“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.

As it turned out, it was Seth’s part in the book that bothered the publisher. If I’d played down Seth’s importance and concentrated on some of the other experiments that were also proving successful, then the book would have a very good chance, the editor told me. The other experiments included daily predictions and dream recall; and our dream recall work already had shown us the validity of precognitive dreams.

Rob and I were both practicing with predictions; they took but a few moments daily. We cleared our minds of objective thoughts and wrote down whatever came into our heads, trying to predict the day’s events. The trick was to give the intuitional self freedom and not to intellectualize. Results surprised us, and convinced us that most people have more knowledge of the future than they realize. We discovered, among other things, that we would often foresee different portions of one event.

I’m sure that most of us react ahead of time to some events, and I’ll have more to say about this later in the book. Since in all of these experiments Seth was helping us through actual suggestions and explanations as to how we perceive such information, I simply couldn’t minimize his importance just to get the ESP book published. To us, Seth and the Seth Material was making everything else possible.

Finally, though the editor was for the book, his publisher turned it down. I was really disappointed at losing the sale. As a result, I played around with the idea of publishing some of Seth’s ideas as my own and hiding their origin. This seemed dishonest, though, and I decided against it. Besides, I felt that the very fact of the sessions was psychologically fascinating, and brought up questions that were answered in the material itself. So I sent my eight chapters somewhere else, stopped work on the book for nearly a year, and devoted my working time to short stories which were published in various national magazines.

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.

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?

“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!

Remember, this was March of 1964. The sessions had only begun the previous December, and we’d had few instances of ESP in sessions, except for the physical effects that alternately intrigued and frightened me.

I just wasn’t ready, apparently, to put Seth or myself under any kind of test. I was afraid that Seth’s claim to clairvoyance might be subconscious bluff—his or mine—and I didn’t know if I had enough courage to call the bluff or not. And suppose it wasn’t bluff? I wasn’t ready to face that either! I just hadn’t come to terms with my experience yet. I thought of “testing” Seth in a highly rigid, uncompromising manner. Seth had to be right or wrong. The idea of hits and misses in ESP investigations was unknown to me. I had little notion of the inner mechanics involved in mediumship, and most likely my attitude effectively blocked any consistent demonstrations at that time.

I was angry at Dr. Osis for looking for signs or wonders (my interpretation, then, of his letter). Yet I knew that I was going to demand the same sort of thing when I got up enough nerve to put Seth, or myself, on the spot.

In the meantime, changes were occurring in my trance states. For the first year I paced the room constantly, while speaking for Seth. My eyes were open, the pupils dilated and much darker than usual. But in the 116th session, December of 1964, I sat down and closed my eyes for the first time. Rob wisely said nothing until the session was over. Seth told us that this was an experimental procedure and would not continue unless I gave full consent.

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 1964, though, when we wrote to Dr. Osis, the trance hadn’t achieved this depth, and I was just getting used to the idea of sitting down in sessions. During 1965 the Seth Material constantly accumulated at our twice weekly sessions. Early that year, Frederick Fell gave me a contract for the ESP book, and I had a deadline to meet.

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.

We were delighted at the prospect of meeting Dr. Instream, but in order to pay for the trip, including fees for symposium attendance, we would have to use our vacation money. Besides this, Rob was now working in the art department of a local greeting card company in the mornings, and painting in the afternoons. So we would have to take vacation time to make the trip.

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.

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.

“We have many fields of common interest, you and I. The personality must always be considered in an elemental way as patterns of action. When you attempt to tamper with various levels, you change them. When you crack an egg to discover what is inside, you ruin the egg. There are other ways to go about it. We do not need a hammer to crack the eggshell. … I am an egghead, but do not need a hammer to be cracked.” Here, Seth was smiling broadly.

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.

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.

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?”

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.

But the affair bothered me. It was to be some time before I completely trusted myself and my own reactions again. I also felt that I could no longer drag my feet: I had to find out what Seth could or couldn’t do.

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.

Then, on our return home, Rob had another idea. Suppose we tried something along the same lines on our own? So at the same time we initiated our envelope tests, in which Seth was asked to give his impressions of the contents of double sealed envelopes.