“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.

(Jane had a cigarette. I told her it was important that I read her my notes for yesterday’s session, especially those pertaining to her mother. She finally agreed.

(3:14. I read the notes. Then I read the session for July 30 — at Jane’s request — the first in this series regarding her death, the end of The Way Toward Health, and so forth. I tried to put the situation in perspective: “You’re trying to excise your fears of your mother, which in turn led to your being afraid of the world and your own fears of death, ‘cause you carried your idea of protection from the world so far …”

Remind Ruburt further (pause) that he did his best to help your mother, making efforts toward love and communication (long pause) that he felt you were not able to express toward your mother at times.

Remind him of his kindnesses to your apartment-house neighbor, Miss Callahan, to his many students, and of his love for you. Also remind him that he did not deal with malice toward his own mother. Do remind him affectionately and often that for many years he loved his mother deeply, and that his own existence made his grandfather experience a love that was a light in his later years.

These elements are all living and highly potent in the affairs of his life — so that in no way do his relationships with his mother (pause) become any isolated concentration, existing apart from the other affairs of life. Remind him that Ruburt loves nature, and always has. Nature loves Ruburt, and always has.

(We were talking at 3:45 when the phone rang. It was John Bumbalo. His father, Joe, had died at 2:00 p.m. John had just left the house, as Jane and I had left the rest home just before my mother died in November, 1973. Jane spoke to John, thanking him for looking after me. John told her I was “a wonderful man.” I felt a surge of emotion, half unbelieving, when she told me. Jane began to hum a song we both knew but couldn’t place — perhaps an aria from an Italian or Spanish opera. She said she thought it was connected to Joe somehow.