“Small voice, I’ve been thinking

about wishing and lying. Lying’s worse, right?”

“Well,” small voice says, “They’re both ways

of turning away from the truth of what is.”

“Yeah,” I say, “but wishing can be

a starting point for making things better.”

“Hmm,” small voice says. “And lying?”

“Unless it’s to save someone’s life or something,

lying gets things off to a bad start, ” I say.

“So how things start affects how they end?” small voice asks.

“Yes,” I say. 

Small voice nods.

“Are you just trying not to have the last word?” I ask.

Small voice nods.

“Well,” I say, “You’re making progress too.”

                                                                                                                       JDG

“Sometimes I wish we’d never met,”  I say,

 wincing as I heard myself say “I wish”.

“I saw you wince,” small voice says. “As I said,

you’re making progress.”

“I’m sick of making progress,” I say. “I liked it better

when I didn’t hang onto my every word.”

“Hmm,” small voice says.

“That’s what you always say,” I mutter. “You’re 

making me self-conscious.”

“Isn’t that the idea?” small voice says.

“What?” I say.

“To become the conscious self 

you were born to be,” small voice says.

I sigh. “I liked it better when I was born to be wild,” 

“I know,” small voice says. “That’s why I’m here.”

“You always have to have the last word,” I say.

Small voice grins but says nothing.

 The silence lengthens.

Small voice smiles.

I wince once more.

                                                                                                           JDG

“Is wishing ever a good thing?” I ask.

“Sure,” the small voice says.

“When?” I ask.

“When you wish someone well,

for example,” small voice replies.

“Oh,” I say. “Well, when I stood in line

behind that woman with her cart piled high

as she casually chatted with the slowest moving

clerk in the known universe,

I did not wish her well, but

I did wish her well on her way.

Does that count?”

“Sadly, no,” the small voice says, “but

you are making progress.”

“I am?”

” Yep,” the small voice says. “You noticed

your response to the situation

and you didn’t wish you were different.”

“True,” I say, “but I did wish

that woman and the clerk were different and I did wish

I’d chosen a different line, and…”

“Yes,” the small voice interrupts.

“Simple awareness is not simple, is it?” I say.

“Ah,” small voice says,

“You’re beginning to sound like me.” 

                                                                                                                                                           JDG

“Go ahead. Get it.” small voice says.

“Huh?”

“Get it,” small voice repeats.

“I thought you were here to guide me 

to enlightenment, not to suggest purchases, ” I say.

“It’s perfect for you,” small voice says,

pointing to the Mother’s Day card.

“Ask your son to stop by and sign it.”

“Mothers don’t buy their own Mother’s Day cards

and get their children to sign them.” I say.

“It’s perfect,” small voice says pointing to the card

of a woman getting a traffic ticket 

and saying to the bored looking cop,

“Oh, kiss my !@#!.”

“Look inside,” small voice says.

Unsure whether I’m to look inside myself

or inside the card, I pick the card.

It says,” Mom, you’ve always had a way with words.”

“Small voice, I’m going to have to report you

to your superior, ” I say.

Small voice grins.

                                                                                                                      JDG

“I think I’m beginning to see something,” I say.

“Hmm,” the small voice says.

“I spend a lot of time wishing and I wish I didn’t.”

The small voice smiles as I catch myself.

“When you’re not wishing, what’s left?” the small voice asks.

“Just me and the world.”

“Just?” the small voice says.

I get quiet. “And… ” I struggle for words. “And 

somehow things slow down and…”

“And?” the small voice says.

I take a deep breath. “And yet I still seem to have plenty of time.”

“Ah,” says the small voice, “you’re beginning to see.”

                                                                                                                                                      JDG

“This not wishing is going to be the undoing of me,” I say.

That’s the idea,” says the small voice.

“Huh?’

“Undoing is the idea, remember?”

“But I thought the idea was to set aside wishing.

You keep upping the ante.”

“Pardon the pun,

but you’re  way past due for an undo.” 

“Past due?” I ask.

“Hon,” the small voice says, “You’re seventy-two.

Holding on is what you always do.”

“I’m scared if I let go, I’ll lose my grip on reality,” 

“You have to lose your grip 

to find reality,” the small voice says.

“Riddles upon riddles.

They are going to be the undoing of me.”

“Yes,”the small voice says, smiling.

                                                                                                                                JDG

“Not wishing is hard,” I say.

“True.” says the small voice.

“Well, couldn’t I just start somewhere else?” I ask.

“That’s wishing in disguise,” smiles the small voice.

“You don’t have to be so darn cheerful about it,” I say.

“Wishing in disguise again. It’s surprising,

isn’t it, to discover the many faces wishing has.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I mutter, 

“and don’t say that’s wishing in disguise.”

“Well, maybe just a semi-disguise,” the small voice says.

“Is anything other than an unqualified ‘yes’ 

a form of wishing?” I ask.

“Good question,”says the small voice. “Bears pondering.”

“This is going to take longer than I thought,” I say.

“Yes,” says the small voice. “That’s why wishing is a good place to start.”

“What if all the undoing I do begins and ends right here?”

“Then you would have made an excellent beginning

and an excellent ending,” the small voice says.

“You talk in riddles,” I say, “but you’ve made me curious.”

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“I don’t know where to begin,”

I say, “There’s so much.”

“Let’s begin slow,” the small voice says.

“Every day leave one small thing behind.

What can you set aside today?”

“I’ll have to think,” I say.

“Only big things like hurry and worry come to mind.

I wish I’d started sooner.”

“Maybe you could begin there,” the small voice suggests.

“Where?”

“With the wishing for what isn’t or wasn’t,” says the small voice.

“That doesn’t seem small.”

” True, but it’s what’s here now and it’s a start.”

“All right, I’ll start with what’s here now,” I say, 

wishing I had come up with something else –

like broccoli or…

whoops, let me set that wish aside and begin.

                                                                                                                                                               JDG

“It’s time,” the small voice whispers.

“You’ve put it off long enough.”

“What?” I ask.

“You know full well, ” the small voice says.

“You must begin to know empty. 

Now is the ‘un’ time of your life

when the doing involves undoing,

when you unpack and one by one

you let things go.”

“But I’m not ready,” I say.

“We’re never ready,” the small voice says,

“Still, let’s begin. I will help you.”

                                                                                                           JDG