“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Last Wednesday afternoon, April 22, 1964, Jim Beckett visited me briefly. He is a computer service technician whom Jane and I had met but two or three times some months ago, before the sessions began. We became acquainted with him when he was a TV repairman. He is also a ham radio operator and a science-fiction fan; thus the three of us got along well from the beginning, when we met Jim as he called to service our TV. But after this first acquaintance we had not seen him since, and often wondered what happened to him.

(Jim visited Jane at the gallery and she invited him to the house on Friday night so that we could discuss Seth. Jim also wanted to tell us about two of his friends who had been running some telepathy tests with personnel at the parapsychology lab at Duke University. Jim would attempt to bring one of the friends with him Friday. Bill Macdonnel, the witness to the 46th session, would also be there.

(Bill wanted to hear again the transcript of the 46th session which he witnessed; since I did not have it typed up yet I began to read it to him. It was quite hilarious and we had some laughs over it; but as I finished reading at about 9:45 PM, I became aware that I was experiencing a feeling of enlargement in the index and second finger of my right hand. Bill stated that in his opinion these two fingers were noticeably “fatter” than the corresponding two on my left hand. I then cut narrow strips of paper and had Bill measure and mark the circumference of each finger, planning to check these measurements when the sensation had passed. This is the system I plan to use to check Jane’s hands also.

(At the time I noticed my hand phenomena, our cat Willy began to charge about the premises in a most active display. At the same time, Jane said that she thought she felt Seth stirring about, since all of us had talked about him constantly for some time now. I readied my pens and paper, just in case.

(I then showed Jim and Bill the two drawings of my visions of the night before; I did the drawings this afternoon. The drawing of the head, with the brimming eyes, struck Jim rather forcibly. In his quiet way he said the drawing was very disturbing to him, and mentioned this several times after I had put them away. Both Jim and Bill thought the other one, of the girl and dog, quite gruesome. As it happened, both drawings were rather successful; I felt I had done a good job of getting my memory of the visions down on paper.

Nor is it any coincidence that the picture which you drew as a result of your vision struck him so forcibly. Roarck is the name of your acquaintance; it is the name of Jim’s entity, and about this I will have more to say.

All this involves training. It involves discipline, and then there is freedom. The esthetic nature inherent in Roarck’s personality will equip him to follow along very well. Let him also take to heart my little sermon on humility. Mark can forget it. His personality needs all the building up it can get.

(“What is the significance of that drawing to him?”)

(End at 11:40. Jane was dissociated as usual. Bill received a nine-word sentence of Jane’s during delivery, before she voiced it. He gave me his notes to put into the record. Jim stated that the personal information about himself was correct, although neither Jane nor myself had any knowledge of these things, having met him but briefly on a few occasions some months ago.

(This time, I found myself standing in the doorway of an office building in New York City. I do not know what floor it was on, except that it was at least several floors up. It was not an office I had ever been in, yet was next door to an office I used to visit occasionally when Jane and I lived in Tenafly, NJ, and I was free-lancing as an artist in NYC. The building could be the Carnegie Hall office building, or one very close to Carnegie Hall, on 57th St. I do not recall the street number. The publisher I worked for occasionally was Charles Biro, the time was around 1955. I do not know whether he is still located there, or what has happened to him, not having seen him since.