Becoming a Miracle
by Paul Pearsall,
The "Abnormalcy Advantage"
What we call
"normal" in psychology is really a
psychopathology of the average, so undramatic and so
widely spread that we don't even notice it. —Abraham
"I see the balloons!" screamed little
Patsy. "I see the balloons! They're blowing them
all up right there for the parade. But that little
balloon won't stay up. It just can't hold air. It can't
keep the air inside it. It must feel like me."
Patsy was a miracle maker. She was only eight years
old but she had wisdom that many don't have even after
decades of living. Her favorite statement was,
"That's just the way." All of her games
followed the rules of "the way." She was
undergoing a bone marrow transplant as treatment for her
leukemia. She was in the hospital room next to mine, and
on this Thanksgiving morning, her screams were of
excitement and not from the pain of the needles that
usually began our mornings.
Patsy often sat with the nurses at their station.
They needed her to boost their courage on one of the
most stress-inducing units of any hospital. The entire
floor was sealed off from the rest of the hospital and
had its own air circulation to save us patients from
contracting infections. Our immunity was down to zero
because of chemotherapy and radiation, and our blood
counts would have signaled death under normal
circumstances. A common cold could have killed dozens of
us within days. Masks, gowns, and sterile gloves were
worn by everyone, including the limited number of
visitors, who always seemed so afraid when they came to
see us. Once on this unit, we patients seldom felt the
touch of another person's skin against our own. There
were many "almost hugs" that stopped short of
contact for fear of contamination. We learned to signal
our hugging by wrapping our arms around ourselves while
our loved ones hugged themselves.
All of us were on the verge of death. Almost half of
us would die. Most of us would be exposed to more
radiation than the workers in the nuclear accident in
Chernobyl. In fact, lessons learned from treating the
victims of nuclear accidents were applied to the
treatment of bone marrow transplant patients.
We were all in terrible pain, constantly vomiting and
losing control of our bowels at the same time. We were
sick with repeated infections, and festering oral sores
from the chemotherapy grew so large that they almost
sealed off our mouths and made swallowing nearly
impossible. We were all losing weight and had to be fed
through our veins because radiation treatments had
burned our appetites away. We ached where needles had
drilled into our bones to withdraw marrow samples. I
have never known such pain as the sensation of my own
marrow being sucked from deep within me.
A bone marrow transplant typically requires about two
months of hospitalization in almost total isolation.
Prior to this time, the most rigorous tests are
conducted and, ironically, the candidates for a
transplant must be in "good health" even
though they are dying. A "donor transplant" is
a process through which the patient receives bone marrow
provided by someone who perfectly matches the patient's
own. An autologous transplant, as in my case, requires
the removal of the patient's own marrow from the hip and
pelvic bones, sometimes "purging" or treating
it with intense chemotherapy, and then placing the
marrow back inside the body after the patient has had
days of near-lethal whole-body radiation and/or
chemotherapy. Including the diagnosis, evaluation,
numerous tests, chemotherapy and radiation therapy
transfusions, and lengthy recuperation during which the
immunity of the patient is so low that every cough and
sneeze causes a fear of death, the patient and his or
her family surrenders any semblance of a normal life for
about two years.
All of us looked like walking ghosts. "I have an
idea for a new diet," said Patsy one morning when
we all were getting weighed. "Everyone who wants to
look skinny can come here to get chemicals and rays.
Then they will look like us. They could go on our cancer
We could hear each other retching during the night
and crying all day, but Patsy would cry only for a
little while. Then she would hop onto her metal stand,
which held the IV bags and tubes that always dangled
beside each of us. Each stand was hung with several
different colored bags that ballooned out in fullness
with toxic chemicals designed to burn away any growing
cell in our body, the latest drugs to treat the many
infections we all contracted, and nutrients to keep us
alive while we were unable to eat and digest food. The
chemotherapy medications were equal-opportunity killers.
They attacked any fast-growing cell in the body whether
or not that cell was a normal hair or stomach-lining
cell or a killer cancer cell. The contents stung and
destroyed our veins so completely that the multiple
daily blood tests we received had to be taken from a
plastic catheter surgically implanted in our chests.
In the middle of the night, the nurses would come to
pop out the heparin seals that served as chemical corks
to hold back the blood in our chest tubes. The blood
would spurt out, sometimes soaking the patient, nurse,
and the bed. Hundreds of blood tests were necessary to
determine when transfusions would be needed to save our
lives. We sometimes tried to pretend we were not awake
when the blood was taken, but the smell of heparin and
our own blood would nauseate us. We patients cal1ed this
catheter the "Dracula Drain," but our feeble
attempt at humor could not mask our terror.
When we were given platelets to increase our blood
count, we would feel freezing cold. I shook so hard that
I still have soreness in my joints and muscles. A sudden
fever would result, followed by tremors, headache, and
nausea. All of this was overwhelming for a grown man,
but Patsy weathered each torturing procedure with humor
and strength. Her presence permeated the entire unit.
Patsy loved to ride her IV stand, crouched so low
that the nurses saw only what seemed to be an unguided
stand moving past their high counter. Patsy sneaked by
the nurses' station and rode what she called her
Christmas tree IV stand every day, and we all laughed at
this daily joke. She would often drag along dolls in her
parade and demanded that patients who were out for a
wobbly walk join her. We had to keep in line, because
that was Patsy's way. The nurses and doctors came to
rely on Patsy's procession as a boost to their morale
and energy, and we patients came to see her parade as a
form of protest against the overwhelming urge to give
Now, however, Patsy was losing her physical battle.
The transplant had taken just too much from her, and
although she had pulled through countless crises that
should have killed her, this time she would not survive.
A virus so small and so weak that almost any person
would never be bothered by it eventually would take
advantage of Patsy's lowered immunity and kill her.
First, there would be a slight fever and then, within
hours, Patsy would be gone. Still, she continued to
humble all of us with her strength and the making of her
On this Thanksgiving morning just before the crisis
that all of us feared could happen to any of us at any
time, her cries were of excitement about preparations
for the Detroit Thanksgiving Day parade that were taking
place (by coincidence) right underneath her window in
the hospital courtyard. She hollered with glee at the
big, multicolored balloons, and we all clustered to
Patsy's room, dragging our own Christmas tree IVs. Like
prisoners pressed up against the bars of our cell, we
looked down on the impending holiday celebration.
"But that one little balloon can't hold
air," said Patsy. She had been unusually pensive
the last several days, and we all noticed that Patsy's
parade was not taking place as regularly as it once did.
She became somber now as she pressed her nose to the
hospital window. We pretended we could not hear her
murmur, "That's just the way."
Suddenly, the little balloon inflated and floated
away from its handler and up into the sky. "There
it goes," yelled Patsy. "It's going to heaven,
but the parade is still going to go on, isn't it? There
are lots of balloons and air is everywhere. That's the
way it will be." With her words, the little
balloon's journey seemed to be a meaningful coincidence
for Patsy and for us all.
The Timelessness of Miracles
After my own bone marrow transplant, I almost died
from suffocation. A simple virus not unlike the one that
took Patsy's life attacked my lungs. As the nurses
rushed me to surgery and I gasped for air, my nurse
Carolyn said, "Remember Patsy and her parades.
Think of your lungs as balloons and try to fill them up
with air. Find the way." That's all she said, but
it was all she had to say. She knew I needed Patsy's
spirit then. I could barely breathe, but I relaxed as I
felt comfort in Patsy's principle of "the
I survived what was supposed to be an "always
fatal virus" to bone marrow transplant patients,
and I began to breathe again. I had been given strength
from Patsy. I knew her to be a miracle maker. I knew her
spirit was still making miracles for all of us. Patsy
had not survived her own illness, but miracles are not
measured individually and in linear time. The measure of
miracles is not living to an old age but of living life
with the confidence that there is much more to life than
just a local living. Miracles are not measured as
successes but as celebrations of the strength and
eternity of the human spirit.
The healing energy of Patsy's living provides clues
for what it takes to be a miracle maker. Patsy's life
must be measured in the depth and meaning she brought to
it, not in the number of her years and birthdays. The
science principles of nonlocality and nonlinearity are
proven through the power, pervasiveness, and permanence
of who Patsy always will be. Patsy lives forever in her
enduring relationship with all of us. The temple of
miracles is in our relationships and in our
connectedness to others, not in our body or our skills.
I will never see a balloon or a parade without feeling
If we use long life, heroic survival, and the
conquering of disease as the exclusive criteria of a
miracle, we are trapped into believing that miracles
"happen" only to a chosen few. We seem to
think that if we are very lucky, very good, or try very
hard, a miracle will happen "to" us and we
will achieve victory over time, space, disease, and
grief. But miracles are not payoffs for earned cosmic
points. Miracles occur when we perceive life from the
perspective of the cosmic laws or the "way it
is" in the universe.
If we are impressed only by the misguided miracles of
levitation or by dramatic stories of heroic patients
conquering disease, we fail to see the simple miracles
of a cloud moving at just the right time, a silver lunar
rainbow, or the glory of a Christmas tree IV protest
parade in support of healing. We can copy and learn from
miracle makers such as Patsy. They know how to do
Miracle makers like Patsy have found the way. As
philosopher Sengtsan writes, "For the unified mind
in accord with the Way all self-centered striving
ceases."1 In other words, miracles have
little to do with the survival of the self unless that
self is all of us. Miracle makers are aware of their
nonlocality as when Patsy saw herself as one with the
little balloon that escaped the confines of earth. They
know that their chosen view of their world designs that
world, as when Patsy made joyful parades in a place
where funeral processions were more likely. They know of
the principle of complementarity, as when Patsy saw our
potential for marching in her parade even as we wobbled
down the hospital hall. They know the hope that comes
with the uncertainty of life, as Patsy seemed to know
when she pensively looked out of her hospital window and
said that the parade would always go on even though some
balloons escaped. After more than twenty-five years of
clinical work with my seventeen miracle makers and after
my own near-death experiences, I now knew that we don't
have to go to gurus or channelers to find our role
models for miracle making; we just have to look for
people like Patsy.
An elitism of miracles has evolved in recent years.
Popular and scientific writers alike describe the
"heroic patient who conquers a fatal disease"
and gurus who have uncommon insight and clearness of
thought. There is talk of channelers, precognizers,
fortune-tellers, and mystics who are able to see what
the rest of us cannot.
My professional and personal experiences have taught
me that although some people may indeed have developed
their God-given capacity for uncommon consciousness,
they are only professional spiritual athletes. The true
gurus are common people who are able to cluster
coincidences around them and give them meaning. They are
free from the constraints of a local, time-limited view
of the world, but they have not surrendered their
rationality in achieving that freedom.
The Common Consciousness Cosmonauts
Brendan O'Regan, vice-president for research at the
Institute of Noetic Sciences in Sausalito, California,
analyzed data on miracles that are reported all over the
world. He visited Lourdes in France and Medjugore in
Yugoslavia, where an apparition of the Virgin Mary
appeared in 1981. He also reviewed more than 86o medical
journals and more than 3,000 individual articles on
"spontaneous cures" and "coincidental
remissions."2 His detailed analysis
provides insight into the characteristics of those
seeking miracles and the quality of being open to the
various manifestations of the miraculous.
Father Slavko, a Franciscan monk who holds a Ph.D. in
psychology and lives and works at the shrine at
Medjugore, has noticed common characteristics in those
people who are healed by their experience of going
there. O'Regan writes, "It's very often the people
who come and don't determinedly want healing who are
affected. They come with an open mind and ask for
healing but they have not come with this as the
single-minded purpose of their trip."3
My own experience working with my patients supports
this "openness to the Way" orientation of the
miracle makers. Just as it is not the library that
causes us to learn, so it is not the shrines at
Medjugore or Lourdes that provide the miracle. Miracle
makers go to shrines for a place to do, not find, their
miracle. It is not determination toward a
specific goal, but rather acceptance of cosmic life laws
and a desire to experience all sides of living to its
fullest that sets the stage for miracle making.
The Home on the Range Approach
"You always seem to look so pensive," said
Marjorie. She was the always-cheerful nurse who seemed
to believe in what I called the "home on the
range" approach to illness and healing. The famous
song titled "Home on the Range" contains the
phrase "where seldom is heard a discouraging word
and the skies are not cloudy all day."
Although Marjorie's optimism was sincere, too often
some people practice a pseudopsychology of
mind-over-matter healing that suggests that we be
upbeat, courageous, and maintain a positive attitude at
all times. While there is nothing wrong with
cheerfulness, I have found reflection, yearning, and
private searching for life's meaning also to be key
steps in the making of miracles. Crying in awe of the
endurance of the human spirit is as healing as laughing
Suffering increases the potential for meaningful
miracles because suffering increases our awareness of
the nonlocality of the self. The suffering of cancer and
its related treatments forced my attention away from
"me" and toward a deep reflection on the
nature of life and its meaning, a sense of my connection
with everyone and everything, and direct, personal
experience of the "Way" things are.
In his study of those who have made their own
miracles, psychologist Brendan O'Regan did not see the
ever-happy and cheerful orientation of popular
psychology. He writes, "There is a sad, faraway
look in their eyes . . . that is unmistakable. It seems
like a kind of yearning for something, the search for a
memory."4 O'Regan may have mistaken for
sadness a contemplative state that I have seen in the
miracle makers whom I have studied. The yearning of the
miracle maker is a yearning for the finding of the Way.
Perhaps the "farawayness" in their eyes was
evidence of their realization of their nonlocality and
the fact that none of us are trapped "here."
The memory for which O'Regan's patients seem to be
searching may be our collective capacity to transcend
our physical state and to put our spirits to work in the
making of our miracles.
Aldous Huxley writes, "The capacity to suffer
arises where there is imperfection, disunity and
separation from an embracing totality."5
A key step in making miracles is to be aware of how much
more you are than just a body in a specific moment and
place. Instead of being home on the range, miracles are
found by working toward an awareness of our true nature
as being everywhere.
Vittorio Micheli Went for a Walk
Miracologist and researcher O'Regan describes a case
similar to my own.6 He discusses an event
that happened in May 1962 involving a middle-aged
Italian man with a large tumor in his left pelvic area.
(My soccer-ball-size tumor was in the right side of my
pelvis.) O'Regan reports that the tumor was so massive
that it ate away this man's left hip and left him in
excruciating pain. (My tumor ate away my right hip and
the pain I experienced was immense and totally
debilitating.) As in my case, a biopsy showed that the
tumor was an aggressive, usually fatal, form of cancer.
For some reason, the man did not receive treatments
for ten months. I was misdiagnosed for eight months, and
in both of our cases, our skeletons were being
destroyed. The man went to Lourdes, where he was bathed.
Reports from the Medical Commission of Lourdes record
that, exactly as I experienced, the man had lost
significant amounts of weight, was in constant pain, and
was unable to eat.
After his return from Lourdes, according to O'Regan's
report, Mr. Micheli began to regain his appetite and
noticed more mobility in his legs. About one month
later, doctors took X rays. The man's cancer, as in my
case, had decreased significantly in size. Then, in May
1963, the tumor disappeared and, as reported by
physician Larry Dossey, "Another event happened
that was even more amazing than the disappearance of the
tumor. The bone of the pelvis, hip, and femur began to
regrow, and with time completely reconstructed itself!
Two months after being bathed at Lourdes, Vittono
Micheli went for a walk."7
The physician's report of Mr. Micheli's case read, in
part, "The X rays confirm categorically and without
doubt that an unforeseen and even overwhelming bone
reconstruction has taken place of a type unknown in the
annals of world medicine. The patient is alive and in a
flourishing state of health nine years after his return
My own report reads, "Dr. Pearsall has
experienced a miraculous cure. His prognosis is
excellent." My X rays had to be repeated because
the radiologists could not be convinced that my current
films were truly my own. "There has been a terrible
mistake," one doctor said to me. "We lost your
X rays and we have the wrong set. This man's bones are
fully intact." Repeat X rays confirmed the miracle.
Vittorio and I lived a very similar miracle.
I did not go to Lourdes, but I did go to my family
and to my healing place in Maui. I employed several
assistant miracle makers from the ranks of doctors and
nurses. My nurses Carolyn, Marjorie, Betsy, and others
never let local problems determine my fate. They
never yielded to the certainty that can convert a
diagnosis to a verdict, and they never allowed the
limited point of view of an expert observer to
determine the course of my healing or prevent them from
helping to save my life in any way they could. The
skilled and creative team of doctors on the Bone Marrow
Transplant Team at Harper Hospital of Detroit (part of
the Wayne State University Medical Center) were always
open to the complementary side of every medical
option. While they battled my disease on a
"particle" level, my little "medicine
girl" Patsy, my family, and the other courageous
patients on my transplant unit kept me connected with
the life-saving "waves" of love. Miracles are
always an "us" thing, and miracle makers are
very good at making nonlocal, spiritual connections with
people (I will examine the loving nature of the miracle
maker in more detail in chapter 5). Every day, there are
miracles in families who manage to give their impaired
children joyful lives, who survive the ravages of
substance abuse, and who hold together as individuals
and as a family through the most trying times. Miracles
are not reserved for heroic "survivors."
Miracles are made when people live life with meaning and
satisfaction, even when negative circumstances surround
The Midas Mistake and the Danger of Making Wishes
Miracle making has nothing to do with making wishes.
People who make wishes are taking a dangerous risk. As
in fairy tales, most of our wishes come true.
Unfortunately, we usually regret getting what we wished
for because our wishes ultimately contradict the
principles of the cosmos. We make the mistake of wishing
for "our" way instead of the Way of Patsy's
We tend to make what I call the "Midas
Mistake." King Midas wished that everything he
touched be turned to gold. He got his wish, and with it
he lost forever the warmth and loving he really needed
as those around him turned to cold, unresponsive gold
metal. The miracle he wished for ultimately isolated and
destroyed him and all those around him.
If we wish for miracles, we not only fail to exercise
our own miracle-making capabilities but we are trying to
assume the impossible position of a nonparticipant
observer who is asking the world to change around, but
not because of, us. Moreover, we run the risk of
suffering from the attainment of our wish, because our
certainty about how our world "should" be
conflicts with the uncertainty principle that rules the
cosmos. Wishing implies that having all of something is
better than having a complementary balance in living.
This conviction violates the complementarity principle.
Miracle making involves the active embracing of the Way
of our spiritual life, but it does not imply an
acquiescent, helpless view of living. The act of
wishing, in contrast, suggests a passive role rather
than the participatory observer role so basic to the
laws of the cosmos. Wishing denotes a request for
intervention from "without," which violates
the law of nonlocality that emphasizes the unity of
everything and everyone. Miracle making represents a
discovery of a new way of knowing from
"within." If wishing is longing for
love, then miracle making is active loving through
every crisis and challenge in daily living.
If you wish for perfect health forever, you will
never know what perfect health really is because you
will never know the complementary side of health, which
is illness. If you wish for perfect love with no
conflict in your relationships, you will never value
fully the miracle of being loved because you have never
known the pain of its loss. Wished-for love is a passive
love; love attained is an active, volitional state. Just
as miracles do not happen to us, love does not happen to
us. We make love by doing it, showing it, and realizing
that, like illness is a part of health, so hurt and loss
are a part of loving. Finally, if you wish for
immortality, you will not share the full journey of life
with those you love. You will end up always being the
person losing other persons and never be the person who
When I teach about the art of miracle making, I ask
my patients and students to ask themselves the following
question: If you could have just one wish and be
guaranteed that your wish would come true, what would
that wish be? No matter what they answer, I ask them to
consider the principle of complementarity: What about
the exact opposite of your wish? Might that not make you
equally happy in a different way? Are you really so
certain about your wish?
If you wish for wealth, for example, would you not be
as happy with simplicity? If your wish were granted,
would you truly be happy with the complexities
and obligations that come with wealth? If you wish for
health, would you ever want to know what everyone else
will know and learn from their times of sickness and
suffering; will you miss the blessed feeling of renewed
energy, the resumption of living, and the spiritual
introspection that come with illness? Would you want to
be the only one among your friends and loved ones who
was healthy, unable to understand others' suffering?
We humans tend to think that if a little bit of
something is nice, even more would be better.9
This is the local, one-cause-equals-one-effect, linear
view of the world. Actually, the laws of physics teach
that a little bit of something is just enough so long as
we remember the complementary side of everything we
think we want or need. That is why miracle makers are
not wishers for more; they are readers of what is. They
are active and participating observers of their own
lives and the lives of those around them.
Becoming Miracle Prone
Based on my own experiences with miracles,10
my clinical study of meaningful coincidences and of
seventeen patients who beat the odds by not allowing a
diagnosis of death to be a wrongful verdict of
nothingness, and research by others in this most
exciting of human adventures, I have identified six
characteristics of people who are what I call miracle
prone. These are
- A confident, erect posture with eyes that convey a
spiritual energy and a knowing beyond the
rational, logical, simplistic knowing of everyday
living. They seem to know that their role of observer
is crucial to what they will see.
- Experience with several crises, and in the process,
the development of a psychic toughness, as well
as an awareness that there is always a complementary side
to even the most apparently hopeless situation.
- A yearning for much more from life than mere
coping, survival, success, and security. A desire to
behave in ways compatible with our nonlocality or
transcendence of the here and now. A simplicity of
lifestyle free of the need to acquire goods and possess
expensive, complex things.
- An abnormal attitude in the sense that they
are creative and have avoided becoming "well
adjusted" to a linear, stressful,
- A tendency to be psychic gamblers because
they are willing to take risks for the fulfillment of
their dreams and to give meaning to the signals sent by
the coincidences in their lives. They think in a
freewheeling style that reflects the uncertainty of
all of life.
The remainder of this chapter will explore each of
these characteristics in greater detail. I invite you to
learn the skill of miracle making from this list, for it
is a skill that most certainly will make your life much
more lively—and may even save your life, as it did
The Look of the Lucky
As Brendan O'Regan writes, people who experience
miracles "are in a very different place
psychologically, emotionally, and indeed
psychophysiologically."11 Most miracle
makers resemble this description by an oncology nurse
who treated me:
Every one of the patients who made it happen, who
made miracles, looked the same. It was in their eyes,
their posture, their hands, and their body. They had a
dreamy look, like they were somewhere else other than
here getting their treatments. I even had to tell them
when the treatment was over. It was like I had to bring
them back to earth. They also had what I call gentle
moving hands. They touched softly, easily, and gently.
Maybe it was because they were all weak, but I think
they touched like that naturally. They all stood
upright, as if their body was being held up by something
other than muscles and bones. And I know this sounds
terrible, but they all seemed to be skinny. Not because
they had lost weight or were sick. They were on the trim
side, each one of them. That's it. Dreamy, skinny,
gentle, and upright.12
I make no claim that my seventeen MMs are
scientifically representative of a "type" of
person. I am sure, however, that they and I were
physically altered by the impact of a life orientation.
I believe that miracle makers look "dreamy"
because they experience the nonlocality of our
existence. They look dreamy because they have a dream
that transcends the here and now
The energy expended in making miracles can burn off
calories just like any other form of exercise. If there
is sometimes a gaunt, drawn look to miracle makers, it
may be due to their constant energetic exchange with
everyone and everything. These are players in the major
leagues of our nonlocality.
Miracle makers move and touch gently because in many
ways they are just barely in their own body. Movements
are made of necessity, but the soul is of the essence.
I believe that miracle makers stand tall because they
are buttressed by their awareness of the glory of it
all; their appreciation of the unrestricted, unlimited,
immortal human spirit. Their bodies are not just held up
by muscle and bone. They are buoyed in the often
turbulent sea of daily living by their cosmic
There are many plausible explanations for this
"look of the lucky." Perhaps poor appetite,
fear, depression, helplessness, and side effects of
their many physical problems contribute more
significantly to the look than their choice of a
nonlocal view of living. That is the traditional, easy,
local view. I choose the more radical, nonlocal view. I
hope you will make the same choice.
The Psychic Toughness Response
There have been numerous books and articles about the
fight-or-flight response, the sexual response, and the
relaxation response. Recent research suggests that there
is also a "toughness response," a training of
the body and mind to better tolerate the neurochemical
effects of stress through constant stress exercise. Just
as someone lifts weights to develop physical strength,
so the person with psychic toughness has carried many
heavy loads, thereby conditioning themselves through
their minicrises. As a result, their psychophysiological
strength and adaptability develops to a higher level of
When working with paraplegic men and women, I noticed
that they typically showed this psychic toughness
response. Perhaps because paraplegic persons are unable
to use their bodies to cope with some challenges, they
must develop a sharper mental toughness. They can lose
their temper and get upset without paying the price that
less-tough individuals pay when the killer stress
chemicals shoot through the body, stimulating it to
fight or flee.
The MMs all showed a psychic toughness. They had
dealt with several stressors in their life before their
present severe crises and had heightened coping
capacity. In the film Lawrence of Arabia, T. E.
Lawrence performs a minor miracle. He holds his hand
over a candle flame until his flesh starts to cook. When
his friend tries this same trick, he screams in pain as
he pulls away He asks Lawrence if the flame did not hurt
his hand. Lawrence answers, "Yes, but the trick is
not to mind."
Like magicians mastering sleight of hand, the MMs all
had learned the skill that I call sleight of mind. They
had become psychically toughened by a series of pain and
suffering, and they had learned not to react only with
their body. Thus they functioned within the realm of
nonlocality, dispersing their pain rather than focusing
on it as an exclusive somatic experience.
I have attempted to describe the pain of my illness
and treatments throughout this book. I have found the
task to be impossible. In her essay "On Being
Ill," author Virginia Woolf writes that our
language can express the images of Hamlet and the
tragedy of Lear, but "try to describe a pain . . .
to a doctor and language at once runs dry." The
description of pain eludes us because pain is such a
subjective event. Because it is subjective, we ourselves
give it most of its power and meaning.
When we have been forced to cope with severe pain
many times, we learn a sleight of mind to prevent pain
from overwhelming us. The miracle maker converts severe
pain to an energy to escape local suffering to the
safety of other realms of reality. If we have developed
a psychological toughness, severe pain drives us from
our body and into our souls.
A friend of mine asked me how I could possibly deal
with a diagnosis of death and all of the related
suffering of my disease. I answered, "Just like
other people in my situation, this is not the first
problem in my life. My wife and I struggled through
painful tests to 'confirm' a diagnosis of infertility
only to have our own biological child years later. We
now have one son with cerebral palsy and another with a
severe learning disability and dyslexia. My wife and I
have seen our fathers die suddenly. I have had six
surgeries and faced the possibility of blindness twice
because of retinal detachments. We've been here before.
We call it our agony aerobics. I think we've
built up a torture tolerance."
My friend laughed, but I was serious. I believe that
we can develop spiritual stamina. Following the
principle of complementarity crises complement healing.
Miracle makers use their problems to make themselves
stronger. We learn to make miracles out of madness when
we get used to dealing with madness on a regular basis.
If your own life seems problem prone, you are in
forced training for miracle making. Your choice is
whether to view the apparent unfairness of so many
problems happening to one person or family as
victimization or as a painful part of learning to make
Yearning for More
Miracle makers are actively engaged in a search for
the meaning of life. No coincidence is a
"simple" coincidence to the miracle maker. As
one MM said, "Everything means something."
Something inside the MM knows that there are many ways
to know, and so the miracle maker is locked in the
pursuit of a meaning to life that extends far beyond
success and survival.
Two unusual words describe the focus of the miracle
maker: ineffability and noesis. Ineffability
refers to an experience of our nonlocality of such
power, so different from the sense-oriented, local view
of life that it almost defies description. "I can't
say it or tell it," said eight-year-old Patsy, the
little miracle maker on the bone marrow transplant unit.
"It's really strange at night when you think you
have a new bone marrow but you don't have a new you.
Where are you and who are you? I don't know. I mean I
think I know, but I can't tell it."
Patsy spoke in metaphors when she spoke of the
balloon that broke away. Religious figures, prophets,
and wise people often speak in parables, analogies, or
riddles because they are trying to describe things that
are indescribable using our ordinary vocabulary.
Illustrating meaning through metaphor is one way to
communicate the ineffable.
Noesis refers to the sense of heightened clarity and
nonlocality that miracle makers experience. Early works
refer to such knowing as "cosmic
consciousness"15 or "peak
experiences."16 Psychologist Roger Walsh
writes of this reality as being "so discordant with
our usual picture of reality, so paradoxical, as to defy
description in traditional terms and theories and to
call into question some of the most fundamental
assumptions of Western science and philosophy."17
If you choose to be a miracle maker, another choice
you will have to make is whether or not you are willing
to embark on a search for the meaning of the cosmic
occurrences and meaningful miracles that show our human
spirit in action.
We must, of course, earn our living, raise our
children, and survive in the whirlwind of obligations of
daily life. We must do what is necessary to adapt to the
see-and-touch world, but we must realize that no matter
how much we are "doing," we can still
contemplate our "being" and our purpose for
being. Like everyone else, I spend time balancing my
checkbook, paying my taxes, going to the dentist,
cleaning the house, and fixing the car. Even as I do
what is necessary, however, the principle of
complementarity causes me to think of how close I have
come to not being able to do anything again. I think
about what is truly miraculous about being alive and
ponder why I am doing what I am doing. I can
remember my dreams and monitor my life for its fit with
those dreams. Am I loving enough, working at what I
choose to work at, writing books I believe in, reading
what I would like to read, and spending time with my
loved ones? Am I remembering my connection with
everyone, my responsibilities to the world ecology and
to the welfare of others, and the fact that I must never
stop yearning for the miracle of peace, harmony and
sharing? Whenever I start to feel too content, I know
that such satisfaction stems from the see-and-touch
world's seduction with doing rather than the miracle of
Freedom from "Stuff-itis"
When you face death, one of the first things you
learn is how unimportant "stuff" is. One of my
seventeen MMs, a biophysicist who recently died of
cancer, had created many of his own miracles before and
during his illness. He had outlived the most dire
predictions about his condition. He said,
I used to be a molecule collector. I was into getting
more and more particles. Now, I'm a meaning collector.
I'm into getting more and more waves, more and more
energy in my life; more spirit and less stuff. My wife
and I had so much stuff that we graduated to the
postgraduate level of garage sale shopping: We found
ourselves going to garage sales to find holders for the
stuff that we bought at other garage sales! Now, I want
to spend my time without stuff all around me. I want to
feel sun and wind, the rain, the night. I want to feel
myself thinking and feeling. I don't want stuff—getting
stuff, finding and protecting and maintaining stuff—to
get in the way anymore. I want to live my life, not
spend it sorting through the clutter that really has
nothing to do with living.
So I could visit my mother, we visited Michigan
during the summer, and my wife set up a hospital room in
our home there during my first chemotherapy As I lay in
a hospital bed in the family room, I watched my neighbor
trimming the large bushes around his swimming pool. My
neighbor started in early spring and swore all summer
long as he cut at the bushes he had planted there and
the bushes cut him back. He saw no relationship between
himself and the natural vegetation, which had become
invading stuff that detracted from his more important
stuff, such as his pool and walls of his house. I never
saw him admire his landscaping as he struggled to
control it. He found no joy in his yard, but at the end
of the summer, I saw him bring home more than a dozen
new bushes to fight with next spring. I promised myself
that day that if I was given more time to live I would
attend more to relating with instead of working
on my world.
I have learned to take time to look at my yard at
least as often as I work in it. Until I was forced by my
illness to take the time to look, I never noticed how
much time we spend maintaining rather than enjoying our
life. Now, when I cut my lawn or prune my bushes, I copy
my Maui gardener, Pete, who always paused to smell, talk
to, touch, and look at the natural beauty around him.
For the first time, I have seen where I live instead of
rushing through my world. Now when I walk around my
yard, I can feel the bushes, lawn, and flowers rather
than see them as potential chores. They continue to cure
me by their very presence, and I sense the miracle in
the existence they share with me.
A key choice in learning to make miracles is deciding
whether or not you will be a consumer or be consumed.
There is little time for miracle making when you are
busy fixing, repairing, maintaining, and getting.
Comedienne Erma Bombeck wrote, "Never buy
anything that eats or needs repairing."18
This philosophy of simplicity can clear the way for more
meaningful living. During one of the most dreadful
moments of his illness, a young bank executive MM said,
"I've done, gotten, broken, and fixed almost
everything, but I don't remember living."
We all must take care of the place we live, buy
clothes to wear, and keep some order in our lives. If we
are to make miracles, however, we must remember that the
stuff of our lives are only the necessary facilitators
for our movement within our physical world, not
objectives in themselves.
When I went into the hospital for my bone marrow
transplant, the nurses told me that I could bring
everything I needed. "You'll be living here for
months, so bring what you need," said one nurse. I
knew I would be busy trying to make miracles, so I
wondered what I would really need to do so. What stuff
would you take along for miracle making?
For me, the choice was easy I took plenty of paper
and pens. I asked several of my family and friends to
buy me books that they were sure I would not read. I
asked for books I would never buy for myself. I was
hoping that I could create some meaningful coincidences
by this merging of paper, pen, and new ideas. My wife
bought me a book titled What Are the Chances? by
Bernard Siski and Jerome Staller. It's a thin book with
nothing but statistical chances listed throughout.
One day, as I suffered through some particularly
painful chemotherapy and was wondering how I could have
come down with cancer when no one in my family had ever
had it and I never smoked and had followed almost every
healthcare warning, I grabbed the book my wife had given
me, thinking that its lack of plot and simple listing of
interesting facts would distract me. I randomly opened
the book to the middle and read, "Radiological
studies of the gastrointestinal tract . . . are 90 times
[the radiation] that you are exposed to during a typical
Over the last fifteen years, I had received dozens of
X rays of the abdominal area as part of the diagnosis
and treatment of kidney stones, and I mentioned this at
once to my doctors. They now tell me that it is possible
that these powerful X rays may have contributed to my
developing cancer. By coincidence, a meaningful clue to
the etiology of my disease had been revealed, as well as
a clue for preventing its recurrence by avoiding X rays
as much as possible. A meaningful coincidence had taken
place that would direct my healthcare.
The Energy of Insight and the Challenge of Change
As a therapist, I have noticed that meaningful
coincidences happen very often to my patients just at a
key time of transition in their life, when they are
confronting a particularly difficult decision or choice,
or when they are on the verge of a meaningful insight
regarding their life situation. As psychologist Carl
Jung suspected, it seems as if the therapist and the
patient were able to tap into their collective
unconscious, mobilizing the energy involved in
significant synchronous events.20
This phenomenon of patient-therapist miracle making
is confirmed by Swiss analyst and physicist Arnold
Mindel.21 Award-winning physicist Werner
Heisenberg (founder of the uncertainty principle) was
impressed by Mindel's work and supported Mindel's
conclusion that an enormous amount of energy is released
at key times in our lives, explaining why
synchronicities often occur around birthdays, deaths,
falling in love, during important periods in
psychotherapy, intense creative work, a change in
profession, or serious illness and healing.22
Arnold Mindel gives the example of a mentally
disturbed patient who claimed that he was Jesus, the
creator and destroyer of light. At that very moment, a
lighting fixture dropped from the ceiling, knocking the
man unconscious.23 Therapist friends of mine
describe similar coincidences taking place when there
"seems to be a lot of changing energy going
on." To make miracles, we must choose to make
change happen, and as psychiatrist Scott Peck suggests,
intentionally take the road less traveled. Peck writes,
"Problems call forth our courage and our wisdom;
indeed they create our courage and our wisdom. It is
only because of problems that we grow mentally and
Benjamin Franklin wrote, "Those things that
hurt, instruct."25 When we choose change
and make the effort to grow and become, we hurt.
When we hurt, as from cancer, grief, or lost love, there
is always the possibility of meaningful change in our
view of our life. When we hurt and make transitions,
meaningful coincidences and miracles take place. Miracle
makers have chosen not to take the easy,
"normal," well-adjusted road. They have chosen
to create their own emergencies of spiritual growth and
to take part in the wonderful events that happen when
the energy of an evolving spirit is set free.
Taking the Gamble of Creativity
As pointed out earlier, most of the major discoveries
of our world are related to meaningful coincidences. One
of the primary characteristics of miracle makers is
their constant surveillance for coincidences in their
lives and their willingness to take the gamble of
following the lead of a miracle.
When we coincidentally discover a picture of a
relative whom we have not seen for years, we may choose
to look at it briefly and put it away or we may
"gamble" by giving meaning to the coincidence
and trying to make contact with that relative
immediately. One MM said, "I was cleaning our
basement and found an old toy my sister and I had played
with years and years ago. I was going to just throw it
away and keep cleaning, but instead I stopped working,
went to the phone, and called her long distance. When
she answered the phone, she was crying. She said, 'I was
just feeling so lonely. Your call came at just the right
time.'" The MM's gamble paid off.
One of the most creative men of the last century was
Buckminster Fuller. He wrote, "None of us is a
genius. Some of us are just less damaged than
most."26 He meant that some of us manage
to escape the confines of traditional education, which
stresses compliance and achievement at the price of
creativity. If you want to make your own miracles, you
might learn from the miracle makers and become a
Jungians, those therapists who follow the research
and writing of psychologist Carl Jung, refer to the
"Gambler Syndrome." The Jungian gambler is a
person who is willing to risk everything on the
metaphorical turn of a given card in the game of life.
Such major chance taking is sometimes necessary when the
stakes are high, such as times of decision regarding a
major medical treatment or the choice of someone to love
"More than 40 percent of patients such as
yourself who get a bone marrow transplant do not survive
the procedure, the X rays, and the chemotherapy. We
cannot tell you what to do. The decision is yours,"
said Dr. Lyle Senrisenbrenner, who was leader of the
transplant team at Harper Hospital. He is a robust man
with a mustache that makes him look like one of the
captains of the charter boats in Maui's Maalaea Bay. My
wife says that he is of average height, but—probably
because he helped save my life and because I was always
in a wheelchair or hospital bed looking up at him for
hope—I remember him as a giant of a man. On this
occasion, he explained to my wife and me all of the
details relating to one of the most dramatic treatments
for cancer in modern medicine: the bone marrow
transplant with its whole-body radiation and an almost
totally destructive form of chemotherapy.
My wife and I decided to go ahead with the treatment.
When we returned for my final preparation, however, the
nurse said, "I'm sorry but before we can proceed,
Dr. Sennsenbrenner wants to talk to you and your wife.
He'll see you after lunch."
I said, "Something is wrong, isn't it? We are
not going to be able to do this one thing that can save
The nurse answered, "You'll have to talk with
That nonanswer was answer enough. After the agony of
deciding whether or not to undergo a lifesaving
procedure that could kill me, something was going to
exclude me from the procedure.
My wife and I sat with our lunch untouched. We cried
again as everything seemed to be coming down on us at
once. I thought, "Psychic toughness is one thing,
but this has got to be overtraining." Our lunch
hour seemed more like a year. It ended with us sitting
miserably in Dr. Sennsenbrenner's office.
As always, Dr. Sennsenbrenner rushed into his office.
He sat down at a table with his nurse, rny wife, and I.
"I'm afraid there may be something wrong with your
bone marrow. A bone marrow transplant will be more
difficult now. We'll have to treat your marrow, too, so
the risks are all increased."
"You won't tell me what you think my chances
are, will you?" I asked him. "I gave you the
statistics," he answered. "Since we'll have to
purge your marrow, you probably have much less than a
fifty-fifty chance of surviving the transplant and its
aftermath. Without the procedure, you will likely not
survive for long, but most of your last months would not
be as terrible as some of the transplant procedure
side-effects will be. I'm sorry but, of course, it's
your decision," he answered.
I felt like a gambler about to turn over the one card
that either would total twenty-one or cause me to lose
everything and suffer dreadfully in the process. In that
instant, I felt a severe shot of pain through my hips,
where my cancer was. My wife asked, "What's wrong?
You must have jumped a foot in the air. You almost
levitated right up to the ceiling!"
"Just a reminder, I guess," I answered,
knowing now that I would gamble everything to be given
the chance to live. I took that chance. The fact that my
own marrow was treated for cancer did put me in much
more jeopardy. There was now the chance that my marrow
would not survive the purging and lay dead in its
storage container in the basement of the hospital while
my body starved to death for the cells that only marrow
can produce. Now, both my marrow and I would have to
undergo treatment separately and hope that we would be
safely reunited before one or the other of us was killed
by our treatment. That one major gamble is partly
responsible for the fact that all of my cancer is gone.
At home, before my hospitalization for the transplant
and while waiting for the nine-inch wound left by
exploratory surgery to heal, I was filing away my
lecture material and preparing to take the risk of my
life. As I shuffled things around, a piece of paper
floated to the floor. I picked it up and read it. It was
a quote by Robert Louis Stevenson that I had written
down for future lectures. It read, "Life is not a
matter of holding good cards, but of playing a poor hand
well."27 I was ready to play the game to
The seventeen MMs were all gamblers in the sense
described here. One young woman reported, "I just
wasn't sure about loving him. I mean, he seemed to be
the one for me, but it was going to be a big risk. He
was not divorced yet, he was older than I, and he came
from a totally different educational and religious
background. I was sitting there looking at his picture
and eating peanuts. I was throwing them high in the air
and trying to catch them in my mouth. They kept hitting
me in the eye and on the forehead. Then, for some
reason, I decided that if that next peanut goes in my
mouth, I'm going to go for it. I'm going to get serious
about him. I threw the next peanut higher than any
other, and it seemed to hover in the air trying to make
up its mind. It was a direct hit. We're happily married
now. It's a lucky thing that peanut hit the
This story may sound strange, and it may seem to be
poor judgment to base a romantic decision on hand and
mouth coordination. But like this woman, all of the MMs
were gamblers who used coincidence as part of the
process of their decision making. This woman fully
acknowledged all of the other key variables that go into
lasting love, but her decision to work at loving
revolved around one key "card" in the game of
Miracle makers often take such risks because they
trust that there is something inside them that seems to
guide them in the right direction. They also trust their
ability to judge the significance of the clues provided
by synchronicity and coincidence. They place their bets,
but they are sure that they are the ones who provide the
energy for the spin of the wheel.
Miracle Making as a Common Human Trait
Author Joseph Priestley whose collection of
coincidences I referred to earlier, writes,
"There is nothing supernormal and miraculous about
this larger temporal freedom of the dreaming self. It is
not a privilege enjoyed by a few very strange and
special people. It is a part of our common human
I have presented six of the basic characteristics of
miracle makers. Each characteristic represents a choice
you must make about your own laws of living before you
will be able to claim your birthright as a miracle
- You must choose between being creative, open, and
vulnerable to the unpredictable energy of spiritual
growth or accepting the more predictable local life of
the here and now (principle of nonlocality).
- You must choose between accepting transitional life
crises as psychic toughening exercises and a necessary
part of attending soul school here on earth or viewing
the transitions and tragedies of daily living as
punishment or as proof of the bumper sticker axiom that
reads "Life's a bitch and then you die"
(principle of complementarity).
- You must choose between pursuing your yearning for a
spiritual life that connects you with everyone and
everything and being teased by a sense that there is
more to life than your local existence or immersing
yourself in the more known quantities of local laws:
immediate pain, periodic pleasure, and easy and quick
closure when decisions and problems arise (uncertainty
- You must choose between a view of life that
emphasizes simplicity: freedom from acquiring things,
goods, and money, or an outlook on life that stresses
doing and getting more and more until the things of your
life become the focus of your living (observer
- You must choose to utilize as a source of learning
the energy released at times of personal decision and
development, challenges, changes, and transitions of
your life rather than adopt the view that things happen
randomly to us and have little meaning other than as
aggravations and threats to our survival and happiness
(principle of nonlocality).
- Most of all, if you are to make your own miracles,
you must choose to be a gambler. You must not be
foolhardy or reckless, but you must be vigilant for
those times when all of the cards are on the table and
it is time, as the saying goes, "to know when to
hold them, and know when to fold them." You might
at first choose to hold and play your cards by taking
small chances that follow your spiritual sense and
playing when others would decide to leave the game or
watch others play. You must choose to put yourself in
the miracle position, opening the way for the
coincidence clusters that fuel miracles (observer
Miracle makers have chosen to show a patience,
forgiveness, generosity, truthfulness, and equanimity
that I call "loving kindness." Every one of
the seventeen miracle-making patients whom I studied
showed loving kindness in all that they did. This seemed
to be the catalyst for the explosion of a meaningful
miracle in their life.
1. Sengtsan, Verses on the Faith
Mind, trans. E. R. Clarke (Sharon Springs, NY: Zen
2.Brendan O'Regan, "Healing, Remission, and Miracle
Cures," Institute of Noetic Sciences Special
Report (May 1987): 3-14.
3. Ibid., 11.
4.Ib Ibid., 11.
5.Aldous Huxley, The Perennial Philosophy (New
York: Harper & Row,
6.O'Regan, "Healing, Remission, and Miracle
7.Larry Dossey, Recovering the Soul: A Scientific and
Spiritual Search (New York: Bantam Books, 1990), 76.
8.O'Regan, "Healing, Remission, and Miracle
9.In his book Recovering the Soul, physician
Larry Dossey writes that the wish for the ultimate
source of energy has resulted in the crises at Chernobyl
and Three-Mile Island. The danger of wishing rather than
making meaningful miracles that apply to our daily lives
and take into consideration the principle of
complementarity extends to our culture. See Mary
Catherine Bateson, "The Revenge of the Good
Fairy," Whole Earth Review 55 (Summer 1987):
10.As I continue to review the seventeen case records of
the miracle makers whose words are included in this
book, I have noted a significant cluster of
characteristics that form the basis for a description of
a miracologist, or someone who makes miracles. A
detailed report focusing on the psychological toughness
and the sleight of mind characteristics is in
My students and colleagues have also noted that these
seventeen cases reveal that each miracle maker was also
a "sensuist" in that they all rejoiced in
touching, holding, smelling, tasting, hearing, and
seeing their world (sensualists, in contrast, are
concerned only with sexual feelings). One of the most
beautifully poetic and scientifically accurate books
regarding the senses is Diane Ackerman's A Natural
History of the Senses (New York: Random House,
11.O'Regan, "Healing, Remission, and Miracle
12. This, and all of the quotes from patients and
healthcare workers who have been a part of miracles, are
drawn from my seventeen case records mentioned earlier.
13. Richard Dienstbier, "Arousal and Physiological
Toughness: Implications for Mental and Physical
Health," Psychological Review 96, no.1
14. Quoted in Charles Wallis, The Treasure Chest (San
& Row, 1983), 118.
15. William Bucke, "From Self to Cosmic
Consciousness," in The Highest State of
Consciousness, ed. J. White (Garden City, NY:
16. Abraham Maslow, The Farther Reaches of Human
Nature (New York: Viking, 1971).
17.Roger Walsh, "The Psychologies of East and West:
Contrasting Views of the Human Condition and
Potential," in Beyond Health and Normality, ed.
Roger Walsh and Deane Shapiro (New York: Van Nostrand
Reinhold, 1983), 57.
18.Quoted in Robert Byrne, The Third—And Possibly
the Best—637 Best Things Anybody Ever Said (New
York: Antheneum, 1986), 43.
19.Bemard Siskin and Jerome Staller, What Are the
Chances? (New York: Crown Publishers, 1989), 61.
20. M. L. von Franz, On Divination and Synchronicity (Toronto:
Inner City Books, 1980).
21. Arnold Mindel, "Synchronicity, An Investigation
of the Unitary Background Patterning Synchronous
Phenomena," Dissertation Abstracts International
37, no. 2 (1976).
22. Werner Heisenberg, Physics and Beyond (New
York: Harper & Row, 1971).
23. Quoted in E David Peat, Synchronicity. The Bridge
Between Matter and Mind (New York: Bantam Books,
24. M. Scott Peck, The Road Less Traveled (New
York: Simon & Schuster, 1976), 16.
25. Quoted in Charles Wallis, The Treasure Chest (San
Francisco: Harper & Row, 1983), 187.
26.Buckminster Fuller, Critical Path (New York:
St. Martin's, 1981), 26.
27. Quoted in Charles Wallis, The Treasure Chest (San
Francisco: Harper & Row, 1983), 120.
28. Joseph Priestly, Man and Time (London: W. H.
Allen, 1978), 245.
Copyright © Paul Pearsall. All rights
reserved. This excerpt is taken from "Miracle
in Maui, Let Miracles Happen in Your Life." All
rights reserved. Inner Ocean Publishing, 2001.
Permission granted to reprint with author credit only.
Dr. Paul Pearsall is one of the most requested
speakers in the world, having given over 5000
international presentations around the world. He has
been invited back by every group he has addressed. He is
a clinical psychoneuroimmunologist, clinical professor
at the University of Hawaii, a member of the board of
the State of Hawai˙i Consortium for Integrative Health
Care, member of the Heart Transplantation Study Team at
the University of Arizona School of Medicine, and on the
Clinical Advisory Board of the Cultural Healing Program
at the Waimanalo Health Center on the island of Oahu.
He is president and CEO of Ho`ala Hou, a non-profit
research institute studying the application of ancient
Hawaiian principles to modern living, working, loving,
and health. He is a frequent consultant to national
television, including CNN, Dateline, and 20/20.
Dr. Pearsall was trained at the
University of Michigan and the Harvard and Albert Einstein
Schools of Medicine. He served as chief of the psychiatric
clinic at Sinai Hospital, director of behavioral medicine at
Beaumont Hospital, and professor of clinical psychiatry and
neurosciences at the Wayne State University School of
Medicine. He has authored over 300 professional journal
articles and 14 best-selling books, all of which have been
translated to several languages. His most recent books
include THE PLEASURE PRESCRIPTION, THE HEART’S CODE,
PARTNERS IN PLEASURE, and MIRACLE IN MAUI. His next book to
be published in Spring, 2002 is TOXIC SUCCESS: HOW TO STOP
STRIVING AND START THRIVING.
In his international presentations,
Dr. Pearsall is often joined by one of the most established
and revered halau in Hawaii to combine the latest
scientific research about healthy living with the ancient
Hawaiian lessons of aloha.
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