“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Georgia called at about 11:30 this morning. Jane asked me to come down to 330 early, so I did. I was working on Chapter 9 — just starting it — of Dreams. Just as I was opening the garage door, I met a woman who had pulled into the driveway, who has a tumor and wanted to see Jane. She’d written us several times and I stopped answering after a while.

(I talked to her for a few minutes, saying I had no choice but to leave. I heard her car radiator boiling, though it wasn’t leaking. She followed me down the hill and into the service station there, where I waved goodbye. I said I’d probably received her latest letter, but hadn’t answered mail for some time.

(Strange, I said to Jane when finally I got back to 330. Maybe the whole insurance mess will be reopened in more confusion. I should have known that the calm of the last few months was deceptive. Our bill has run up again to around $55,000 — and here insurance hasn’t been sending me any checks. My idea that the hospital might be billing them quarterly or something like that must have been wishful thinking. I’m going to forget the whole business if at all possible.

(3:36 p.m. The “ashamed” bit was new to me. “That’s probably why I had the session,” Jane said. She said she’d felt ashamed of the panic at times, and agreed with me that if the shame was used to possibly suppress the panic, it — the panic — would last longer.

(I’ll have to admit I was surprised when my wife said she felt shame at the panic. I hadn’t thought there was anything left for her to hide from me — but upon reflection I saw that her behavior was quite typical, quite secretive. Maybe I should have figured something like that was going on — but on the other hand, how can I be responsible, except possibly in a minor way?

(It’s events like this that make me despair, for once again I see Jane going along in the same old way, and wonder what, if anything, has been learned out of all of this. How can one say much has been learned, I wondered, if my wife is at death’s door, and is currently starving herself? Each challenge we have to meet and surmount is at a lower level, and simply to break it or surmount it leaves one only back at the next level from which the fall took place. There’s never a surge up a few rungs on the ladder, from which we can look back in triumph.