“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

It was February 29, 1968. I was holding one of my twice weekly ESP classes. The large bay window was open, letting in the unusually warm night air. The lights were normally lit in my living room where classes are held. Suddenly I felt that we had a visitor. As always I went into trance easily, without preamble.

Seth spoke through me for over two hours, so quickly that the students had trouble taking notes. His joy and vitality were obvious. The personality was not mine. Seth’s dry, sardonic humor shone from my eyes. The muscles of my face rearranged themselves into different patterns. My normally feminine gestures were replaced by his. Seth was enjoying himself in the guise of an old man, shrewd, lively, quite human. When he spoke of the joy of existence, ringing even through such a voice as his, that deep voice boomed. Later one of the students, Carol, told me that although she knew the words were coming from my mouth, still she felt that they were coming from all over, from the walls themselves.