Expecting he’d be lying on the sofa, James was just about to stretch out when Harmony gestured toward the recliner. “Clients are usually most comfortable in the recliner.”
As soon as James sat down, he began to relax. He pushed against the chair back and the footrest gently popped up. Harmony reached into a nearby cabinet and removed a cotton throw. She handed it to James. “I keep it a little chilly in here. If you’re under a blanket, it helps your body believe that it’s rest time.”
The blanket smelled of lavender and laundry detergent. James spread it over his legs and wriggled farther into the chair’s yielding cushion. Harmony switched on her CD player and the sounds of instruments and wind chimes piped through the speakers. It wasn’t exactly music, as there wasn’t a clear melody, but the noises were very tranquil. James recognized the sounds of flutes, running water, and occasionally, the chirping of birds and the gentle clanging of a small metal gong. The overall effect was the feeling of being at repose in some isolated Japanese garden.
“Let’s begin by taking several deep breaths.” Harmony said. “Breathe in through the nose and out the mouth. One. That’s good. Two. Annnnd, three.” She smiled as though James had accomplished a great feat. “Well done. Now, if you feel comfortable, go ahead and close your eyes.”
James was delighted to oblige. Suddenly, the idea of spending an hour in the recliner, listening to the soothing music and Harmony’s melodious voice had become very attractive.
“I’d like you to allow your body to become very heavy,” Harmony directed quietly. “Your muscles are going to relax. Your body doesn’t have to work any more. Imagine instead that you’re on a lounge chair by a pool or perhaps by the ocean. There is a gentle breeze blowing across your face and you feel very warm and very relaxed.”
Snuggled in his blanket, James did feel warm. He gave his shoulders leave to sink farther into the chair cushion.
“Now imagine a current of warm air flowing down your body starting with the top of your head. As it moves down your face, to your neck and your shoulders, you can feel any tension, any stresses or worries that you might have walked in with today just melt away.”
For a moment, his concerns about Eliot, finding a replacement for Mrs. Waxman, and Murphy’s return flitted through his mind, but he turned away from those thoughts and centered his attention on the vision of a sparkling ocean lined by a pristine white beach and a few stands of palm trees.
“Now the warm, gentle flow of air moves down your arms and down each and every finger. It flows across your chest, over your stomach, over your lower back and your hips, and down each leg. As it moves you feel more and more relaxed, while your mind stays focused on the sound of my voice.” She inhaled deeply. “And now, as that air moves over your calves and your feet, let any impurities or anxieties flow out with it through your toes. Let your body rest. It feels very heavy in the chair, but your mind is very clear; it is actually at a heightened state of awareness.”
It was true. James felt as though he had never possessed such mental focus before. He was certain that, if asked, he could suddenly solve complex mathematical algorithms or balance the library budget without a calculator. He believed he could recite every Shakespearean soliloquy he had made his students memorize when he’d been a college professor.
“Take your mind to that pool you’ve been sitting beside,” Harmony continued in her lulling voice. “There’s a set of steps leading down to the pool. The water is very warm and inviting and there’s a floating lounge chair waiting for you. Try to picture this peaceful place in your mind. Nod if you can see it.”
James nodded.
“Okay, now you’re going to walk down those steps slowly, one at a time, as I count backward from ten. With every step, your body is going to become more and more relaxed. Ten … nine … eight … seven … six … five … four … three … two … one. You can rest on that float now, James.”
He could practically hear the water lapping at the side of the pool. The sun bathed him with its gentle, nourishing rays and the faintest of breezes cooled his heated skin. It was paradise.
“James.” Harmony’s voice drifted to him across the pool. “I want you to ask your mind to give up this craving for sugar. I want you to pretend that your mind looks like the inside of a control center. I want you to climb up a ladder into the middle of that control center.”
Reluctantly, James switched his visual away from the pool and focused on a wooden ladder.
“You’re going to climb up into a room. It’s filled with lots and lots of lights. There are lights of every color and there are switches all around you. Walk around your brain’s control center and observe it carefully.”
Harmony was right. There were buttons and levers and switches. Rows of bare bulbs dangled from the ceiling and the whir of machinery filled the air. Despite the sense of endless industry, the room was neat and tidy.
“Look at the switch closest to you,” Harmony commanded firmly. “Put both hands on the switch. This is the machine that sends your brain a message that you want to eat sugar. You’re going to turn it off, James. And as you do so, tell your brain that you don’t want to crave sugar anymore. You’re turning that craving off for good right now. Go ahead and do that, James.”
Reaching both hands forward, James gripped the metal level and pushed it downward with all his might. He whispered the orders Harmony had given him to his brain and felt a surge of accomplishment rush through him as he silently and sincerely urged his mind to believe what it was being told.
Next, Harmony directed him to return to the pool. She repeated over and over that he no longer needed sugar, that he was free of his addiction to the substance, and that he’d been released from his craving. Eventually, she led him back up the stairs from the enticing water and asked him to open his eyes.
“That was amazing!” he croaked. “I saw everything as if I actually experienced it! The pool, the float, the control center. But the session was so brief. Are you sure it can work that rapidly?”
Harmony laughed lightly. “Most people lose all sense of time when they’re in a highly relaxed state. How long do you think we’ve been in here?”
James eased himself upward and shrugged. “Twenty minutes?”
“Try fifty minutes,” she answered with a smile.
“Wow,” he said breathlessly. “So what happens next?”
“You must listen to your CD every night.” She held his gaze. “The reinforcement is very important, James. Please don’t skip any nights, especially since we’ve only had one session together. When I see you next Monday we’ll see how things are coming along.”
James collected his CD from Skye and lazily walked to his Bronco. At home, he ate a healthy meal of roasted chicken breast, green beans, and brown rice. When he opened up the freezer to get some ice cubes for his diet Dr. Pepper, he glanced at the pint of Caramel Crunch ice cream and waited for the desire to compel him to reach for the carton.
“I really don’t feel like anything sweet,” he stated in astonishment. He then dug out a package of Eliot’s snack-sized Oreos, a bag of chocolate-chip morsels, a tin of candied pecans, and a Charleston Chew that he kept hidden in the freezer for an emergency. He examined each of the goodies for several moments, but nothing happened. He didn’t want to eat any of them.
Staring at the food, James shook his head in disbelief and, for the second time that evening, breathed out an amazed, “Wow.”
The rest of the workweek passed quickly for James. Between the high school students researching topics for their senior projects and the flood of incoming applications for the part-time librarian position, time buzzed by quickly.
On Thursday, just as James was about to duck into his office to review the paperwork on a fresh batch of candidates, a middle-aged woman with a very long ponytail of ash-blond hair turning to gray walked up to the circulation desk. She had several rolled posters tucked under her right arm.
“I was wondering if you could hang this
in the lobby right away?” she inquired with a friendly but determined air. “The Wellness Village is sponsoring a Fresh Food Festival this weekend. I know it’s late to be promoting the event, but we don’t have much of an advertising budget and are hoping to attract people through word-of-mouth.”
James reached for the poster. “May I?”
The woman unfurled one for him and laid it gently on the counter. The central graphic showed a picnic basket overflowing with fruits, vegetables, and a loaf of bread. Each corner was embellished with drawings of a farmer’s life. One showed him plowing his field, another featured him selling wares at an outdoor market, the third was a close-up of him handing a little boy a plump peach, and the final picture depicted the farmer sitting down to eat a meal with his family. James thought that the farmer bore a close resemblance to Santa Claus. The red suit had been replaced by denim overalls and a straw hat, but the man had the same kind face and laughing eyes. In addition to the date, time, and location of the event, a stream of text ran around the perimeter of the poster. It read, Save Our Farms! Buy Fresh! Buy Local!
James couldn’t agree more. Having lived in the Shenandoah Valley most of his life, he rubbed shoulders with members of the agricultural community every day. He believed there were few individuals who worked harder or with more dedication than the farmers he had come to know in his years as head librarian.
“I’d be glad to hang this for you. In fact, if you have any extras I can assure you they’ll be prominently displayed in the windows of Quincy’s Whimsies and The Yuppie Puppy. Both of those proprietors support the farming community. As do I.” James couldn’t help but add.
“Thank you!” The woman beamed at him. “My name’s Roslyn Rhodes, by the way. I’m a herbal healer and have an office in the Wellness Village.” She handed him a business card. Under her name were the words, Holistic Medicine and the slogan, Let Nature Heal You. Beneath those lines her office phone numbers, address, and hours were listed. James noticed that Roslyn’s Health House was right down the path from Harmony’s.
For some reason, James wanted to show just how open-minded he was, so he informed Roslyn that he’d received a hypnotherapy treatment on Monday from her neighbor at A Better State of Mind.
“Good for you!” Roslyn’s praise was genuine. “I’ve heard a great deal of positive feedback about Harmony’s sessions. She’s a lovely person and has been an incredible help putting this festival together.” She gave a self-effacing laugh. “We flaky types aren’t always in top form when it comes to organization. Ask me about any herb on the face of this green earth and I can tell you all about its properties, but ask me where my checkbook is and I’ll be at a total loss!”
James walked Roslyn out to the lobby and the two of them exchanged small talk while he hung the poster. “It says here that we can eat lunch at the festival. My son has recently become a vegetarian. Will there be something else for him to eat besides farm stand fruits and vegetables?”
Roslyn nodded in excitement. “Oh, yes! There will be dozens of wonderful dishes to choose from. Trust me, I’ve been a vegan for fifteen years and I’m already daydreaming about all the tasty things I’ll be sampling on Saturday. Your whole family is in for a treat. Come hungry, my friend.”
After Roslyn left, the Fitzgerald twins wandered into the lobby to examine the poster. The two brothers consumed more food than James deemed humanly possible for individuals with such tall, lanky frames and the slightest reference to anything edible caused a glimmer to appear in their hazel eyes.
“Food festival! Sweet!” Francis declared and tried to peer around Scott’s shoulder. “What kind? Greek? Italian? Lebanese? Barbeque?”
“Locally grown,” Scott answered. “You know what that means?”
The brothers exchanged hungry grins and in perfect unison shouted, “Pie!”
Francis elbowed his brother away from the bulletin board and gazed at the poster with a dreamy expression. “Apple Brown Betty, peach crisp, pear crumble.”
“Blueberry cream cheese, lemon meringue, chocolate peanut butter pie!” Scott finished the list and then turned to James. “Oops. Sorry, Professor. We didn’t mean to torture you.”
James gave a light-hearted shrug. “Believe it or not, I’m not drooling onto my tie. Three nights of listening to my hypnotherapy CD has really helped stop those sugar cravings.”
“That’s good, Professor,” Francis said. “Because that’s the tie we gave you for Boss’ Day last year and it’s dry clean only.”
Looking down, James picked up the end of his tie and gave it a shake. “I know. It’s my all-time favorite. I became a librarian hoping that one day I could wear a garment that says, ‘Don’t Make Me Shush You!’ and now I can.”
Scott poked his brother in the side. “I wanted to get you the Librarian Drinking League tie, but Francis said Mrs. Waxman wouldn’t approve.”
“Probably not,” James agreed with a laugh and then sighed. “I’d better get back in there and look over those applications. So far, no one’s worthy of even licking Mrs. Waxman’s boots, let alone filling them.”
As James reviewed applications from college students in search of an easy summer job, retirees who wanted a permanent part-time position but didn’t want to work the hours the position required, and a young mother who wanted the job but only if she could bring her three-month-old infant along, he began to despair.
Finally, toward the bottom of the stack, James came across a very promising application. A graduate student from U.V.A. was looking for evening and weekend hours as he had classes every weekday morning. The young man was working toward a Master’s in English Literature and was not only well read, but also mentioned that he was interested in pursuing a career in public service. Feeling optimistic, James was just reaching for the phone to schedule an interview when his gaze fell on the application line reading, Wage Sought.
The young man had written that he needed to make a minimum of twenty-five dollars an hour to cover his cost of living.
Spluttering, James slammed the phone back into the cradle. “Where are you living? In a mansion? With a butler and a personal chef? The nerve!”
He was just warming up to his indignation when the phone rang. It was Jane calling to assure him that Eliot’s pediatrician said that their son could receive all the nutrition he needed from a balanced vegetarian diet.
“As long as he’s eating plenty of protein, taking his vitamins, and not subsisting on potato chips and fruit roll-ups, he’ll be fine.” James heard a hesitation in her voice. “The doctor also seemed to think this was merely a phase. Apparently, it’s quite common for kids to experience feelings of guilt about eating animals at some point in their childhood.”
“So what do we do?” James asked. “Encourage him or try to convince him that he doesn’t need to feel guilty?”
“I think we should support his decision, but we need to sit down with him this weekend and explain animal husbandry a bit. I want him to realize that raising livestock or eating meat does not make a person bad.”
Jane’s suggestion caused an idea to form in James’ mind. “Why don’t we let him talk to a farmer? There’s a food festival in town this weekend and a bunch of local food producers have been invited to sell their products to the public. After we give Eliot his Livestock 101 talk, we can bring him to the fair.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jane replied. “But James, we have to be honest with him. You and I both know that animals raised for food consumption don’t always have decent lives or humane deaths. I know he’s only four, but I don’t want to deceive him.”
James didn’t like the direction in which the conversation was headed. “We’re not going to tell him boldfaced lies, but I’m not going to go into detail about slaughterhouse practices either. I think we should focus on the message he got from this Fay Sunray person. I’ll search around on the Internet and see if someone posted a recording of her Nashville performance. She started this whole thing, so I want to know exactly what she said
that upset Eliot so much.”
“I wish my parents could remember. Of all the times for me to have dashed off to the restroom!” Jane lamented. “I feel like I’ve lost my mind since he made his announcement during dinner. I wouldn’t be so worried if my friends at work hadn’t freaked me out by recommending family therapy and links to a dozen parenting websites.” She grew quiet for a moment. “I’ve never second-guessed my maternal instincts until now. I don’t like feeling so uncertain, James. Like I’m going to emotionally scar this kid if I don’t handle this situation perfectly.”
Though James knew precisely how Jane felt, he also suspected they were both overreacting. “First of all, we won’t be perfect parents and that’s fine. Eliot doesn’t need perfection. He needs the love and guidance you’ve been giving him since birth. Secondly, I’ve been perusing quite a few parenting books in my spare time. If these people had their way, the three of us would be in therapy until Eliot has a family of his own! Don’t buy into this insanity. Stick to your instincts—you, we will figure out what’s best for our son.”
“There’s something else you should know,” Jane added reluctantly. “Eliot’s been having nightmares about dead animals. Someone played a really cruel practical joke on us before we left for Nashville and it’s affected him more than I’d realized.”
James brushed aside the pile of job applications and sat forward in his chair. “What kind of joke?”
Clearly, Jane was reluctant to speak of it, but after some coaxing she gave in. “Someone put a dead robin in our mailbox. Probably a disgruntled student. You remember what it was like during midterm exams. Between all the overnight cram sessions and cans of Red Bull, the kids can lose their heads. Didn’t a freshman student vandalize your car with shaving cream?”
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