"What do you mean, he helped save your life?" I asked. The manager hesitated for a few moments, so I quickly softened my tone, hoping to put her at ease. "We really are amazed by much of what Andy has to say—and we'd love to hear your story."
Smiling, the manager began to speak. "I first started working here as a dishwasher in the kitchen, and at that time my life was in a total shambles. I was an alcoholic, barely coping with everyday living. I was seeing a therapist for my problem and I also belonged to an alcoholics' organization, but things still weren't looking too rosy. One day, roughly four and a half years ago, I was in such rough shape that I found myself crying and gasping for a breath of fresh air as I was scrubbing pots, so I went outside and sat on the lawn. I was feeling very sorry for myself, and wondered just how bad my life could get. I had lost all hope.
"Just when I was at my lowest state of mind, Andy came along. Seeing that I was crying, he came over to comfort me. We talked about all sorts of things and I remember we started to laugh at something. I forget what it was. Then, for no apparent reason, it was as if a huge dam burst in my head and I started to cry with tears of joy. Since that day I haven't had one single drink." It was obvious that Helen was affected by her own story; her voiced faltered and she fought back tears. "What's more, I have had no desire to drink."
Totally under control again, she said, "I always look forward to having little chats with Andy. Do you know he's been in many parts of the world? He has lots of very interesting stories about his adventures and travels."
Peter obviously found her story intriguing. "I wonder if you would mind answering a few questions?" he asked. "For example, what did you and Andy talk about?"
With a conspiratorial smile that included us all, she answered, "You've all heard Andy talk, haven't you? Half the time you have no idea what he's saying. I can't begin to remember what we talked about. All I know is that for the following fortnight after we spoke I never touched a drop of liquor. What was even more unusual, I didn't even realize during that entire two week period that I wasn't drinking. I just didn't think about it, at all! To me it was miraculous."
"Surely you must remember some of your conversation," Peter prodded.
"I do remember we talked about Thought quite a lot. But the thing that stands out most vividly in my memory was the feeling. I can't explain it. As I said, it was more of a wonderful feeling than an understanding of his words. Andy is quite spiritual. In fact you might say he is rather a free spirit," she quipped. "He most certainly has his own ways, but he's a likable person and has definitely been a good friend to me."
No one said anything for the longest time. Finally, Tom broke the silence by asking in a dubious tone, "Are you trying to tell us that you just suddenly stopped drinking? Just like that?" He snapped his fingers for emphasis.
"Yes," Helen replied. "As soon as I saw I was responsible for my own thoughts, and that it was my own thoughts that were creating my emotional state, that was it!"
The four of us stared at the young lady, then at each other, in total disbelief. We found it difficult to accept what we were hearing, this further evidence of the connection between thoughts and behavior. Then Janet inquired, "Surely it couldn't be that simple. What did you do to help you stop drinking?"
"Nothing. It just happened. It seemed miraculous. As I said, once I understood the power of my own thinking on a deeper level it just happened; there was nothing to do. I remember one thing Andy said. He told me, if I could, to learn to
'Do without doing and think without thinking.'"
"That's utter nonsense," Tom exploded.
"Sheer gobbledy-gook!" Peter half-heartedly agreed. "How can you do and think without doing and thinking?"
Nodding her head, the manager replied, "I asked Andy that very same question, and he told me it was something I had to figure out for myself. But he did say it had something to do with faith and a silent mind. He also said the secret we all seek lies in the state of 'no thought.'"
Janet said she had never in her life had so many goosebumps and shudders.
"Do you still go to your alcohol prevention meetings?" I asked.
Smiling, the manager said, "Oh, no! I really have no need for them any more."
I asked her about her therapist's reaction to what had happened.
"He wasn't too impressed," Helen admitted.
"How did he feel about your not attending any more meetings?"
"He felt I should continue with my treatment and my support group meetings. I was actually very surprised by his reaction. He became rather upset when I tried to explain that I had realized that it was my own thoughts that had been creating a good many of my problems. He just couldn't hear what I was saying. The interesting thing is, he still has the same problem I had four and a half years ago!"
As the four of us stood dumbfounded by the story the young lady had just told, she treated us to her beautiful smile and, in a cheery voice, wished us good day and left.
"That's quite the story," Janet declared.
A few minutes later, Andy arrived with a bag of lime in his old, battered wheelbarrow. After explaining to us that the soil around the fountain was sour, he said,
"Just like love and wisdom sweeten the soul, lime sweetens the soil."
We told Andy that we had been talking to the assistant manager and thought she was a very interesting lady.
"As a matter of fact," I said, "we were just remarking on how the entire staff at this hotel is the happiest and most helpful we have ever encountered."
Andy agreed. "Yes, they are a nice bunch of people. And isn't it wonderful that a woman as young as Helen can keep this place running like clockwork? She really is a great asset to the hotel."
Chapter 9
Forgiveness
As Andy lifted the bag of lime from the wheelbarrow and opened it, we sat down near the fountain to continue our conversation.
I asked Andy why he once made the statement that going back into the past to fix today's problems was like psychological suicide.
Wiping his hands on his pants legs, he said, "I realize I'm not educated like you doctors, but common sense tells me those past experiences no longer actually exist. Only in memory do they remain alive. Only in here," he said, pointing to his head.
Tom objected, "Surely our past traumatic experiences were real?"
"Yes, Tom they were a reality when they happened. But now they only exist in our minds, as memories; they are only pictures embedded in our consciousness. My advice, Tom, is:
Tread not into yesterday's sorrows,
For they are the pathways of despair."
"Try to be more charitable and open to change," Andy continued. "Allow yourself to live without yesterday's burdens on your mind and it will make today a more pleasant experience. I realize that, at times, past experiences may appear as realistic representations, but they are not real now. They are merely memories. Don't you see that holding on to such harmful memories and feelings—and constantly retrieving them from the archives of your mind so that you can revisit them—holds you a prisoner of your now-departed past?
Let the past be dead and let the dead rest in peace."
There was a prolonged silence after these words. Then Tom, obviously looking for an argument, suddenly turned to Andy and said, "You're asking people to go into denial."