The Game of God: The Ultimate Solitaire!

By Peter Buxton

The world is not as it appears. The universe and all of life is a fantasy being played out and experienced by God—with God being the only player. This is the ultimate game of solitaire! The Game of God explores this amazing game that God develops and plays as though illusion is reality, as though man and all other forms of life have their own separate lives and minds. They live in bodies, in the world; they are born, grow old, and die. Everything in the universe is held in shape by mind-patterns, and within the game God is constantly assessing play as it develops and as though it is real and not an illusion or dream. The latter part of The Game of God illustrates a fundamentally different way of playing the game of life by changing your view of yourself and others within the game. It offers explanations of how to play this fantasy game effectively, how to develop fully the character you find yourself playing at the moment, and how to express your abundance. For thousands of years man has pondered on his identity, his relationship to God, and the meaning and purpose of life, and he is still pondering. The Game of God shows how the answer to these profound questions lies within each of us.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Oct 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781398447868

Peter Buxton

Peter Buxton grew up in England and lived both in London and on the South Coast. In 1983, he migrated to Australia and lived in Sydney and Tasmania, before he and his wife began life as “grey nomads” and were free to travel extensively throughout Australia for the next six wonderful years.

Book preview

Dedication

To Sally, who rearranged, deciphered my strange spelling,

and made readable my many scraps of paper.

Copyright Information ©

Peter Buxton 2022

The right of Peter Buxton to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

The story, experiences, and words are the author’s alone.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398447851 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398447868 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2022

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Preface

When I first published this book in 1995, it didn’t have a preface but now I feel a preface would help explain how it came about.

Let’s start at the very beginning. I was born in 1934 in London upstairs in the front bedroom. My mother, who had already produced four daughters, was 46 years old and was about to give birth to a boy (me!). My mother did not know that I had been kicking and turning too vigorously and had wound the umbilical cord around my neck, which caused me to present breech. A local woman who acted as a midwife was called in, but she couldn’t turn me around as I was securely tied up the wrong way, and it was thought that mother and baby would die.

However, with no help from me, my mother eventually expelled me into the world, bum first. Now, this was not really my fault, but in exiting, I tore away the placenta so that it was now over my head. This trauma caused me to suffer brain damage from lack of oxygen, and it didn’t do my poor mother a lot of good either! One of my sisters later told me it was lucky to be born with a cowl over your head because it meant that if you became a sailor you would never be drowned at sea. Thank goodness we don’t spread these old wives’ tales now, but she was right—it did turn out to be lucky!

Those of you who are thinking ‘and what’s that got to do with anything?’ well, there is a point because if it hadn’t happened then you would not be reading this book! The reason my breech birth was lucky was because the brain damage meant that I became what was called in those days word and number blind (dyslexia to you), and this meant that nobody could indoctrinate me with what they call ‘education’ and that was the lucky thing!

In 1939, at the age of five, and because of the outbreak of war, I was given a gas mask and a label tied to my collar and sent off to the country out of harm’s way.

All the children were lined up in the village hall and one by one they were picked by the families who would care for them until the war was over. I was the last one left when a woman who acted as housekeeper to two retired bank managers arrived late in the hope that all the children had found homes. She was a cruel and bitter woman who didn’t like children and, for me, worms, fleas, malnutrition, etc. were the result, and for the next five years I was taught I was of no value at all.

I couldn’t make head nor tail of this confusing world and I did not understand anything at school. All the other children seemed to think that the white chalk marks on the blackboard were important, whereas I just wanted to hide in a field and try not to get into trouble.

I only saw my parents once for a few hours during those five years as there was no petrol for a bus to travel the 70 miles from London, except by a special licence. When I was 10 years old my father was able to visit once more, and on seeing the state of me he decided that all the bombs and rockets were no worse than leaving me there on my own, so he put me on the bus for home. I hasten to say that most children were well cared for by the families they stayed with and often visited them after the war. What a relief to be back with my own family!

When I was 15 the school board man asked what job did I want and I said I didn’t know. He said that as I was good at art and nothing else I would be sent to a commercial art studio. Next, at 18 years old, came National Conscription, and they asked if I wanted to join the army, air force or navy. Again I said I didn’t know, so they said I was in the army and I became part of the occupation force in Germany for the next two years.

Another 5 years were starting and at the age of 20, I met that ‘special girl’, Sally, and I also managed to read my very first book. Before that, I read only speech bubbles in comics. Reading opened a fantastic new world to me—novels, botany, science etc.—so my neurons were growing at a great rate and I was hungrily sucking up information. But wait, intuition was nagging at me too, telling me that some of the information was wrong. In the past, I had found that intuition had always got me out of trouble and was the one thing I could always rely on, and it had never let me down.

So, systematically, every night just before going to sleep when I had read things that didn’t seem right I would ask my inner Self for the true answers, fully expecting an answer in the morning. Usually, the answer woke me about 3 a.m., and I would write it down on a tear-off pad, which I kept in the spare room, and then go back to sleep. This went on for about a year, and eventually, Sally, my special girl, told me to clear up the room as the floor was just about covered with sheets of torn off note pad.

Now, by collecting up the pages in different groups, a series of ideas had assembled themselves and I told Sally I felt compelled from within to publish this as a book and I asked her for help as it was quite beyond me. My spelling was atrocious and my sentences were back to front and were a hopeless jumble.

With trepidation, she agreed and spent many hours deciphering and interpreting what was meant until she had reshaped it into something readable by someone else. We sent copies of the book to publishers we thought would be interested in England, Australia and the USA and got knocked back every time,