“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Drive to post office with R. Almost too many improvements to remember; much greater motion right ankle; considerable new motion left foot; left knee looser; also right knee, to lesser degree; head-neck areas and ligaments all definitely loosening; and jaw. Sit on porch in back all afternoon, and read Seven; PM Frank comes; confirms the changes since he’s seen me last—from the chiropractor’s standpoint.

11 AM–12:30: (Sheri calls about New York Post centerfold.)

[...] High grass for awhile, and some wooden posts and wire.

[...] There are these fairly thin wooden posts, but not round (frown, gestures) rectangular at the top, you see. [...]

post or fence?

A building, or a part of a building where they stay, now, where there is a long narrow section, a roof supported, a flat roof, I believe, long and narrow, supported by posts—

(“Verandah, long and narrow, flat roof, supported by posts, where we stay.”)

[...] There are fairly thin wooden posts, not round, rectangular at the top, you see, perhaps hip-level.” Seth gestured to Rob, to show the shape and size of the posts. [...]

[...] There is high grass for a while, and some wooden posts and wires.”

[...] Numerous sand dunes were nearby and wooden posts, exactly as described, were scattered along the dunes.

(I left the house for the post office and to take Jane’s typewriter in for cleaning. [...]

[...] You give yourselves post-hypnotic suggestions all the time, particularly when you project present conditions into the future. [...]

[...] Nevertheless, I stopped at the post office on my way to the hospital to mail all of the information about the Infirmary and Steve to Pete. [...]

[...] She told us she’s leaving the hospital to be a supervisor in Painted Post, a small community some 17 miles west of Elmira. [...]

[...] I was leaning against the endpipe, or post, of a modern, steel meshwork type of fence that reached rather high above me—several feet in fact. [...]

(As I stood learning against the post in the bright sunlight, I suddenly heard my name called out, in a high-pitched, plaintive, feminine voice: “Ro-o-bert...” [...]

[...] On the way to the hospital I stopped at the post office to mail Lynn Lumsden a copy of a fan letter we’d received, offering us a year’s free ads in a crossword puzzle magazine.

[...] I’d stopped at the post office to mail Tam the set of page proofs for Seven that Bill O’Hearn had sent us, along with a copy of Bill’s letter re bound copies of page proofs for Seven. [...]

(“A connection with something distant,” In the sixth column of the envelope object there is a reference to Corning—Painted Post School District, which employs Bill as an art teacher. [...] The time he can spend at his gallery in Elmira is thus quite limited—another reason for the schedule of hours posted in one of the windows, as mentioned on page 109.

[...] I was late because I’d stopped at the post office.

(It’s of further interest to note that no sooner had I mailed a letter to Ms. O’Keefe this morning, asking her help in locating an address in London, than her letter was delivered at our door upon our return from the post office. [...]

[...] I’ll stop at the post office to pick up some Christmas stamps. [...]

(She still has to understand her automatic reactions of panic and fear of lost working time when I suggest going out, as I did today about going to the bank and post office tomorrow. [...]

[...] Got lunch, told Rob what happened, left house for walk to post office to mail manuscript, and to grocery store. [...]

(Remember going to post office. [...]

There is a spring here which may serve as a guiding post, if you could find the spring, which is warm.