“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

I do not approve of a whole day being given over to the sort of experimentation carried on by Ruburt last week in the Father Trainor sessions. In one respect I do agree with Ruburt, in that any future experiments with friends would be of better advantage carried out using chairs at a table, and actually making as few suggestions as possible.

(While visiting us on a recent weekday evening, Bill Macdonnel ruptured a blood vessel in his nose. It bled to such an extent that after half an hour we called the emergency room at one of the local hospitals. Bill lost much blood and became quite ill. Just as the hospital instructed us to take him there, the bleeding stopped. Being afraid to move very much Bill spent the night with us. He was better in the morning, although the bleeding resumed briefly. It developed that Bill has been troubled by this ailment since childhood. Jane and I did not know about it, however, and this was his first such seizure in over a year.)

(When I finished this I kept wondering about it. Why hadn’t I thought to record it? What was the change in my voice? Had I imagined or elaborated on perhaps just a small change? I tried to do it over, on tape. The reading this time was not as striking as the first time, but still there was certainly something definitely going on.

(After lunch I decided to try again. At lunch I played the tape for Rob, then while posing for him I suggested to myself that I would go into a trance as soon as I began to read, and that Father Trainor would indeed use his voice to speak through me, if he was available. I then started all over again with the readings. Except, for what reason I do not know, I turned the recorder on but forgot to depress the “record” button.

(I was so angry that I did the whole thing over again. Lepanto is a four-page poem. This time the performance was about like the second one, already recorded. Perhaps if I feel subjectively right about doing it again, I may try it tonight. I don’t know where the volume comes from, the deep manlike tones. Perhaps it is what actors call merely projection, breathing from the diaphragm. I wasn’t conscious of breathing any differently than usual, but if this was a subconscious production that wouldn’t make any difference. But where would the male aspect enter, unless it be a woman’s attempt to mimic as best she could the voice of a man she had admired?