The Spiritual Discipline of Riding the Bus

I don’t take the bus
everyday,
but last week I rode
and wondered
what I might be missing
staying alone
in my car
not cramming myself in the masses of
transit.

It can be a pain
people can be mean
and pushy,
but with graced-up eyes,
cleared out ears,
there are moments
to be alive in.

Moments of Kindness:
Many (unseen)
gestures of good
neighborliness.
One woman says to another,
“There is something dripping from your bag.”
Another leans over and asks,
“Is this your red elastic?”
So many people offer up piles of
“I’m sorry.”
They mean it.

Moments of Wonder:
On a new bus line
I saw the city
through neighborhoods
I had never
wandered around in
before.

Moments with Messages:
I quieted down
critiques in my mind,
slowed down the speed of
my impatience,
just sat
and listened.
The automated voice
announcing the next bus stop
became a gentle woman's voice
reminding me
of real life.
Live Out Grace Ave.
Rest in Beauty St.
Listen to the Story St.
Find a Silent Place . . . Pl.
Move Forward with Sensitivity St.
Don’t Be Afraid Ave.

There is so much,
She said.