“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

To say that my editor was surprised by the first eight chapters of my ESP book is putting it mildly. He’d had dealings with me before and knew me well enough to be personally interested. He wrote enthusiastic letters, but he was also worried about the book as it stood. My experiences proved that I’d been a medium all along without knowing it, he said, and this could invalidate the book’s premise—that the experiments would work for anyone to some extent, regardless of their psychic background.

In the meantime we decided to write someone else in the field. Dr. Karlis Osis of the American Psychic Society would have experience with cases like ours, we thought. So in March 1964 we wrote him a letter. He soon wrote back asking for a few sample sessions and suggesting that Seth clairvoyantly describe his office in New York. I don’t know what I expected from Dr. Osis, but I sure as the devil wasn’t ready to see what Seth could or could not do. Seth offered to carry out the experiment, but I held back. I don’t know if I was more afraid that Seth could or couldn’t follow through.

“But Seth said he’d do it,” Rob said, reasonably enough.

Yet even to Rob I couldn’t voice my fears. Suppose Seth couldn’t? Wouldn’t that mean that everything else was some kind of subconscious fraud? Why had Seth agreed when he knew, whoever he was, that I was scared stiff?

“I can make mistakes and that’s okay,” I said, trying to explain. “But suppose Seth makes them, too? Suppose he tries to do what’s asked of him and fails?”

“Is he supposed to be omnipotent?” Rob asked, grinning.

“No, of course not,” I said. “But it sure would be a great help if he was.” Just the same, I went into another slump. I still wasn’t at all sure that I believed in the survival of personality after death, and if we didn’t survive, then from whom was I getting these messages? My subconscious? While I used that explanation as a handy whipping boy at times, I didn’t really believe that either: my subconscious was getting enough expression in my short stories and poetry—and without adopting other personality characteristics. A secondary personality? Perhaps, but Seth didn’t fit the picture of any of the case histories we’d read—and neither did I.

While I hesitated trying the experiment, Rob sent Dr. Osis some more of the material. Dr. Osis wrote that he wasn’t interested in the material itself, since it didn’t fall within his field of empirical psychology. He asked us not to send more unless it contained reports of ESP demonstrations. Even though he expressed interest in “testing” Seth for ESP, and suggested again that we try the clairvoyant experiment, I was put off by the letter. So I sulked: If he didn’t express interest in the material, which I thought was terrific, then he could just go find someone else to go looking through his walls!

It seems ridiculous now that it took me 116 sessions before I’d close my eyes or stop pacing the floor. By the time this first change happened in my trance states, I’d already had my first out-of-body experience, and following Seth’s instructions I was having clairvoyant experiences during daily exercise periods. But I felt in control of these, while Seth was in control of sessions, and to me this made a difference. I agreed to the new trance procedure, but it was still some time before it became the rule rather than the exception. The trance was a deeper one, though, and the material launched into more complicated subjects. It was also during this time that Seth started removing my glasses just before he began to speak.

(It would be January 1966 before the next change in my trance behavior. After having sessions for a year with my eyes closed, I suddenly began opening them again, though the trance was even deeper than before. There was quite a noticeable alteration of muscle pattern and facial gestures—an overall personality change. The expression in the eyes was not only un-Jane-like. It definitely belonged to Seth. To all intents and purposes, Seth was comfortably ensconced in my physical body. This is our current procedure also, and apparently it gives Seth a certain freedom of expression. He often looks directly at Rob, for example, or at anyone else to whom he is speaking.)

In spring 1965, about a year after we wrote Dr. Osis, Rob wrote to Dr. Instream (not his real name), who was connected with a state university in upstate New York. Dr. Instream had been one of the nation’s foremost psychologists in his earlier years, and had investigated many mediums in the past. If Seth was a secondary personality he would know it, I thought. Again we enclosed a few sessions with one letter. Dr. Instream wrote back, expressing interest and inviting us to attend the National Hypnosis Symposium to be held in July 1965.

It was the craziest and most vexing vacation we’ve ever spent. At the first lecture we attended, the speaker gave a demonstration in hypnosis. Except for ourselves and a few students, the symposium was attended by psychologists, doctors, and dentists. The lecturer was a psychologist who is well known for his work in hypnosis. Lowering his voice, he said that since most of those in the audience used hypnosis professionally, they should know what it felt like to be hypnotized themselves. So he began.

Rob sat on one side of me and Dr. Instream on the other. I decided that I wasn’t going to be hypnotized, but I lowered my eyes so as not to be conspicuous. When it became apparent that most of the audience had dutifully gone under—sitting there and reminding me somehow of pigeons with wings neatly folded—I looked up cautiously to see what Dr. Instream was doing. He was looking back. Rob was grinning, watching both of us.

Dr. Instream was delightful. Later, we were in a Howard Johnson’s restaurant in Oswego talking with the good doctor when I abruptly felt Seth about. We’d never had a session away from home. Nervously I kept trying to make eye-signs at Rob. Once I kicked his leg, hoping that I didn’t kick the doctor’s by mistake. Finally I caught Rob’s eye. He got the message and shrugged comically.

“Uh, I don’t know how to put this,” I said, “but if you want to meet Seth you can. He’s around.”

I had no intentions of having a session in a Howard Johnson’s restaurant. Neither did Dr. Instream. He took us to his office and closed the door.

I guess we might have set some kind of a record. First I’d say something, then Dr. Instream, then Seth, then Rob—like a round robin. Seth called Dr. Instream by his first name, and the two of them sounded as if they were old cronies. I was a bit appalled. After all, Dr. Instream was a distinguished elderly gentleman. Rob took all the notes he could, scribbling furiously.

Dr. Instream treated Seth with deference, great deference—and I admit that I found this somewhat suspicious at the time. I wasn’t sure myself as to who or what Seth was, and the thought crossed my mind more than once that the doctor’s attitude was simply a device to gain my confidence—the psychologist’s pretense that he believed in the existence of his patient’s delusion as unquestioningly as the patient did.

Before we finished with that visit, Dr. Instream told us unofficially that Seth had a “massive intellect” and certainly didn’t seem to be a secondary personality. He cheered me considerably by telling me that I appeared to be in excellent emotional and psychological health.

Unfortunately, we also spoke to another psychologist at the symposium, one much closer to my own age. We met during one of the informal get-togethers. When he discovered that we weren’t connected with the medical profession in any way, he asked what our interest was in the symposium. So we told him. One thing led to another. A discussion about Seth followed, and Rob showed him some of our notes, later, in our room.

After speaking to us for less than an hour, the psychologist assured me that I was schizoid, using the sessions to dominate Rob. Once, he grabbed the notes from the bureau and approached me like some wrathful god, waving them in my face. “You think it’s necessary to take all these records, don’t you?” he demanded.

“A-hah,” he shouted—and he did shout. “That’s one of the main symptoms!”

It was no good. Whenever I tried to say something in my own behalf, he’d yell triumphantly. “See? See? You feel the need to defend yourself, don’t you?”

“He only talked with us for thirty minutes or so, hon,” Rob said.

“But suppose he’s right? I wouldn’t know it—that’s the awful part. Neither of us would know it or want to admit it!”

We drove up past the stately university buildings. How neat and orderly! If only life were that neat, I thought. Rob was still trying to comfort me when we arrived at Dr. Instream’s office. Was I really one of those talkative domineering women who used any kind of trick to control their husbands? I looked over at Rob. He stood there, quiet but assured, “cool” versus my “hot”—my idea of a man. Usually I’m talkative. Now I shut up and let Rob do the talking—or tried to let him.

Dr. Instream told us that the psychologist’s behavior was an example of the sort of performance that so upset parapsychologists. But more, he told me once again that he’d found no such tendencies on my part. “The man’s had no experience in the practice of psychology,” he said. “He’s only read textbook cases of this or that.” Then he told us that while the experience was unfortunate, perhaps it was best that we encountered it early in the game. Academic psychologists were apt to take a dim view of mediumship, he said. I would have to let such comments roll off my back. I should have laughed at the young psychologist. I should have said, “Well, it takes one to know one,” or some such.

Dr. Instream explained the parapsychologists’ attitude toward the testing of ESP and suggested that Seth try clairvoyantly to perceive objects upon which the doctor would be concentrating. We would do this in each session. At 10 P.M. Mondays and Wednesdays, Dr. Instream would concentrate on an object in his study in the town in which he lived. At the same time Seth was to give his impressions, and each week we would mail the sessions to Dr. Instream. This time I agreed; so did Seth.

I wanted to find out if Seth could do what he said he could do. Dr. Instream wanted scientific evidence for the existence of clairvoyance, and we all hoped we could supply it. We’d set ourselves some goals! The months between August 1965 and October 1966 contained enough triumphs and disappointments to keep my head spinning. In the next chapter I’ll deal with that exciting—and perplexing—year.