“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(A copy of Jane’s account of the Father Trainor affair will be found at the end of this session. This took place on February 11, Thursday, and parts of it are recorded. A shorter repetition, also recorded, was given for Judy and Lee Wright on the evening of February 12, Friday. It was this occasion to which I objected.

I do not mean daily social hours. Now and then experiments with guests are fine. However, his energies on weekends as a rule should be more outgoing, and I am sorry that it has been necessary to curtail your dancing activities. Going out is an excellent way of recharging energies, by contrast. Spontaneous short humorous plays, such as you sometimes do with your recorder, is an enjoyable relaxation.

(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.

(This performance was as good as the first one. I felt carried away by the voice, almost outside of myself, very light and disconnected from this voice. But I do recall that the book itself, which I held as I paced, was heavy. I grew cold and tingled as I read. My hands perspired quite a bit, perhaps from holding the book. Rob came out of his studio to listen to me. When I discovered that I had recorded nothing this time I felt cheated, because to me this reading had been most unusual.

(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?