“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(She ate a light lunch. Although her eyes looked better, she couldn’t make out faces on TV at times, and later couldn’t read yesterday’s session at all. “That really upsets me,” she said. “I thought that when you were getting better it showed,” I said. “So did I,” she replied. Both of us were still puzzled as to what’s been going on since Day 1. I told her I’d had another dream last night about our moving back to 458 West Water, but that I couldn’t recall it. This in turn triggered her own memories that she’d had several dreams last night that she couldn’t recall either.

(4:32 p.m. I read the session to Jane while she had a smoke. Seth at least verified some of my ideas. I told Jane that his promise of giving more material doesn’t usually work out — I’m aware of a number of such references he’s made in this series of sessions. The additional material never comes through. I said I’d either have to keep a list, and keep bugging her for the information, or she’d have to keep the instances in mind. And I couldn’t see her doing that, especially if often she never even sees the typed session, but hears me read it to her. So I’ve stopped pushing for continuances of the promised material. I know it’s there, and that in certain cases at least, it would be very helpful if we could get it.)

[...] She tried to read yesterday’s session, but couldn’t at all. [...]

[...] Jane tried again to read the session, but couldn’t. At 3:10 I started to read it to her when Mary Jean came in to check the flow of the antibiotic. [...]

[...] I wondered why the body couldn’t heal itself except through fevers and infections. [...]

(I was getting ready to leave at 6:50, after turning and feeding Jane, and so forth, when I discovered I couldn’t find my glasses. [...]

[...] Because it’s a holiday, I guess, the bank was closed, so I couldn’t pay the IRS.

[...] After lunch I read yesterday’s session to Jane, which she couldn’t do.

[...] My questions had to do with the consciousness that must reside within, or make up, radiation, and why that type of consciousness was so virulent that we humans couldn’t tolerate it. [...] Why did we create it when we couldn’t tolerate many forms of it?

[...] Wouldn’t you know it — the spring mechanism that governs the travel of the garage door broke as I was lowering the door, so that I couldn’t close it all the way. So when I got to 330 one of my first acts was to call Overhead Door and ask them to have someone check the garage door this afternoon, if possible. [...]

[...] While she ate I told her several times that I had a feeling of anticipation, as though I had something I wanted to tell her, but couldn’t recall it. [...]

[...] Jane was telling me that an aide who took care of her this morning, and who is living apart from her husband and has three kids, looked at a second-hand washing machine this noon but couldn’t afford the $130 cost. [...]

[...] She couldn’t believe it. [...]

[...] This morning the ringing telephone got me out of bed at 5:45 a.m. It couldn’t be anyone except someone at the hospital, I thought as I ran out of the bedroom. [...]

[...] Jane couldn’t stand for me to rub her left leg after I turned her, because of the strong “pins and needles” feelings the massaging generates in the leg. [...]

[...] Even when I read it, she said, she “couldn’t absorb it very well” for some reason. [...]

[...] Sharon didn’t give any sign that she noticed or heard anything unusual—and looking at Jane, one couldn’t tell that she was in trance. [...]

[...] I couldn’t pick out our place from where we stood, couldn’t find it, but realized I had to get up or wake up, and did. [...]

(After last night’s session I was so upset I couldn’t talk about it, nor did Jane ask me anything about the contents of the session. [...] I also couldn’t see how we were going to get through these difficult moments.

[...] I couldn’t reach her to help from the other side of the chair, because of our bathroom’s architecture. [...]

[...] When Jane finally admitted she couldn’t make it, I went back out to the kitchen to do the dishes and close up the house for the night. [...]

[...] She tried several times to get to her feet; she almost made it, but couldn’t quite. [...]

[...] Consciousness was independent of the body — Seth was right — and if that was true, then there was no reason why he couldn’t be what he said he was: an independent personality, out of the flesh. [...] I couldn’t wait till Rob came home so I could tell him what happened.

[...] Later I started a poem on the idea, but couldn’t follow it through. [...]

[...] Suppose I stopped having the sessions while I tried to figure things out, then decided that Seth was right on all counts — and found I just couldn’t have sessions again? [...]

[...] Miss Cunningham, Rob, me and all the people that we knew were surely getting shot down; falling through time, we were dying in a descent that we couldn’t understand or control. [...]

[...] I couldn’t believe what was happening, and was already wondering what to do to get out of the situation. [...]

[...] He nodded sympathetically when I told him Jane was quite ill and couldn’t see anybody. [...]

[...] I slid the kitchen window shut so he couldn’t call into Jane. [...]

[...] At the same time, he accepted almost without question whatever development or course events took: When he realized he couldn’t see Jane, he accepted it finally, in a very reasonable manner. [...]

(At 2:45 PM Jane tried to read the typed session from yesterday, but couldn’t, in spite of her struggles. I was upset, thinking that if she couldn’t read it would be a great handicap, especially since we’d started up the sessions again. [...]

[...] I couldn’t wait. [...]

[...] Jane tried to reread the session for 12/4, but couldn’t do much with it. [...] Her right eye is fine, and sees colors well, she said, but for some reason the two eyes together couldn’t read well. [...]

[...] For some reason I couldn’t pin down an interpretation. [...]

[...] Unfortunately, the vest was too tight to button, and the umbrella couldn’t be properly folded up, once opened, for storage; I finally figured why after fussing with it for half an hour, and after a bit of a struggle I got it collapsed and tied so it couldn’t open up. [...]

[...] She said something about hospital policy being to review cases after a six-month period, but I couldn’t elicit from her when Jane’s current six-month period might have begun. [...]

[...] I said I probably couldn’t publish all of the material by myself. [...]

[...] I couldn’t believe this was happening, even after all of the signs that have accumulated over the years. [...]

[...] But I told Jane that I couldn’t ask her to do something she didn’t want to do. [...]

[...] “I couldn’t see his head, shoulders, or even waist. [...] I couldn’t see the bases of these, though, and I’m not even sure they were pyramids. [...]

[...] So the early sessions intrigued me, but, intellectually, I couldn’t accept reincarnation. [...]

[...] Big ships couldn’t get in close. [...]

“Albert liked to hunt, but he couldn’t get much because the ground was too rocky … deer and rabbits, a special kind of rabbit, no big tails, gray hares of some kind. [...]

[...] What follows is obviously simplified and shorter, since I couldn’t record every spoken word between us. [...]

(She also recounted how she didn’t have to take gym in school because of her periods, and how Marie said Del had bad eyes because of the syphilis and couldn’t read. [...]

[...] “But I certainly felt the feminine part of you was the part you couldn’t trust,” she said. [...]

[...] I pointed it out to Jane, but she couldn’t quite see it, except for a flash of color. [...]

Eye right still bothers; all right side but suddenly without my glasses I read even small print as well as I usually read with glasses; and when I got those bifocals I couldn’t read that well even with glasses. [...]

(9:10.) Seth couldn’t lead my life for me, of course. He couldn’t lead other people’s lives for them (underlined), either—yet through the years I began to feel a greater and greater sense of responsibility for people with physical problems who wrote requiring Seth’s aid, or mine. [...]

Seth gave so many sessions that were devoted to my own physical condition that I finally became embarrassed and confused: The sessions were obviously terrific—why couldn’t I put them to more practical use?

[...] Toward the end there was a strain, involving things I couldn’t translate. [...]

(“Maybe my feelings weren’t caused by any thing, but some kind of acceleration toward a state I couldn’t reach, instead of any great disclosure for the world,” Jane said a little later. [...]

(Her comments fit in well with Seth’s closing statement about the difficulty of translation; otherwise, we couldn’t find a reason for her reactions in the session material itself. [...]

[...] I couldn’t help feeling that that was the way we were fated to live out our lives—that we’d picked those paths as a matter of choice years ago. [...]

[...] We asked about upping the thyroid medication, and Dr. K said it couldn’t be done without a blood test. [...]

[...] Before the session I’d told Jane that I’d always felt that in our relationship my own contributions were doomed to fall short of what she wanted and expected from me —that I’d always felt I couldn’t give all she needed from a marriage partner. [...]

[...] I couldn’t believe that after all this time and effort over the years, we were back to square one, trying to figure it all out. [...]