“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(I was disappointed that Jane ate so little for lunch today. I had started feeling tired when I got to 330, so decided not to press any points. Maybe, I thought, we needed time to recover from the emotions of the last few days especially. I also felt that Jane’s destiny was in her own hands, and that nothing anyone else was going to do would change that. So it is with each of us. Her recovery was up to her, then, although I still puzzled why she carried her situation to such extremes when she said she didn’t want to die.

(Then I read her the Seth part of yesterday’s session, but not my notes. Jane said she felt a little better today generally, and I thought she acted it. “I don’t know if I’ll have a session today or not,” she said, “but keep your paper and pen handy.” And then she immediately began the session. Her words were loaded with emotion, more evenly delivered than yesterday’s session had been, yet still the rhythm wasn’t one of ease and speed.

(“Is that what this has been all about?” I asked, meaning the years of the symptoms. She didn’t answer. I thought it was great that she was expressing deeply-felt emotion, just as I was surprised that she’d spontaneously — seemingly — chosen the subject matter for the session … This had to be good, I said.

(“Well,” I said several times, wherever she is now, I sure hope your mother understands what she did to you. I groped for words to express my anger, for watching my wife cry certainly aroused strong feelings within me. I felt like directing some very nasty barbs at Marie — especially when I remembered those old photos of Jane that I’d looked at a couple of days ago. How could a three-year-old child, standing in the snow on Middle Avenue in Saratoga Springs, be responsible for hurting anything — or anybody?