“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Our friend Ruburt does indeed have stage fright, and to some extent this is understandable, so I bear with him.

However, let us begin with Chapter One. (Smile.) Ruburt may write an introduction if he likes. (Pause.)

I write this book through the auspices of a woman of whom I have become quite fond. To others it seems strange that I address her as “Ruburt,” and “him,” but the fact is that I have known her in other times and places, by other names. She has been both a man and a woman, and the entire identity who has lived these separate lives can be designated by the name of Ruburt.

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.

I do not speak through Ruburt as one might through a telephone. Instead there is a psychological extension, a projection of characteristics on both of our parts, and this I use for our communications. Later I will explain how this psychological framework is created and maintained, for it is like a road that must be kept clear of debris. You would be much better off in reading this book if you asked yourself who you are, rather than asked who I am, for you cannot understand what I am unless you understand the nature of personality and the characteristics of consciousness.

This is not to say that other realities do not exist. I have been conscious before your earth was formed. To write this book — and in most of my communications with Ruburt — I adopt from my own bank of past personalities those characteristics that seem appropriate. There are many of us, personalities like myself, unfocused in physical matter or time. Our existence seems strange to you only because you do not realize the true potentials of personality, and you are hypnotized by your own limited concepts.

(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.