Roberts, a writer, and her artist-husband Rob were using an Ouija board in 1963 when Seth began forming messages. If they’re reading books a hundred years from now, they’ll be reading this one.ĭon’t be deterred by the cover, with its photograph of “author” Jane Roberts in a trance while Seth, a personality no longer focused in physical reality, is communicating through her. As I read Seth Speaks all those loose pieces of understanding - the assorted souvenirs of my journeys through inner space, meditations, psychedelics - fell into place. Given a glimpse of infinity I’m hard pressed not to blurt it out over dinner. Still, there are worse sins than nudging your neighbor to look at the rainbow. That kind of spiritual arm-twisting has consequences if nothing else, it reminds us, as Hesse observes in Siddhartha, that “what is of value and wisdom to one man seems nonsense to another.” The act calls up too many embarrassing memories of talking friends into reading Ram Dass or Castaneda - believing that something important turned on it. I feel some anxiety about touting a book again.
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