“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Jane ate little lunch. I didn’t urge her to, or ask questions about hydro or anything else. She dictated the following poem from 2:15–2:28 p.m.)

(One of the first things I learned when I got to 330 today was that Jeff Karder had increased Jane’s dosage of Darvoset to every two hours instead of three. Jane finally told me that she’d had a very rough morning, although during the night she’d mostly done rather well.

(The swelling on her shoulder was up again, but I noticed there was no drainage at all from her knee, nor was there for the rest of the afternoon. Jane said she’d been picturing herself at the old apartments on Water Street [we’d ended up with two], and around town as she used to go — all as though she were taking the last grand tour. When she was finished with all of this she asked me what I thought. I said I didn’t have anything to say. I no longer carry on like I used to, or get mad, and so forth. I could hardly make her do something she didn’t want to do, but I didn’t say that either. If she wanted to die that was it. The hell with it, I thought. I decided — again — that I was through worrying about whether she’d live or die, or whether she was starving herself to death, or whatever.

(Some interesting developments occurred as I prepared to rub her legs with Oil of Olay, as I always do before turning her on her side. When I pressed the main tendon/ligament under her left knee, I found it as taut and strong as steel — as usual. But the next second it suddenly gave way very flexibly. Beneath my hands it seemed to turn to rubber. Jane cried out in surprise. Her leg began to quiver and the foot also moved. So did her head and shoulders as I massaged the leg for some while. Surprise: Seth had said her body had begun to turn itself around.

(I found the same relative situation with the right leg. As I cautiously massaged it, it too began to move, including the foot, and the head and shoulders. Jane cried again, and kept on making a series of low moaning sounds, eyes closed, as I worked with the leg. I could tell she was both afraid of my touch, that it hurt, and that she hadn’t expected the response in the leg or the motion.

(I told her I didn’t want to overdo it, so I turned her on her side. After my nap, I turned her back. As I propped her left leg with the pillow, I discovered that it would still move, for the tendons were still soft. At the same time Jane was in pain — natural enough, I said — for according to conventional belief, muscles that hadn’t been used were supposed to hurt. I also let loose with a few barbed comments, to the effect that she wasn’t about to let the body do its thing, no matter what it wanted.

(Jane was both surprised and pleased at the unexpected discovery of motion. I said we’d try it again tomorrow. In fact, after supper she began to hurt even more. I didn’t know what to do except a few light touches of massage on the right upper leg. Even I was surprised to feel it move beneath my hand — that it could still do so after being held in that position for many months, following the fracture of the knee. Her abdomen still feels rock hard, though.

(I knew my own half-sarcastic remarks about her not letting the body go its own healing way obviously were in response to her earlier talk about dying. I don’t think I overdid what I said — though of course anything like that bothers Jane, even when its true. Then most of all, I suppose — for I express my feelings based upon my interpretation of what I see — I ended up thinking my remarks were the right way to go, for later she told me that I’d expressed some intuitive truths. Who knows — maybe something can be salvaged after all.

(Jane actually smiled as I was getting ready to leave after 7:30. “Maybe I’ll get to go home after all?” she asked. “That’s the idea,” I said. I’d mentioned that thought a few days ago.)