“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Besides normal reasons (Jane dictates:) he was psychically inclined, at a time when Jane was young and herself close to a past life. She sensed his deep and personal inner awareness. It confused and haunted him, since his inarticulateness applied also to thoughts within himself. He felt strongly but could not explain. In his solitary nature he came close to being a mystic but he was unable to relate his personality as Joseph Burdo with the social world at large, or even to the other members of his family. There was a block, regrettably. He felt strongly his connection with the universe as a whole and with nature as he understood it. But to him nature did not include his fellow human beings. The solitariness that besieged him—because it did besiege him—is dangerous to any personality unless it comes after identification with the human race.

(Here Jane pounded on the desk for emphasis and began, surprisingly, to speak in a stronger voice. I had thought without becoming consciously involved that her voice had been strengthening and deepening since last break. Now, the deeper tone became unmistakable. As she talked it became even more pronounced, more formal and louder.

The one thing that pleases me immensely is the way Ruburt can translate at least a few of my humorous remarks and inflections of my natural speech. It is difficult to carry to you at this point but I have hopes of doing better. Ruburt’s voice is an experiment. The immediacy of our sessions would be enhanced if more of my personality could come through. I could go on quite happily, you might say blithely, for hours but I shall not. I would if I thought I could get away with it.

(“Oh. We thought he was quite happy now.”)

(I felt as if I were heading into a very deep trance state of some sort, which I was fighting off. And yet I thought that I was supposed to be experimenting, and was tempted to go along with it. Fear got the best of me. While I stopped myself from going into a deeper state, I wasn’t able to snap out of what I was in.

(Rob made coffee for me. I didn’t believe I could lift the cup. When I finally did my motions were extremely slow, as in a motion picture played slow. It seemed impossible to exert any pressure in the physical world at all. Rob made me drink two cups of coffee; I stood with my head out the window in the cold night air. Nothing seemed to help. I was thoroughly frightened by now, yet thought that I could snap out of it if I really wanted to; and knew how to.

(Rob thought the concentration of writing a statement on how I felt would help. Instead my efforts showed what a crazy state I was in. My handwriting just wasn’t my own. No pressure was exerted on the pen. The writing was wavery, very small, and grew even smaller. My prose expression was nothing like my own, childish in fact. Thought or messages or bits of conversation popped to mind and I wrote them down in this weird script.