“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(The mail from Prentice-Hall is increasing considerably, whether or not this is in line with Seth’s recent statement that an increase in sales of the books is under way. Batches of fan mail have arrived the last three days. Already I’m way behind, and feel that I’ll never get it answered. In fact, today was the first day in 330 that I didn’t answer at least a few letters from readers. It gave me a strange feeling of freedom; the afternoon seemed stretched out, or longer. I believe I’m on the point of renouncing the fan mail, or most of it. Perhaps I’ll take the time from Dreams to work out a final fan letter — including Seth’s — to send folks who write. One I can sign, and that’s it.

(Much of this we’ve gone over before, at various times. Jane began by talking about how her mother, Marie, told her at puberty that she had bad blood in her from her father [Delmer], that he had syphilis. Jane was frightened at having her periods and talked to a nun about all of it — and the nun would have her own hangups, probably; Jane didn’t say, or perhaps remember.

(She identified with writing poetry very early in life. “I believed what I wrote, but people said I’d grow out of it and have kids, and I was determined not to.” Had trouble sharing poetry with most boyfriends; smarter to play dumb, she discovered. Marie had always encouraged her poetry, and the two women shared it for a number of years. Jane used to write poems to get back in Marie’s good grace: “At the same time I felt like I was betraying myself for doing it. I remember that quite well.” I didn’t remember Jane telling me this before, though she might have.

(Jane was terrified a couple of times that she might be pregnant by me. Yet except for one time in a passionate moment she never had any urge to have a child. “But I certainly felt the feminine part of you was the part you couldn’t trust,” she said. As we talked about these things she said she was getting edgy and nervous, and wanted a cigarette, so we were getting close to buried feelings.

(3:35. She was again nervous and edgy, and had another smoke. She talked about having a session to put it all together. She described again all those visits from Father Trenton. She talked about how the one priest who put her to bed when she was but 3 or 4 years old would “play” with her sexually, and how Marie finally figured that out. This was the one who called her up while we lived together; he was old and living in a retirement home south of Pennsylvania, I believe. She described how Father Trenton sat with his back to Marie when he was mad at the mother, and how Father Rakin made advances to her. She grew up in a male-dominated world. The first time they met, Jane said Father Rakin said to her when she was but 13: “You’re just too forward.” A nice greeting, and one Jane obviously still remembers. She realized today, while talking, that her grandfather had no love for women either. And Marie said to her: “You were a nice kid until you turned about sixteen — then you turned into a bitch.” Several times in Florida she thought I was going to leave her. I wasn’t.

To a child, play and work are often one and the same thing, and parents can utilize imaginative games as a way of reinforcing ideas of health and vitality. When a child is ill-disposed or cranky, or has a headache, or another disorder that does not appear to be serious, parents can utilize this idea: have the child imagine that you are giving it a “better and better pill.” Have the child open its mouth while you place the imaginary pill on its tongue, or have the child imagine picking the pill up and placing it in its mouth. Then give the child a glass of water to wash the pill down, or have the child get the water for himself or herself. Then have the youngster chant, say, three times, “I’ve taken a better and better pill, so I will shortly feel better and better myself.”