“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

I think it was that late morning that Margaret, our neighbor, dropped in late morning to tell us she and Joe would be heading for their cottage, but somewhere I got it in my head that it would be one of those summer weekends when people prowled around—found excuses to go to malls or visit strange towns or just wander the streets or through public buildings—or visit here, if there were any fans in the nearby locality.

The phone rang, though. Peg G. from the Star Gazette called; there was a fan from South Africa, just in town from NYC to see me. He was right there waiting, would I talk to him at least—on the phone? My whole arm hurt as I picked up the receiver.... I’d been right about people prowling around all right!

While Rob went shopping, I did some mail and on his return we fixed a roast chicken dinner, put it in the oven and took a nap. We hardly tasted the dinner because two “fans” came just as Rob set the chicken on the table. They were nice young men though; we liked then and they stayed perhaps an hour. No sooner did they leave, and we began dessert, though, than Debbie arrived at the door to tell us about a pretty nutty character who had just called her, looking for our address. She stayed for about an hour....

[...] Man to fix refrigerator and a fan—R. sees him on porch.)

[...] I said I was seriously considering giving up answering most of the fan mail, which has increased considerably lately. [...]

(We had the fan on and the windows wide open, although it wasn’t that hot outside. [...]

[...] Later I turned on the fan. [...]

[...] The fan was on also.)

[...] Actually I did a lot of scribbled poetry notes sitting on the side of the bed with the windows open and the fan full blast, trying to take my mind off the nearly steady 90-degree or higher temperature. [...]

[...] On August 7th at supper time a young fan appeared unexpectedly at the door. [...]

[...] Did three excellent pages James—and would have done more except for day’s events—called Edna B. about Cézanne; Tam called; Peg called about those nuts; two fans arrived. [...]

(I also told Jane that in a batch of fan mail that had been temporarily lost, I found a note from my dentist’s secretary and nurse, Babs, changing the date of my appointment from Feb. [...]

[...] I told Jane that if she’d had her regular session yesterday in 330, so that I was busy typing it last night, I wouldn’t have found Babs’s note, because I wouldn’t have had the extra time after supper to go through fan mail, clean out the paper bag I carry to the hospital each day, and so on. [...]

I took the fan into the bedroom, the coolest room in the house, sat down on the edge of the bed, and began to write down my own feelings about Rob’s notes (and) the camera affair — and what I called the Magical Connection.

As I wrote the fan whirred, stirring the air against my skin as the green leaves winked — and I felt a trance at last entering the neighborhood of my mind. [...]

[...] The fan whirred. [...]

[...] Batches of fan mail have arrived the last three days. [...] I believe I’m on the point of renouncing the fan mail, or most of it. Perhaps I’ll take the time from Dreams to work out a final fan letter — including Seth’s — to send folks who write. [...]

[...] The day was very warm—almost 65 degrees—and sunny, the room was hot with the curtains closed, although both windows were open and the fan was on in the air conditioner/register. [...]

[...] Georgia came in and set up the portable fan on the desk; this breeze helped a lot. [...]

[...] I had the fan on, the curtains pulled back and the windows open so we could hear the sounds of traffic below. [...]

Around 1:00 P.M., as Rob and I finished lunch in the kitchen and waited for the mailman, a fan turned up. [...]

[...] Then I thought of another connection with “milk man” — our young fan, Larry, once would only drink milk, he was on a natural food diet — or had been. [...]

[...] A fan (Larry), here from Pennsylvania, says he has a new 2nd job — in grocery chain convenient market (that sells basics — nothing fancy; eggs, milk, beer, etc.). [...]

[...] She brought with her a letter from a fan who wants to visit. [...]

[...] Of course: Peggy had not only visited unexpectedly, but she’d brought a letter from a fan who wanted to visit us from New York City. [...]

[...] The fan was on part of the time because of the exceptional humidity, though. [...]

[...] Now if only I can catch up, once again, on answering the fan mail! [...] Oh-oh: Now there’s another idea for a book—one built around the fan mail, with permissions, of course. [...]

[...] He’s been doing such speaking in trance since the early 1970’s. The literature a fan sent us last week made it seem that the medium claimed to be speaking for Jane’s Seth. More arrived today from the same fan—and the quotes given seemed like copycat material of Seth’s, down to calling himself an “energy-essence,” and so forth. [...]

[...] The chimes had been sent to us as a gift by fans we’ve never met.)

[...] I no longer answer certain business or fan mail.

[...] I had the fan on, directed in Jane’s general direction as she sat across the coffee table from me. [...]

[...] Today, then, the mail brought a copy of the book from a fan that sent it as a gesture, remarking about certain similarities it contains with some of Seth’s material. As far as I know, we’ve not heard from this particular fan before.

[...] The room had turned a little chilly, and Jane had asked me to turn off the fan.)