Page 8 - The.Unobstructed.Universe
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presence with them.

"I found myself happy and twinkling, for no reason at all. I had a merry 
sense of Betty--out of a clear sky--apropos of nothing. No 
heartache--Just a merry and impudent nudge."--"I did not think I could 

stand it. But all evening I had a sense of Betty, and a feeling of peace 
that I had not thought possible."--"When I think of Betty I can't 
possibly pump up any feeling of desolation. She's just THERE"--this with 

a sense of amazement.--"It was an astonishing experience of amazing 
power.... I just called to her, and instantly she was there, and with a 
voltage that swept me right out of myself."

That sort of thing. And so much of it, and from such scattered sources, 
and from so many people who had no use for, or no knowledge of, 

"psychics." Explanation of fortuity and coincidence began to look rather 

But Betty appeared as yet to have nothing to say, in words. This might 
seem rather curious to anyone familiar with the type of work she had been 

doing for twenty years. That had involved her penetration into the higher 
consciousness, the state of being in which, presumably, she now dwelt; 
and her reporting back to me her experiences and findings. That was 

"communication from the other side." Also we had slowly come to know and 
trust a small group of friends who--incidentally to the friend ship--were 
gifted, as Betty was gifted, with her peculiar sensitiveness or talent. 

If anyone could "come back," as they say--and by that they generally mean 
come back in conversation--it certainly should be Betty.

Furthermore, a good many people wrote me, or asked me, whether I had 
"heard from Betty," and were bothered when I told them I had not--not in 
the sense of their inquiry. I was not bothered. On the contrary, I came 

at once to appreciate the wisdom of her course. For the very moment the 
ordinary and customary "message" was offered, that moment the brightness 
of her present demonstration must be--even if ever so slightly--dimmed. 

Admit my conviction that it is actually Betty speaking; admit my 
acceptance of authenticity as respects the body of the "message" 
received, there must always remain in my mind some slight question as to 

detail--how much is Betty; how much is the subconscious of the psychic?

To be sure, it can be, and is, sorted out in time. We had found that to 

be true. But, UNLESS SHE HAD SOMETHING IMPORTANT TO SAY, how could mere 
spoken words add to what, apparently, she was now trying so successfully 
to do?


In this frame of mind I flew East, in the early part of September, 1939. 

It was my first visit for many years. Though I had crossed the continent 
nearly a hundred times, I had never ceased to consider it inordinately 

wide, and the journey inordinately time-consuming. Well, I reflected as 
the plane touched earth, we have at last done something about that! In 
1884 it had taken me nearly a week to get to the Coast from Chicago. Here 

I was in Chicago for breakfast, and I had left San Francisco after dinner 
the night before! Time and space were no longer the barrier they had 
been. A trite enough reflection. But unknowingly I was hitting the 

keynote of my next big adventure.

My purpose had to do with a novel just written and in the process of 

publication, and with renewal in person of certain friendships that the 
said space and time had not been able to affect. These were many. Among 
them was that of a man and his wife who, twenty years ago, had published 

a book that has had a profound effect, in that it introduced certain new


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