Process of Elimination

God in all wisdom has given you a body that takes in food nutrients, then as if by magic and without any conscious effort on your part, uses the good food material and eliminates the un-useful, even poisonous parts. This keeps your body strong and healthy, and this process of elimination goes on every day.

On the other hand, God in all wisdom, has not put into you this unconscious process of elimination in your conscious thinking and emotional processes. Being human, you tend to hold onto pleasant as well as unpleasant thoughts; healthy as well as unhealthy emotions. As long as you sip from a cup of toxic thoughts and emotions of anger, wrongs, hurts, hatred, grief, greed, desires for revenge–you become a toxic being. You lose your peace of mind and eventually become very unhealthy and very unhappy.

Some even take up toxic habits of consumption to ease feelings of unwellness: comfort foods that taste good but are unhealthy; alcohol; tobacco, etc. Such consumption delivers this person to an even lower level of unwellness, even to despair. What can we do?

Well, what does the body do? It eliminates toxins every day.

This tells us we must make a conscious effort every day to eliminate our own mental and emotional toxins. Perhaps at the end of the day just before sleep would be the ideal time for this purification.  This means cleansing prayers of forgiveness concerning your so-called transgressors; or letting go of a situation that seems unfair or uncalled for. Whatever is upsetting your emotional stomach and mind you must let go. What purpose does holding toxic feelings serve except to make you feel bad?

Does this mean we will be giddy with happiness all the time? Probably not.

Just as the body is unwell for short periods of time due to germs or viral infections–which take time for the body to round up and throw off–so too you will have eruptions and disruptions in your mental and emotional life to assimilate and digest and so regain your equilibrium and peace of mind. This is normal. What is harmful is if you are still stewing about something that happened years ago. This is indigestion. What can you do?

Sit down with yourself. Write about the person or events in your life that you are still dragging over the emotional coals after all these years. Don’t hold back. Write without stopping, without editing. Let it rip. Then prioritize these burning coals: the radioactive hottest–to those that are merely unpleasantly warm. Start with the hottest coal and pour cooling waters of forgiveness upon it. For instance: You couldn’t help what you did–I forgive you. It really taught me a powerful lesson that made me strong. Begin the process of elimination. This hottest coal may take many evening of serious meditation, prayer and journaling. Writing is good because it helps you communicate with yourself. Writing will give you gifts of understanding you don’t even realize are hidden within you.

What is the goal of elimination? This may sound far-fetched right now but the new state of digestion and tranquility sounds like this: You may have intended harm but instead you gave me gifts of strength and understanding I could receive in no other way. You appeared as my enemy. You left as my teacher. I now make choices to end being hateful and begin being grateful.

Yes, hard work. If you cannot do this, healing will not begin, unwellness will persist. If you try the process of elimination every night, healing will begin.

The cooling well of healing is waiting inside you right where God put it. You can drink the healing water or not. It is your choice to be well, or unwell. Read The Lord’s Prayer. Write it down. Post it in front of you. Begin your meditation with it. Realize the way to healing and purity was given to you a long time ago. Isn’t it time begin? Isn’t it time to drink from the well of wellness? Are you weary enough of being un-well?       Phil

Good News About You

Every great master teacher who comes into this world comes to teach–not for the purpose of being deified, glorified, bowed down to, or worshipped. The teacher comes to teach. To show you how it’s done. The master says, “What I do, you will do also.” The greatest story ever told is about the master being born into this world and then teaching love and forgiveness and overcoming pain and death. The story not very well told is all about you.

You are a royal child. Your mother is this earth, the divine queen, life incarnate. Your father is in heaven, the divine King, the invisible, powerful ideas that shape your life. But you do not believe you are a royal child. Life causes you to doubt your royal lineage and heritage. You doubt you are a divine child.

If you were a royal child wouldn’t you ride around in a gold carriage and sit on a velvet cushion eating bonbons all day? Things should be easier if you really were the King’s child, right? See again the greatest story ever told.

The master teacher has nothing to do with velvet cushions or bonbons. The master is doubted, ridiculed and tortured for proclaiming divine heritage for all people, and for claiming for all the sonship to the King of Heaven. Because the master teacher is completely familiar with the divine and invisible principles of the Father in Heaven as well as the physical laws of the visible Mother Earth, the master is able to perform what we call divine miracles–to give the children of this world hope. The master brings Heaven into Earth. Secular kings don’t like it, not in the distant past, not today.

The master teacher brings the keys that unlock the doorway into Heaven. Love one another. Forgive. Believe. Have real faith even as tiny as  a mustard seed, and you will move mountains. The master teacher hands these keys to us. The greatest story is our story. It’s all about you. Your pain, your struggle, it all matters. You have no idea how incredibly important you are. You are the seed the teacher is trying to grow. Yes, you.

The master teacher is worshipped not with words–but by practicing the lessons, the Keys. The progress of our story depends on the use of the Keys. Are you loving more? Forgiving more? Believing more? Or do you spend your time angry, in a fury, in a self-fulfilling cocoon of doubt?

The greatest story has been lived and told by the great master teachers. Now it’s your turn. You are the beautiful child of the King and Queen! Will you now take up your royal heritage of love and forgiveness? Will you awaken to who you really are? It’s the good news about you. Go now into the world and practice it. Yes, you.       Phil

Prelude to the novel, The Gold Hunter

“The lightning bolt is buried in these mountains. If you find it you gonna buy a castle? Get a dozen wives like a Mormon? Maybe you buy the moon?” He meant gold–the lightning bolt was Papa’s word for gold. Papa didn’t believe in gold. He believed in trees. Trees were his gold.

John Valory stood atop a Ponderosa pine log two feet in diameter, a king of trees compared to the princely pines back east. He was pulling hard on the upstroke of ten feet of ripsaw steel until his muscles bulged–and then coasting while his son pulled the sharp blade back down. The log lay horizontally split over a pit. His son was down in the hole pulling hard on the down stroke which covered him with golden sawdust. His son imagined the dust as showers of precious gold, the blood of kings and pharaohs. The son of John Valory dreamed great valleys of gold. He had dreamed of gold all the way from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania to California. He imagined what his father had not imagined. He had a secret he didn’t tell anyone. He believed he would find gold.

Today he would find gold. Today he would become the hunter not of deer or birds, but of precious metal. He would find his treasure right after they finished eating birthday cake. Today the dream of gold would come true.

June 12, 1852. It was his birthday today. It was the magic of seventeen. Petr John Valory (his Russian mother skipped the second ‘e’ in Petr to save ink) would get a few simple presents on this beautiful bright blue California Sunday. Then he would go gold hunting. What his father didn’t imagine was that he didn’t want to get presents, he wanted to give them.

Rumors of California gold ran wild. An ordinary man could make a fortune in a day. Rivers of solid gold lay hidden in mountain valleys and could be found and harvested with a pickaxe and a shovel. Indians could be relied on to trade frying pan sized chunks of gold for a pretty scarf or a few dozen beads. These stories were for fools, he knew that. But a young man like himself could find a reasonable amount of gold in California, enough for his dream of giving.

He stopped the ripsaw. He answered his father, “I’d build Mama a white house with blue shutters and I’d buy her a piano. I’d buy Annabel a good horse so she can ride around and stop pestering me.”

John stopped. “Yea?–and nothing for dear old me?”

“After I build you a water-powered saw mill,” he looked at the withered skin and tired face of the old Dane for a moment. “After that I’d bring a steam engine from San Francisco. Then you could pull levers and mind gauges all day while steam makes piles of lumber.”

John Valory laughed a good hearty laugh. “How soon can you find this goldmine?”

Papa had quit drinking on the way west but he was worn out. Pennsylvania had worn him thin from cutting boards for other men, for pennies. The old man wanted a lumber mill. Was that asking too much? California was for starting over. It could happen. Petr Valory could make it happen.

In the valley north was a big mining camp called Gold Nation where a big man named Dain King was hauling buckets of gold out of the river. He was buying every stick of lumber the Valory men could whip from the pit. He was getting gold and he was hungry for more. He was building a long wooden trough, a flume, to carry the river out of its bed so men could harvest its golden bottom. Dain King was dreaming big. Petr had seen him from a distance, a great bull of a man, a bronze dome for a head.

Papa kept Petr away from him. Papa wouldn’t let Petr go near him; he didn’t explain why. People had soft spots in their heads that weren’t rational. Petr had his own soft spots. His dream of finding gold maybe was one of them. But he definitely had an odd soft spot, too. He had fainting spells when he was a kid that sent him into a dream world. He had strange dreams that were more like memories than dreams.

He dreamed he had lived long ago in a far lost land of sands and pyramids and pharaohs. He was a flying prince–he became an invisible falcon soaring across great yellow deserts finding big veins of gold beneath the sand. He was a Gold Falcon. He kept that to himself because it was best not to talk about soft spots.

The doctor called his fainting spells seizures, but he called them ‘jim-jams’: the picture in his head flipped and that’s when he fell into one of his strange dreams. He simply was gone for a while. Being ‘away’ was more interesting than real life. In Egypt he had a dream name: Mahrire. And a pharaoh named Horemheb always sent him on a mission to find gold; and Mahrire fell in love with a beautiful dream girl named Mirael. It was better than life. He couldn’t talk about it.

Papa jabbed the long-saw into him. “Where’s your lucky creek?”

“Past the far end of the Valoryvale, past Big Jack’s cabin, past that ridge beyond his lake–to the west–I have a good feeling about that far west valley. I dreamed about it.”

Every gold hunter had a feeling about a far west valley. Men searched for it. Papa knew about the lost valley with its lake of gold. Everybody knew the story. Papa said it was a lie.

Late in 1849 a man named Tom Stoddard had found a lake filled with gold. Indians chased him away. (But what would Indians care about gold?) Spring of 1850 five hundred men went with Stoddard but they couldn’t find the lake again. Dain King was one of the ‘Gold Lake men’. Was Gold Lake still out there in some hidden valley?

Half a dozen small lakes lay hidden in that high west valley. Was one of them Gold Lake? He reckoned he would find it if it was out there.

Papa laughed. “You find it this afternoon, and we don’t have to do this anymore.”

There was a piercing steam whistle scream: “Eeee-eee! Yoo-hoo!” It was Annabel Rochele; the little Fifty-pounder, little Rocky, little Puzzle-puss, little Bee-bee, little Monkey-bump, dashing up to the pit.

“Come home now. It’s lunchtime now–then it’s you-know-what time!”

The sun rode at high noon. After his birthday party he knew she would follow him into the high valley. What to do with a lovesick puppy? That’s why he had to find some gold today (a reasonable amount like a hat-full). Then get Annabel a horse. Then a nice house for Mama. Then a saw mill for Papa. Then things would work out.

Father-son-daughter, walked hand-in-hand, three hundred yards back to the Valory log cabin. What happened late that afternoon in the high west valley changed things forever.

Gold Lake was a dream that turned into a nightmare.      (Available from Amazon)


One single measure of human evolution matters. Not numbers of libraries or universities, not sizes of cities, not vastness of technological wonders, not sizes of armies, not speed of rockets, not number of cars, phones or TV’s and RV’s per household. What then you ask could it be? What else matters in this world of shining wonders?

All these are simply play toys of the universe’s creative children and there’s nothing wrong with children playing toys. But what is the ground work, great work of the universe for those who have awakened from the long dream of childhood?

Works of love are the real concerns of this Earth-type, Goldilocks planet. Works of love–Labors of love. Things not done for profit, not for personal gain, not for fame, not for hire. Unselfish deeds. Giving of time, talent, treasure. With no need or desire to receive things in return. Generosity not just in times of abundance but sharing even the last crumb of bread in times of hunger. This is the evolution of the human being this world is designed to produce: loving, caring human beings.

Of course most of us are yet children of the universe, or at least exhibit childish tendencies. And this is not shameful or bad. Childhood is the wonderful time of shiny toys and delightful games. Not to mention a little pushing and shoving and crying. It doesn’t last forever–although it seems to on this earth where the news is filled with pushing and shoving and crying. But news is not the truth. Or rather it is a temporal-temporary truth.

This world has seen a few saints or divine beings (Mohammed, Buddha, Jesus, or name the one you prefer) functioning as human-divine adult beings with powers and understandings far beyond the ordinary children of earth–all of them fully functioning in what matters to the universe, all of them fully functioning in love.

There is nothing wrong with being a child. In the natural course of evolution all creatures must first be selfish to survive. Selfishness is the first order of the universe. You must survive! It is natural for the early part of our life to be more or less selfish. This is simply the beginner’s stage. But it isn’t the last order of the universe.

Soon we are called to do wonderful, loving deeds of kindness. Soon we manifest wonderful, loving things. This is evidence of our growing evolution in Love. The beginning of this evolution has to do with recognizing the universe’s abundant sources and resources constantly renewing themselves around us and surrounding us. A a big step for the child, the first big baby step outward of trust that the universe holds a safety net of love and energy beneath us and surrounding us. The world is full of so many illusions and delusions to the contrary. It is a big step getting past terrors of scarcity created by childish players. The truth is the earth is full of abundance that is constantly being squandered and horded by childish players. When we use our powerful telescopes to gaze out into the deeps of space we see vast displays of shining energy beyond human comprehension. The only poverty of the universe is in the human mind. We are here to overcome that illusion of poverty. How is it done? What would that take?

Once we recognize that we are children of the stars, children of the vast energy-filled universe, we can stop feeling insecure and needy. Confidence flows in. Transformation takes place. Does the creeping caterpillar really have any idea his future is as an iridescent flying being of the sky? The transforming thoughts are: The universe has surrounded me with abundance and power! It has given me exactly the gifts I need to achieve a certain mission in this life! I can live! I can love! I can fly! I can flow!

While this world continues to have the appearance of a noisy child’s nursery, Love is growing in the noisy nest. This is the only evolution that matters, the evolution from selfishness to love: Evolove. Yes, it’s spelled forwards and backwards the same if that gives you any clue to evolution. A palindrome, is our evolution.

It is up to you to recognize the world for what it really is: a place for children to learn how to grow in love. The universe is making human beings out of selfish beings. Do you have any idea how long that takes? (Hint: think in billions of years.)       Phil