Sometimes, my wishes are petty (pause here: PETTY, not pretty, as autocorrect would have preferred. Petty as in small and mean) and I’m glad I don’t have a genie hanging on my every word only to realize I’ve just squandered my opportunity to summon in world peace, so I can be bikini-buff AND eat a personal endless supply of ice-cream.
I wish the drone of heavy machinery I can hear from my home office would end. I wish it would dump snow. I wish it would occur to asymptomatic COVID-carrying jetsetters that they should stay home. See? I’m not manifesting higher vibrations here.
That’s why I love the sign outside Signal Hill Elementary school right now. Main drag. There for all to see. In three languages.
Amhas Kws Wa7su.
What a great re-set… even as other less enlightened wishes threaten to entangle me, I can come back to this. AND I wish you well. I’m thinking about tacking this on to all my thoughts this week, like a kid’s wordgame where every sentence has to end in potato-balls. And I wish you well.
As if, no matter what pettiness might leak out of me, I can always come back to this.
I wish you weren’t standing so close to me. And I wish you well. I wish you were wearing a mask. And I wish you well. I wish you didn’t have your music up so loud. And I wish you well. I wish this line-up wasn’t so long. And I wish you well.
And surely it can only serve to amplify my most heartfelt desires and affections, right?
I hope you have a good day at school today. Beloved, I wish you well. I hope your manuscript does get picked up by a huge publisher. Friend, I wish you well. I hope you can find it through another day, despite your grief. Dear one, I wish you well. I hope you find plenty of seeds this morning. Birdies, I wish you well.
The kicker, of course, might be to turn such good wishes back on oneself – you know, a little lovingkindness ninja work. Another spoon full of sugar for the tea. Self, I wish you well.
I shall report back on my progress. If you try it, let me know how it goes.