“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] You want results, so, at the very least a ½ hour a day is to be used for this purpose, and when you have the time an hour. [...]

The body itself can be physically refreshed and rested in much less than eight hours, and after five hours the muscles themselves yearn for activity. [...]

[...] I answered it, then Jane took over when she was out of trance; for five minutes or so she talked to a woman who lived a couple of hours away and wanted to come to ESP class.)

[...] That cannot be compared in any way with the amount of work done by someone in a normal eight-hour day. Someone could work at a poem for eight hours, and have nothing. [...]

Sleeping five hours or so—for Ruburt, in any case—right now is good, because his body wants to move by then, and soreness and irritability begin toward morning as a rule for that reason and at this stage.

[...] For a while, again, have him write three hours of free writing, and paint or whatever. [...]

[...] These outings will be of benefit here, not only because they allow for spontaneous interaction, but because they serve to break the schedules in ways that do not disturb working hours. [...]

[...] More extensive changes, a change in working hours, for example, might frighten the ego and should be avoided.

(At times Jane wakes me up at night; she’s very nearly crying in discomfort, yet now we understand that those feelings represent her muscles wanting to be used; so far, though, we haven’t managed to get ourselves out of bed at such times, which usually develop perhaps an hour before the alarm is to ring; these bouts, then, happen after she’s usually slept for several hours, and the body wants action. [...]

(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. [...]

(I stayed over an extra half hour, trying to help her calm down, and seemed to eventually make some headway there. [...]

[...] Then, as of Monday, he can begin to correlate the new physical activity with his writing, gently, by settling upon three hours a day of the basic “time put in”—but with the stress upon creativity, ideas, and free creative play that may or may not include Seven on any given day.

[...] You are not to compare yourselves with people who have jobs, or to say “They put in so many hours”—for you set up comparisons that do not apply, and that hamper your creativity.

You might feel like applying yourself to “Unknown” Reality, and you might feel like writing steadily for many hours. [...]

[...] If it wasn’t a session night, after dinner and an hour’s poetry, we tried other experiments. [...] He couldn’t do much more without cutting down on his own painting hours, so I often did experiments on my own while he was in the studio.

[...] Since I didn’t have one, I substituted a lovely blue bottle which was filled with water and into which I stared intently for a good half hour. [...]

[...] As it was, the condition lasted about three hours, ending only when we went to bed, past midnight. [...]

[...] (Pause.) I believe the incident occurred near the supper hour, and in a dining room or restaurant. [...]

[...] During the evening hours.

(I worked on answering Christmas cards for half an hour after breakfast, and will have to adopt some sort of system like that to get caught up on the fan mail. [...]

[...] After I’d finished the session, especially the last portion and my notes about my own reactions, which upset Jane, she told me that yesterday she’d actually been very blue the last hour I was there. [...]

[...] To do all the things that he should do, to put in the writing hours that he should, inspired writing hours, then he must automatically be in good health, you see. [...]

[...] We’d scheduled just a two-hour visit by a registered nurse five afternoons a week for Jane’s physical therapy, and to change the dressings on her decubiti. Neither of us wanted live-in help on the premises 24 hours a day. [...]

[...] There was work involved in the typing of manuscripts, hours spent, but the success itself was the result of your individual and joint intuitive creativity, curiosity, your sense of challenge and more adventure.

4.) For three hours I want him to write whatever he wants, freeing his mind from thoughts of his symptoms, and from responsibility.

[...] He can then type an hour on a manuscript. [...]

(Today Jane’s nurse, Peggy Jowett, put her through a regimen of moving, washing, and changing dressings—a busy two hours that was all Jane could handle, we agreed. [...]

(During the night Jane has also more or less settled into a routine of laying down for a couple of hours, then sitting in her chair for an equal time, and even sleeping in it, then going back to bed. [...]

[...] This frightened Jane, but she didn’t tell me until some hours later. [...]

[...] A nice old man, sort of a kindly bum, came by and told me father had made it two hours before his death so that I’d have some inheritance; and the old man might have had a key that worked it; I’m not sure; but there was something about a key.... [...]

[...] 2 hours AM. [...]

[...] That is, write normal hours without taking time out as today, unless he is hit by inspiration to do so.

[...] I want him then to work on his manuscript for two-and-a-half hours, and then to allow himself at least one-and-a-half hours of creative psychic and writing freedom.

(After they left I had an hour to do some typing on the second draft of the letter to Maude Cardwell. [...]

[...] Our clock on the TV had stopped running at 4:00, so when I reset it we found out it was half an hour later than we’d thought. [...]