“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

For the next eleven months, the Seth sessions dealt mainly with test data of one kind or another. At 9 P.M. as usual, Seth would begin with the theoretical material in which we were increasingly interested. At 10 P.M. he gave impressions for Dr. Instream, and after that Rob gave me an envelope if there was to be such a test that evening. If we did have one of our own tests, then we’d sit up after the session, trying to evaluate the results. By then it was usually past midnight, and we would be exhausted.

This procedure left me knowing only one thing about the object: that it was from some section of The New York Times, date unknown. After the experiment was over, Jane opened the envelopes containing the test object; then I went back to the studio, and from the hidden section I picked out the page from which the object had been torn. It turned out to be pages 11—12 of Section One of the Times for Sunday, November 6, 1966.

“Connection with a telephone or telephone call.” (On one side of the item we find “No mail or phone orders,” and on the other side, “Mail and phone orders filled,” plus a long series of telephone exchange numbers.)

“And look at this,” Rob said, holding up the item in one hand and the full page in the other.

All of this referred to an article dealing with a Dominican seminary founded in Aldeia Nova, Portugal, in 1943. We believe “Illia” an attempt to get at “Aldeia.” The given date was correct, and the article goes on to tell about a young priest, Father Fernandes (F and R—the abbreviation for “Father” is Fr.), who was on a mission in this country to get funds to modernize the seminary. He was also described as organizing a pilgrimage to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary celebrations at Fatima, which is only ten miles from the seminary. The article states that the seminary includes, among other things, its own farm, vineyards, and vegetable and fruit gardens. We think that the “green, as meadow” impression referred to these. The “Januarious” connection doesn’t seem to be related, yet it is highly important because for me personally it had a strong religious connotation: one of my favorite grade-school teachers was a nun, Sister Januarious. The article speaks of the three children who saw the apparition at Fatima, and Seth mentioned a child.

We asked Seth about these points in a later session, and got some very interesting answers: “A portion is always connected to the whole of which it is part,” he said. “From the torn section, then, to me the whole [page] was present, and from portions of the whole, the whole can be read. With enough freedom on the one hand, and training on the other, Ruburt, speaking for me, could give you the entire copy of The New York Times from a torn corner.

“An oval shape or eye shape, that is, this kind of an eye, inside of a rectangle or triangle, you see.” (According to Rob’s notes, I pointed to one of my own closed eyes. The salesman, as mentioned earlier, specifically mentioned his poor eye in connection with his portrait, and his glasses.)

All in all, Seth gave twenty-four impressions. Each of them did apply, though some were not as specifically connected as others. For example, Seth said: “Connection with black, symbolic of death; and with a tournament, again symbolic, as of a crossing of swords.” We believe that this was a reference to World War II, when the salesman who waited on us had his portrait done as a soldier. Another example was this: “Numbers … perhaps 01913.” The bill did have numbers on it, and in a series that began with 0 (this seemed unusual to us), but not in the order given by Seth. One series begins with 09 (not 019); and the last two digits, 1 and 3, do appear by themselves on the front of the bill.

The second impression that I was supposed to complete (“something bright and small beneath this overhanging or threatening portion”) was to lead me to the word “roller pan,” which also appeared on the bill beneath the word “roofing.” A roller pan is small, bright, and shiny, and the one Rob purchased that day had been a shiny aluminum color.

It didn’t seem to make any difference in the results whether Rob knew what the test envelope contained or not. One night Nora Stevens (not her real name) came unannounced. She was the friend of a friend, and had attended two sessions previously. During this period we encouraged people to drop in with test envelopes, though actually few did. (Before and after this we preferred to keep our sessions private.)

Yet sometimes I’d get discouraged even over good results. One test had pleased me no end at first. It was our 37th, held in the 237th session on March 2, 1966. The target item was a print Rob had taken of his own hand a week earlier, when we were reading some books on palmistry. Seth’s impressions couldn’t have been more concise. I went around the house with a smile on my face just thinking of it for days afterward.

“He might,” Rob admitted. “But the fact is, we’ve received plenty of letters that I could have used since then. We also did work in handwriting analysis; I could have used one of those samples. I could have used something older than you are—as I’ve done before. I could have used anything. No matter what we use, Seth still has to describe a particular item. And those impressions weren’t general; they could only refer to that specific hand print.”

I agreed with him. But after that, Rob often made up several test envelopes at once, shuffled them, and then chose one just before a session.

For one year, twice a week, Seth gave his impressions as to Dr. Instream’s activities. These included specific references as to names, initials, dates, and places. Some of this data could be easily checked out. Dr. Instream wanted Seth to concentrate on naming a particular object, though, upon which he would be concentrating in the distant town in which he lived. It became obvious that emotional elements were more important; that activities of an emotional nature “came through” more clearly than impressions of a more neutral object. Seth did give material pertaining to objects also, but he was more apt to give specific information on Dr. Instream’s daily life.

One of our favorite topics of conversation that year was when will we hear from Dr. Instream? For months on end we would hear nothing. Perhaps, we thought, he wanted to give us no reports until the experiments were finished. If so, why didn’t he just tell us? When finally the suspense was too much for me, I would write: were we getting any hits or weren’t we? Dr. Instream always assured us of his continuing interest, told us to go on with the tests, and said that he had no evidence yet strong enough to “convince the hard-nosed psychologist.” But that was all. He said nothing about the numerous names and dates, the visitors or letters mentioned in the sessions. Was the data all wrong? Partially right? We never found out. He never told us.

I didn’t feel this way in the beginning, but I was really furious that he didn’t tell us the results of the tests; all those hours seemed to be going down the drain. One night, really angry at not hearing from him, I did go with Rob to a nearby bar—only to rush home at the last minute so as not to miss the session!

This time Peg and Bill went to Nassau. Again, neither Rob nor I have been there. Again, we exchanged no cards, letters, or communications of any kind. But to my delight, Seth certainly knew where the Gallaghers were staying. In a series of impressions one night (October 17, 1966), he accurately described their hotel:

“A building with a long narrow section; a roof supported by posts. The roof is long and narrow also. With a floor of stone or cement, sand-colored. A veranda outside their door, and a large bucket filled with sand. There are rocks beneath the veranda, and beyond that, the ocean or bay. Right at the shore, down and ahead, is a scooped-out circular indentation where there is a swift current because of the rocks. And at this particular point, by this indentation, there is no beach, though there is a beach to the left and right, rather large ones.”

Then, strangely, Seth gave a very specific description of a place Peg and Bill visited, but with one distortion, apparently of wording. “A fountain with steps leading up to it; a circular formation surrounded by flowers, with closely crowded, old, two-story structures to the left of the street and very close to it, in rows.” Everything was correct, except that there was a water tower rather than a fountain.

Actually, I’m not sorry that we took so much time for the tests, but I’m glad we ended them when we did. I’m not temperamentally suited to putting myself under fire twice a week, which is what I was doing with the attitude I had at the time. Emotionally I disliked the tests; intellectually I thought them necessary. Seth didn’t seem to mind them at all, but I forced myself to go along because I thought I should. The fact remains that in our sessions the best instances of ESP have occurred spontaneously or in response to someone’s need, and not when we were trying to prove anything. I knew I was disappointed not to get some sort of “certificate of legitimacy” from Dr. Instream. On the other hand, we didn’t ask for one; we were too burned up not to have reports on the results.

Very shortly after the sessions began, Rob started to see visions or images. Some were subjective, but others were objectified—three-dimensional, or nearly so. Some were of people, and Rob began to use them as models for his paintings. Now our living room is full of portraits of people we don’t “know.” Seth has said that some depict ourselves in past lives. One, used in this book, is a portrait of Seth in the form in which he chose to appear to Rob. (Since then, a student and a friend of ours have both seen Seth as he appears in this picture.)

In one session, Seth gave some pointers that Rob immediately put to use. The picture is one of our favorites, and belongs to Rob’s “people series”—portraits of people we’ve never met. The inspiration for this particular painting came to Rob suddenly a few days after the session in question, and he used the techniques Seth had given in its execution.

“One of the attractions of your portrait of me is that it automatically suggests an unseen audience to whom I appear to be speaking. Not a formal audience, but unseen listeners who represent humanity at large. The unseen is there. The figure manages to suggest the universe of men and the world that holds them, yet nowhere do these appear.

In the past, Rob’s portraits were representations of personalities involved with us personally through association or past life connections—as far as we know. Some of them still have to be identified. Lately, however, the range of the portraits has been extended. Rob did one of a young man recently, for example (see illustrated section). He had no idea who it was. Later one of my students, George, picked out the painting as a portrait of a personality called Bega, who communicates with him through automatic writing. Seth corroborated this, and said that Bega is one of his own students in another level of reality.

Though the sessions continued as usual, we found ourselves having other experiences then, like Rob’s visions, that also developed out of the Seth Material in one way or another. And as if to stress our new sense of freedom and further add to my confidence and training, Seth was to send me to California during a session, while he and Rob talked in the living room of our apartment in Elmira, New York. So much more fun than trying to tell the contents of sealed envelopes! This time complete strangers were involved in an experience that would really satisfy my seemingly endless search for proof after proof.