SETH SPEAKS BY JANE ROBERTS
Bantam Books
I feel some anxiety about touting a book again. The act calls up too many embarrassing memories of talking friends into reading Ram Dass or Castaneda — believing that something important turned on it. 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.”
Still, there are worse sins than nudging your neighbor to look at the rainbow. Given a glimpse of infinity I’m hard pressed not to blurt it out over dinner. 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. No New Age cant. No cryptic pearls. No kissing the feet of the guru. Just the facts, friend. If they’re reading books a hundred years from now, they’ll be reading this one.
