“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Jane went to hydro as usual this morning, but wasn’t too happy about the system. While she was eating a good lunch I thought of telling her the typewriter repair service had called this morning, citing a bill for $90.00 for the repair and a box of a dozen cartridges, but I forgot to mention it as we talked about other things. I’d also called our optometrist and asked his secretary to have him return my call so I could ask him a couple of technical questions about a note I’m writing for Session 901 for Dreams. Since I had to wait for his call — which never came — I couldn’t leave the house to get Jane’s typewriter. I want to try it out to make sure it’s okay before I turn my own in for repair, which it needs.

(It was a piece of notepaper, not typewriter size but smaller. [...]

[...] If I had all the abilities that you think I have, I would have his typewriter working for him automatically all the time. [...]

The hand was not injured, that is not knocked as by bunking, but was irritated due to a change of wrist motion occurring when he began to use a second typewriter, which he had not used for many years. [...]

The regular typewriter should be used. [...]

[...] She had begun using her old typewriter for first drafts of her writings since leaving the gallery a few weeks ago, with the idea that since we do all the Seth material work on this machine, which is the best of the three we own, some wear and tear might be saved on it.

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

(It was rather quiet in the studio, though I could hear Jane’s typewriter, but through the closed doors the sound was muffled and rather steady, and the rest of the house was quiet. [...]

[...] I do not want to overdo Ruburt’s resources, nor do I want to keep you strapped to the typewriter for three weeks. [...]

[...] Monday I pick up Jane’s typewriter.

(The day was amazingly warm — over 43 — as I drove to 330 after leaving my own typewriter at the service franchise. [...]

[...] Nor do I want to keep you strapped to the typewriter for three weeks. [...]

[...] [Soon the grass, which is turning green, will need cutting, too.] I became quite concerned over the time element this afternoon when I saw that it was 2:45 before I could get back to the typewriter, when I’d quit work at 11:30 AM. [...]

The blue was a reference to the typewriter, which was purchased at the same establishment, when Ruburt eagerly tried to substitute one test item for another, you see.

(We had thought of this, since this typewriter was bought at about the same time, from the same store.)

[...] The upshot of all of the activity is that I was late getting to the typewriter, and it’s now 11:20 p.m. as I finish this session. [...]

[...] Other times I would suddenly begin crying as I ate breakfast, or heard a familiar song on television, or sat at my typewriter working on Dreams. [...]

[...] This applies to her copying work on the typewriter also. [...]

[...] She put fresh paper in her typewriter and at once began what may very well be a new book. [...]

[...] I’ve made things for her before.² Recently she had been having trouble comfortably lifting her hands high enough to reach her typewriter as it sat upon either the oak table in her writing room, or upon her standard metal typing table. I took the time to build a lower, very solid table whose top rides just above her knees as she sits in her office chair; she can operate her typewriter much more easily at that lower level. [...]

[...] Our program of self-help gradually began to diminish, as had many of them before.⁸ Finally, in an effort to cheer up Jane one day as she sat idly at the typing table in her writing room, I tried a variation of a tactic that had worked so well for her inception of Seth’s The Nature of the Psyche almost six and a half years ago: This time, standing in back of her, I put my arms around her and rolled a clean sheet of paper into her typewriter—but here’s the note she wrote the next day:

“After lunch yesterday with a mild sense of horseplay, Rob had put a piece of fresh paper in my typewriter. [...]

[...] Even though her state of awareness was still growing, Jane decided that she wanted to ride downtown with me after we’d finished eating; I planned to pick up one of our typewriters at a repair shop, then buy some groceries. [...]

[...] A bit later I plan to quote from her own notes some of the details of her transcendent perceptions; but by the time I’d secured the typewriter, then driven over to the supermarket at Langdon Plaza, she didn’t think she could get out of the car. [...]

So on August 6th I sat in the patio-room with fresh paper, fresh typewriter cartridge, and hopefully fresh mind, looking over my interpretations of Rob’s latest dreams. [...]

[...] (It would be great if she could at least use a typewriter!) So there could be eight operations, or ten, or …?