Wonder was sitting among his lily pad cluster, snatching the occasional mosquito, and surfing his breaking thought waves. After freshly graduating, cum laude, from the Advanced Frog Academy, with citations in oral-marksmanship, long hopping, and deep croaking, Wonder was both excited and disturbed about his future prospects? Meanwhile, Ponder was sunning on a nearby lily pad.
My wife and I have a pair of stuffed frogs. We’ve named them Ponder and Wonder. I like to fashion Ponder and Wonder narratives that capture and reflect patterns of my storying mind. When I let go into these naively rendered thought streams, I disclose myself, to myself, with gentleness, humor and humility.
[There they are, in the picture: Wonder on the left, and Ponder on the right. Ponder wants you to see that he’s slightly plumper than Wonder.]
Let’s listen as Wonder prepares to story their future.
Wonder, nursing a fledgling idea, turned to Ponder and said:
“Ponder, what should we do next? Perhaps I’ll be an Artist. What sort of Artist should I be? If I’m an Artist, of course, you’ll be my level headed friend, admirer and supporter, amazed, slightly jealous, and ever complimentary of my mystical creativity; you’ll graciously accept my irrational periods of enrapt emotions as I’m lost in my creative process.”
Wonder paused. Ponder furrowed his brow.
Wonder continued: “If not an artist, perhaps I’ll be an enterprising guppy rancher and you’ll be my faithful ranch hand. You’ll tend to our guppy herd. You’ll gather up the guppies and brand them. You’ll lead the guppies to green algae pastures, and you’ll tend to all their guppy-health needs. While you’re tending to the herd, I’ll strike wholesale deals with the Bass and Croppy Association, taking advantage of the economies-of-scale and mass marketing. It’ll be great.”
Wonder was proud. He’d constructed their ideal future. Then, he was struck with yet another idea: “If not a guppy rancher, maybe I’ll sell mosquito juice snacks, packaged in organic fish eggs, to frogs over in the Central Lily Pad District. You can run the factory and the kiosk. What do you think Ponder?”
Disconcerted, I wake up to discover where I’ve been. When caught in my storied world, I position my narratives in the center of the universe, vying, often unwittingly, to set others in orbit around them.
Ponder, turning unusual shades of turquoise, took a deep breath. Then he replied:
“Instead, perhaps I’ll become an uppity art critic. Not just any critic, I’ll become the critic’s critic. The AP will pick up on my cutting reviews of your artistic enterprises; my opinions will instantly spread around the world. Whadaya think? Wanna remove your ear now, or wait for my reviews?”
Ponder paused, then grinned, proud of his dramatic reference. He thought, “What fun!”
Ponder continued: “Perhaps I’ll be a low-down-snake-in-the-grass guppy rustler, or perhaps a commodities trader specializing in guppy belly futures, I’ll game and control the world guppy market. Better yet, maybe I’ll ignore all of your schemes; I’ll be a Broadway dancer, surpassing even Jiminy Cricket.” Grin, raised eyebrow: “He sounds like a tasty treat by the way.”
Finally, Ponder finished his playful tirade: “Wonder, have you noticed that your future stories limit how you see me?”
Wonder blushed in a brownish hue and said: “Yeah, your right. You can have my ear now.”