Tom huffily asserted that he was taught that there was no such thing as original thought—that anything being taught today was, of necessity, built on yesterday's knowledge. "Or, as someone once said to me," he expounded, "Today's knowledge is a descendent of yesterday's."
"At school I was taught much the same as Tom," Peter said. "I was told that there was no such thing as original thought. I'd sure like to ask your gardener friend a few more questions about his views on this."
"Now's your chance," I said, glancing out the window. "There he is, working on the lawn."
After finishing our lunch, we made our way to where Andy was working. Before long, Tom and Peter were bombarding him with questions while Janet looked on in fascination. Listening to my colleagues debate original thought with the gardener, I felt they would soon overwhelm poor Andy with their multitude of questions— and I wondered how he could possibly answer them all.
Andy bowed his head as if he were in deep contemplation, took a handkerchief out of his back pocket, blew his nose, and then, with a waggish smile, addressed Tom and Peter.
"All I can tell you gentlemen is the way I see life. The way it appears to me, original thought lies deep within the soul of all human beings and is revealed by a true realization—or if you wish, an insight beyond the intellect."
Without giving himself time to absorb Andy's answer, Peter immediately asked the gardener why he had separated the intellect and wisdom.
Suddenly looking quite stern, the gardener suggested that Peter should learn to listen to what he was told before asking more questions.
"I don't know how you psychologists see things," Andy continued, "but the way I see it, there are two types of knowledge. One type is our intellectual knowledge, which is connected to our learned and memorized understanding and experience of life. The second knowledge I speak of is spiritual in nature and lies deep within the soul of all human beings."
Now I simply had to join the conversation. "Are you trying to tell us that you believe there's a spiritual knowledge that is present in the soul of all human beings—before any human experience?" I asked.
Andy paused to reflect before replying, "Yes. Sometimes people call this spiritual knowledge wisdom. The way I see it, your Mrs. Taylor found some purer thoughts from deep within her own consciousness."
With a smile, the gardener turned, looked straight at Tom and said, "I believe Mrs. Taylor found some original thought. And what she found was something she could never explain, because what she found was beyond the word."
Andy's voice softened, "As I told you before, Eric, the belief that it takes time to find wisdom is one of the greatest fallacies on earth. Wisdom is not learned—it is unfolded from within one's own consciousness.
"When such knowledge appears to a person, it is revealed in a form that some may call an insight. Others may call it a revelation. No matter what you call it, for a fleeting moment in time, your Mrs. Taylor stopped her chattering personal mind long enough to find some of her own inner wisdom."
"That's a very interesting way of explaining Mrs. Taylor's recovery," I said. "I had never even considered the idea that Mrs. Taylor found her own wisdom. I always thought it must have been related to something I had said to her, some words from my understanding of her situation. Surely I get some praise for Mrs. Taylor's recovery?"
Smiling at my plaintive tone, Andy said, "Of course you do. You should be proud of your success. After all, Eric, you are the one who helped her find her peace of mind."
Tom responded sarcastically, "So all Eric has to do is repeat the same magic words to his next client and he'll get the same miraculous results?"
With a very serious look on his face the old gardener replied, "Tom, what you have to realize is this: It is not the words but what is beyond the words that is important. It has been my experience in life that no matter how strong or how clever a teacher you may be, if someone is unwilling to change and refuses to listen, there is nothing you or anyone else can do to help improve his or her condition. You know the old saying, 'You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink.'"
"So, what about those who are so far gone we therapists can't reach them?" asked Janet.
"I suggest you do what you normally do," Andy replied. "Give them lots of love and care but be sure you don't assume too readily that anyone is beyond help."
I asked Andy to explain what he had said to Tom in another way. As he began his explanation, I initially thought he hadn't heard my question properly when he said, "Eric, you told me that when you were in India you spent a considerable amount of time meditating, yet you were not successful in finding the elusive wisdom you sought."
"No, I wasn't successful," I admitted, "and that's what I can't understand. Why would people who were not even meditating find wisdom?"
Smiling, Andy replied, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I have the suspicion that perhaps you are a little confused about the difference between the act of meditating and the state of meditation. Just because you're not in the accepted physical posture or chanting a mantra doesn't mean a thing. I have friends who find that tranquil state of meditation when they fish. Others find peace of mind while taking a walk, working in the garden or playing golf. For many others, it is a structured ritual requiring great dedication. There are a great many different ways to reach such a state."
Janet mused, "It's strange you should explain meditation that way. When I was a young girl, my favorite place to find serenity was sitting on a rocking chair under the old weeping willow in our back yard. As a teenager, I would spend countless hours contemplating anything and everything, and many times I found the peaceful state of mind you just spoke of. But, I never considered that I was meditating."
As Janet finished speaking, Andy stood up and thanked us for an interesting conversation. Then he excused himself, saying he had work to do and that he was a little bit behind with his chores.
Chapter 7
Freedom from the Past
After the gardener left, the four of us looked at each other in total disbelief and burst into peals of laughter.
"You were right," Peter said. "The old guy is rather enigmatic, to say the least. But like Tom, I can't help but think that maybe he just has the gift of the blarney. I seriously doubt that many of his assumptions will hold water. Personally, I think he's just a nice old man who loves to talk."
"I can't imagine how he came up with all his unusual notions," Janet added. "I have to admit, he certainly is a unique character. You definitely don't meet someone like him every day—at least I don't! But whether or not there's any validity to what he is saying is another matter. And yet, I instinctively feel that there is truth in some of what he says. I'd sure like to talk with him again, if for no other reason than sheer curiosity."
That evening at supper, the entire restaurant was abuzz with people discussing the presentations of the day's speakers. Our table was no different, except that we talked about the gardener.
We discussed our feelings and our thoughts about Andy's unusual theories on life. Janet and I agreed that his philosophical views were powerful and had the ring of truth to them. Tom and Peter, on the other hand, were definitely skeptical of everything the gardener had said. Tom had a particularly hard time giving any credibility to the gardener's views.