” Small voice, what lies ahead?” I ask.

“I’m not a fortune teller,” small voice says. “I am a now-sayer.”

“A now-sayer?”

“Yes, I draw your attention to what’s here right now.”

“But I want to know what lies ahead,” I say.

“What lies ahead depends

on how aware you are of the present moment.”

“Can I discover what lies ahead

by being aware of the present moment?” I ask.

“You can become aware of the next step,”

small voice says.

“Only the next step?

That’s not what I had in mind,” I say.

“I know,” small voice says,

“The mind is never satisfied with ‘only’

and always wants more.”

“So we’re back to that,” I say.

Small voice nods.

I shake my head. “You’ve shifted 

from getting the last word to getting the last nod,” I say.

                                                                                                                                 JDG

“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