the Edgar Cayce readings, the mind, and the body are all interrelated through the use of these amazing castor oil packs, as you’ll see as you follow my adventures through the pages of this book. It has truly been an amazing journey for me through this environment we call the earth plane.
My most vivid memory of one part of the Bible—the 23rd Psalm—has me standing with my portable tape recorder in the very center of the Greek theater located just a stone’s throw from the spot where Aesculapius is said to have had his temple of sleeping and dreaming; where legend says that those who suffered with a diversity of illnesses came, slept, dreamed, and—in their sleep and dreaming—they were healed. I was standing there, surrounded by the ghosts of memories, listening to and recording the voice of Hugh Lynn Cayce, the son of Edgar Cayce, as he stood in the highest row of seats in this acoustically near-perfect theater, whispering the words of his favorite psalm.
The latter portion seems especially significant here: “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.” (v. 5-6) Jesus was called the Christ, the Anointed One, for the Christ means “anointed.” The mind of humanity through the centuries, apparently, has known that oil is necessary for anointing, though one cannot easily say why. One type of union with God, certainly, is symbolized by the anointing with oil. Is this perhaps a healing of another portion of ourselves?
To my mind, this is not unlikely for my experience has taught me that the greatest mystery in the universe is not outer space; it is not what might be found in the depths of the earth; but rather it is in the innermost parts of the human being, you or me, the entity, the soul that God created in the beginning and made in His image as a spiritual being.
These three seemingly diverse subjects—Aesculapius, the 23rd Psalm, and my chosen life profession—all appear to be related: dreaming is not only for the health of the mind, anointing is not only of the spirit, and healing is certainly not only of the physical body.
Perhaps it was, in part, this background which led me to begin investigation into the use of an oil which has its origins in antiquity; which, in turn, has almost been discarded by medical practice today; but which, in his psychic discourses for those who were ill, Edgar Cayce advocated for more than fifty different conditions of illness in the human body and to which he attributed some quite remarkable qualities.
Castor oil is still used in medicine as a cathartic, but my use of it in the form of a pack came about because of my familiarity with the Cayce readings, because of my study of them, and because I saw literally hundreds of instances in which such packs were advised for conditions of the body that seemed to be—in most instances—unrelated to each other. Yet each person was advised to use the same therapy.
It would be difficult to state now for what kind of condition I first recommended the use of the castor oil pack. As results came, however, its utilization became more and more frequent. After three or four years, I began my earlier report, which eventually became the book dealing with my experiences up to that time.
In the years that have passed since that first attempt to record the changes that occur within the physiological functioning of the body from the use of castor oil, literally thousands of individuals have benefited by castor oil applied as a pack and as a substance to be rubbed onto the body. There is probably no portion of the external human anatomy that has not been treated with this remarkable substance.
Then why not call it “the oil that heals”?
Chapter One
Don’t Forget to Smell the Dandelions
When I was a five-year-old boy playing on the hills that rimmed the Ohio valley, I discovered a magnificent flower. It had a wonderful yellow-orange face to it, which magically changed after a few weeks to a fluffy white ball of what my parents called seeds. To me, they were one of nature’s miracles—I could pick one of those long-stemmed objects of wonderment, hold it close to my mouth and gently blow, and off they would go, these little white floaters, into the wind to land far away from my sight.
But the flower itself carried even more interest for me. I used to lie down on the grass and smell the dandelion as it was clothed in all its glory. I wondered about that bit of nature. My nose told me there was not much of an odor, but an aroma of some sort did seem to be there. And I wondered, “What can the dandelion be good for?”
In my later years, it occurred to me that perhaps memories of a past life as a doctor using herbs could have been stirred deep within me, to give me that early interest in the dandelion. Most people think it is simply a weed, especially when it gets a good start on one’s lawn.
But that memory of lying there on the grass, not far from my home, smelling the dandelion has made its place in my life ever since. It symbolized for me the inquisitive spirit that must be in all individuals, if they are to understand their origin, their destiny, and the nature of all those mysteries that are locked within every created object that becomes part of our personal experience.
The dandelion (Taraxacum officinale), as a matter of fact, is a highly respected herb, nutritious in its nature and used to clear obstructions from and to stimulate the liver to detoxify poisons in the system. It has a strong alkalinizing effect to neutralize acids and acts as an eliminatory herb in maintaining body health and as a building agent. The leaves and the root are the active ingredients most commonly used, and dandelion tea is applied most frequently in renal, bladder, and liver difficulties.1
Perhaps the flower is there to catch one’s attention and thrill all those who are, by nature, inquisitive and investigative. But there is a value, too, and I’ve found that most of nature—given us through the kindness of God—is here to be used for aid and for help, once its use is determined.
The experience with the dandelion has proved to me that the commonplace things one tends to neglect in travels through the earth are often uncommon in their true value, so let’s always remember—even when we are grown and relatively sophisticated—to smell the dandelions.
It was not long after that that my mother died following surgery for pulmonary tuberculosis. I was seven, and I—like my two brothers—cried when I found out that mother had left us and would not be seen again. Some years later, when the idea of reincarnation became part of my belief system, I understood death as a passage from one room to another, from one environment which we call the earth plane to a spiritual setting where the surroundings are of a different vibratory nature. When we make that change, it is really I or you who steps into that other dimension.
When my mother died, I wasn’t wise enough to smell the dandelions in that experience. Looking back, however, I know there is truth in the concept that every experience is an opportunity for soul growth. If life is indeed continuous, my inner being must have been aware of that reality, and what Edgar Cayce had to say about it was my inner lesson:
Life is continuous! The soul moves on, gaining by each experience that necessary for its comprehending of its kinship and relationship to Divine. (1004-2)
My belief system was rooted early in the Presbyterian church, although I have had past incarnations, too, as a Catholic priest. But in this life, I chose parents who had adopted the Presbyterian approach to their understanding of the Divine. From the time I was twelve years old, I taught others about the biblical story. At first, I taught seven- and eight-year-old students. After many years, I taught adults. In between, I aimed my life toward the ministry, but changed it midstream to medical education.
But
