“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(In beginning these notes, let me mention that there are certain definite changes in Jane when she is in trance and speaking for Seth.

(Usually Jane goes in and out of trance with remarkable speed. Her eyes aren’t closed during sessions, except for relatively brief periods — but they can be barely open, say, or half open, or wide open and much darker than usual. She sits for sessions in her Kennedy rocker, but on occasion she gets up and moves about. She smokes in trance and sips a little wine, beer, or coffee. Sometimes, when her trance has been very deep, it takes her a few minutes “to really come out of it,” as she puts it. Almost always she joins me in a snack after the session, no matter how late it is.

Now: You have heard of ghost hunters. I can quite literally be called a ghost writer, though I do not approve of the term “ghost.” It is true that I am usually not seen in physical terms. I do not like the word “spirit,” either; and yet if your definition of that word implies the idea of a personality without a physical body, then I would have to agree that the description fits me.

I address an unseen audience. However, I know that my readers exist, and therefore I shall ask each of them, now, to grant me the same privilege.

Names are not important, however. My name is Seth. Names are simply designations, symbols; and yet since you must use them, I shall also. I write this book with the cooperation of Ruburt, who speaks the words for me. In this life Ruburt is called Jane, and her husband, Robert Butts, takes down the words that Jane speaks. I call him Joseph.

As I begin this book it is late January, in your time, 1970. Ruburt is a slim, dark-haired, quick woman now, who sits in a rocker and speaks these words for me.

(Long pause at 9:35.) My consciousness is fairly well focused within Ruburt’s body. It is a cold night. This is our first experience in writing a complete book in trance, and Ruburt was somewhat nervous before the session began. It is not just a simple matter of having this woman speak for me. There are many manipulations necessary, and psychological adjustments. We have established what I refer to as a psychological bridge between us — that is, between Ruburt and myself.

(Pause at 10:45.) The hour is growing late. Both of my friends must get up early in the morning. Ruburt is working on two books of his own and must get his sleep. Before I end this session I ask you to imagine our setting, for Ruburt has told me that a writer must be careful to set the scene. (Humorously.)

I speak through Ruburt twice a week, on Mondays and Wednesdays, in this same large (living) room. The lights are always lit. This evening it is enjoyable for me to look out through Ruburt’s eyes at the wintry corner beyond.

Physical reality has always been refreshing to me, and through Ruburt’s cooperation and as I write this book, I see that I was correct in appreciating its unique charms. There is one other character to be mentioned here: Willy, the cat, a beloved monster who is now sleeping.