve learned, for us to expect them to behave as we want them to. We must be afraid of that. But I wasn’t pleased when Danny exclaimed, “Damn you, Rob, I want you to be as open with me as I am with you.” He quite forgot that he shouldn’t project his own feelings upon someone else who could be quite different. It made me wonder, as I drove home, what some people did before they came across the Seth material, or my own thinking. Who did they emulate then — how did they fill their lives, with what heroes and heroines? One thing is certain: They didn’t write books or develop an original philosophy of their own. They’re quite content to leap upon the work of others, and to get mad at them because they — meaning Jane and me — don’t react the way we’re supposed to. They also forget, or don’t understand, that being the way we are led to the creation of our work. If we were different people, the work would be different — or might not exist at all.

(While I was on the phone an attendant brought us a letter from Sue Watkins. When I opened it I found a check for $1,000 made out by Helen Granger Park. “What’s Miss Bowman sending us money for?” I asked Jane. I was momentarily confused — for my art teacher in high school in Sayre, Pennsylvania had been Helen Bowman, until she married later in life and became Helen Bowman Park. I’d always called her Miss Bowman. It turned out that the Helen Park who had written had read Maude’s article in Reality Change, and sent the check to Sue to forward to us, to make sure we’d get it safely. That Helen Park lives in Austin, Texas. I may call her tonight, and Sue also. I told Jane I didn’t know whether to attach any significance to the two Helen Parks or not. Money was involved with both people, since my Miss Bowman had lent me the money to go through art school in New York City. I had repaid her during my three years of military service during World War II.

(At about 8:30 last night, Jane said she’d had a very vivid “experience that was pretty real,” in which for a few seconds she found herself cavorting in very clear and shallow water, feeling really free and enjoying herself greatly. She could see the pebbles beneath the water, and so forth. She slept well afterward. No temperatures were taken last night or this morning. She went to hydro around 10:00 a.m. and was back by 11:00 for a change.

(4:00. A new lady took Jane’s blood pressure, which was normal.

(4:05. A student took Jane’s temperature — and it was up to 101.

(Jane began reading yesterday’s session at 4:06, and did so-so. I helped her at times. I began sorting mail. When Jane was finally through she said she wanted to have a short session.)

Please do lovingly remind him (Jane sneezed) to trust his body and its processes. You both can be of great help to each other, when one or the other is worried or upset. Trust in the body automatically quickens all healing processes, and this session can put Ruburt’s mind at rest. He has only to take my words to heart.

(4:27 p.m. Jane seemed to feel better for having the session.

(Then I called Sue in Dundee to thank her for forwarding the check, and we talked for at least half an hour. The upshot of all of the activity is that I was late getting to the typewriter, and it’s now 11:20 p.m. as I finish this session. Sleep well, Jane.)