“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

But my mind felt crowded out of itself,
By thoughts not its own,
As if someone were settling down in my skull
That I hadn’t invited in.

Now as seasons come and go,
He visits twice a week,
From worlds that have no wind or snow,
But still have promises to keep.

It was a strange time. The assassination of JFK took place just after our sessions began. The familiar physical world did not seem to be a very secure place. The old ways of thought were bringing appalling fruits. An uneasy December followed — bitter and dreary and discouraging on the national scene — and locally the weather was dark, with snow piled high. And yet, inside our small, lighted living room, we both felt we were making important inroads, gaining invaluable insights and finding a point of sanity amid a chaotic world.

“They … they made bullets and put powder into them. The powder and bullets were kept separate until they were put into the gun, though one or two bullets were always kept ready. They saved the bullets if they could find them, after firing. The metal was hard to get. The guns were awfully heavy. These bullets were something new. They didn’t last; they stopped making them. For some reason I don’t understand, the bullets might explode. The men didn’t want to keep the powder and bullets together. Sometimes the powder was rusty and sometimes whitish. They were big bullets — one of the reasons the guns were so large.