“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(At about 4 PM I quit work, and began to prepare for my nap. I wanted Jane to lie down also, since she’d sat in her chair since about 7:30 this morning. She hadn’t even gone to the john—the same behavior she showed last Saturday, when a session had been held that night. Now Jane told me however, that she was feeling “panicky.” She’d been dozing in the chair and woke up feeling that way. It got worse. I could see that she had no intention of lying down. “God, I’m scared,” she said several times, but couldn’t say why she felt that way, at first. Then she said she thought her fright was connected to her fear of abandonment as a child—and that she would finally make life so miserable for me that I’d leave her.

(I replied that if I was involved in that fashion, then I had to be a late link in a long chain of such fears. I wasn’t denying that I could be so involved. I said Jane’s mother had been abandoned by her father, that her grandparents had also been separated through bitter argument, and that Jane herself had often been threatened with such a fate by her mother. Also—because of the nature of her own psychic work, Jane must feel abandoned by the literary establishment—and even society in general—no matter if certain people do buy her books. She’s far from being accepted by the ruling elite of our country, at least at this time. It all fit together, I said. All of this is very simplified from our discussion, which must have lasted a couple of hours. Neither of us slept.

(I had several rather grim questions that had grown out of recent sessions—obvious ones—and could have easily come up with others. A primary one was why Jane’s personality would continue behavior that could bring on the threat of abandonment, as she saw it—the symptoms—if she had such a fear of that possibility. I saw this as very contradictory. Another question was why her overall personality would continue behavior that could conceivably bring about the eventual demise of the physical body—and thus the death of those very portions of the personality that were causing all the trouble, and had been for years. This didn’t make sense to me, in ordinary terms.

(By 9:15 I began wondering if we’d have a session. Jane had finished her cigarette but hadn’t taken off her glasses yet. I fed the cats and put them in the cellar. [Billy had caught a mouse in my writing room this afternoon.] “I’m just waiting,” Jane said, half-dozing. I thought she was probably tired from this afternoon’s upset, and also encountering resistance to the session. As I’ve mentioned recently before, the fear itself could have by now—must have—acquired a life of its own, after all of those years, and it would as an entity resist being dispensed with, or transformed. If only Jane could understand that she had nothing to fear by way of abandonment from me, I thought. I repeat that statement here, again.