The Weight of Wishes

I put a wish on Yoko Ono's Wish Tree at the Hirshhorn yesterday, but I'm a little unsure about it.
You're supposed to walk up and, with a little pencil like the ones at miniature golf, write your wish on a designated piece of paper with a special little rope, then tie it to a tree (that strangely looks like what I imagine a Dogwood would if it were unripened fruit and not a tree).

Although I feel mixed about Yoko, as any I pick John over Paul Beatle fan, I liked the look of it, and the idea. And despite being out of paper tags, I indulged in her artistic expression and took the little pencil to the tree to find the empty back of an already -placed wish.

Others around me had led the way, but I some how felt guilty of tarnishing someone else's wish. As if somehow the weight of my wish on the back of theirs would prove to pull it down and offer it less of chance of coming true. Like the kid at the party who blows out more of the candles on the cake than the birthday girl in a daze of excitement, nostalgia and desire for another wish.

I found one I liked, now not recalling what moment from that stranger's stream of consciousness poured onto the little page, and cradled it in my hand gently, as if plucking an eyelash off their cheek upon which to wish if it landed in the right finger, and began to write on the blank back.

I wish for truth and love. I blushed and turned awkwardly.

As I walked away from the little tree with its little wishes on little paper, written with little pencils, I felt how very big those wishes are. My wishes. And there were two of them. Great. I added baggage to someone else's wish, and then to my own. My guilt crept slowly... as I pondered whether it would matter to if I put more than one, if my greed would deem one more fulfil able by the universe than the other. I know that is absurd, but the mind races when confronted with wishing.

Then I thought about it today. I'm already surrounded with love. Maybe I could use a little truth to guide me back to it. I may have laid heavy wishes upon heavy wishes...we shall see. Until then, I think I'll stick to light wishes on stars, if I can see any through the city haze.