“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(She ate a rather skimpy lunch. At 2:59, as we talked, she began to speak about being scared and panicky again. Half crying and moaning in no time, arms and hands moving from where I’d propped them up. She did say her panicky feelings had to do with the session about her mother Marie yesterday, and a dream she’d had last night. Very good, I said, but she couldn’t actually pin down the source or subject matter for her panic today. She continued half crying. “Read me — read me yesterday’s session. I don’t know what I’m doing,” she cried, when I asked her if she was thinking about Marie.

(I read her the session at 2:48. Jane was moaning and crying. She didn’t want to hear my notes for the session, or the poem she’d dictated yesterday. I thought it important that she hear the notes, but had no choice except to wait.

(After a late supper I went over to see the Bumbalo family. Margaret and I hugged. She almost cried. I could tell they’d all been crying. Yet they had the Olympics on TV, and John offered me a scotch and soda. There was much laughing and joking too. Margaret asked me if I’d be an honorary pallbearer at Joe’s funeral, and I said sure. She said I didn’t have to do anything. The first thought that crossed my mind was that I didn’t have a suit to wear — just my corduroys. I didn’t mention this.