You have to take the bus. There are no express taxis or cars that will pick up the random hitchhiker. Unlike the bus that you REALLY don’t want to take, you can’t shake your head, wave your hand at the driver and have them pass you by. There are certain buses that have your number on them. You have to get on them. And you have to take them to their intended destination. Well, you don’t have to. You can try turning tail and running a quarter mile, either direction, to the next bus stop. It won’t matter though. The only buses that will show up there are the ones with your number on them. You can try getting on and hopping off before it arrives at its destination. That doesn’t work either. If you really want to be and experience something different than the street you are on now, you have to get on that bus again when it stops for you again. And it will. Again and again, until you ride that sucker all the way to its end destination.
A bus that has my number keeps showing up and I, sure enough, keep waving it on by. It, with relatively no fuss or muss, obliges. And, here I sit. The bus stop is a familiar spot. While the bench is both inhospitable and uncomfortable, it is at least warm from my sitting on it for so long. The thing is this. The view doesn’t change. I’m tired of being here and I want to experience something new and somewhere else! But, dammit, to get much of anywhere different from here, I have to get on that bus.
No joke, I just sighed out loud as I reread the first two paragraphs.
If the bus represents challenges and areas of growth that I need to take on in my life, I have a small fleet of buses waiting in line at my bus stop. The bus at the front of the line, right now, is living out loud. By that I mean, sharing myself without ducking… whether it is writing, creating a painting, taking photos, sharing a video log or showing up at an event or get together that I’d rather hide away from. I know I’ve written about this before. That was the same bus idling at my bus stop. The driver of this, and every bus like it, is so very patient, consistent and, yeah, relentless.
I’m off my bench, walking up those bus steps and sitting my butt in the front aisle. My seat is cold. There are no seat belts. I have no idea where the bus driver is headed.
Wish me luck. And, if I try to bolt at the next stop… do me a favor and remind me that I got on this bus for a reason. I want to see this journey, no matter how long it takes, to the end.