APPENDIX C
JANE AND ROB MEET A SKEPTICAL PSYCHOLOGIST AND HIS MAGIC. JANE’S POEM: “MAGIC IS PUBLIC AS THE AIR …”

He turned on a small recorder; classical music with a tinny quality swirled through the room. He bowed his dark head for just a moment then lifted it, those soft eyes now … softer and harder at the same time; his hands moved in rhythm with the music; his whole body was a marvel of motion; shoulders, head, arms, chest — his whole trunk, responding to the music. Then at his command, four silver dollars disappeared through the tabletop and he caught them underneath in the palm of his hands. Playing cards appeared and disappeared. He was in a trance of his own; so were Rob and I, watching. And in the back of his mind was the improbable hope that one day, somehow, the coins would really go through the tabletop. …

Rob replied, “That test was just one of many we did. We didn’t discount anything. When you use coincidence as a handy explanation for everything, then you never get that far.”

“Uh,” Gramacy said. Rob laughed. And in a twinkling I’d changed into Seth. “Look” I said, “no strings, no cards hidden within cards, no bag of tricks beside me on the floor.” Smiling, hearty, Seth talked about magic and cause and effect, but at the same time he demonstrated a magic that is beyond the clever manipulation of appearances. Another personality from whatever realm had joined the party.