“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(I used the pendulum again this morning, as soon as I was out of bed, and received the same answer. Last night it hadn’t seemed to do any good. This time, though, almost as soon as I’d finished giving myself some gentle positive suggestions, I suddenly began to feel better. All at once I knew I’d be able to eat breakfast — maybe not in comfort, but at least eat. I felt the swelling begin to subside as though a balloon had been pricked.

It is unfortunately often — but not always — true that individuals who carry strong religious feeling are often bothered more than usual by poor health and personal dilemmas. The fact is that religions have been the carriers of some of the best ideas that man has entertained — but it has also held most stubbornly to the most troublesome concepts that have plagued mankind.

You cannot divorce philosophy from life, for your thoughts and opinions give your life its meaning and impetus. There are some people who believe that life is meaningless, that it has no purpose, and that its multitudinous parts fell together through the workings of chance alone. Obviously I am speaking here of scientific dogma, but such dogma is far more religious than scientific, for it also expects to be believed without proof, on faith alone.

(3:43. Donna came in to take Jane’s temp: 98.8. I didn’t tell Jane, but a couple of times I’d actually fallen asleep for very brief periods while Seth spoke — something I’d never done before. The welcome feeling of release from tension and worry that I’d achieved through using the pendulum this morning was continuing. Indeed, I’d had trouble sticking to my work on Dreams this morning, even as I began to rebound with more energy and relaxation at the same time.

Both mechanisms suddenly line up the belief systems in one particular manner, knocking aside all doubts but accepting instead a strict obedience to the new belief system, and a new reorganization of life itself beneath that new cause.

(I’d left the house a little early this noon so that I’d have a bit of extra time to go up to room 522 at the hospital, to see if Joe Bumbalo was there — but he wasn’t. I made the trip again after leaving Jane, and this time found him. We had a pleasant exchange for about half an hour. Joe lay in bed with his eyes closed the whole time, although he alertly followed our talk. He goes back on chemotherapy tomorrow. Margaret told me a couple of days ago that he’d gone back in the hospital because of uncontrolled blood sugar. This evening she told me the doctors were controlling the diabetes with insulin so Joe could accept the chemotherapy.