A short story about waiting for the bus

Once upon a time, there was a man named Bill. He sat at the bus stop, and it was raining. He held of bouquet. It was a bouquet of roses. They were very pretty at one point, but he had been sitting and waiting at the bus stop for a while, and they were wilting. It was wet and cold outside, but he knew that it would be better when he got on the bus. He wore a dress shirt and pants that were not warm enough to shield him from the cold, wet, weather. Bill shivered. 

He stared out at the supermarket across the street. It would be dry and warm in the supermarket, but he was waiting for the bus. 

Bill looked out at the damp scenery, doing and thinking nothing. He was simply waiting in a cold, trance-like stupor. 

A woman walked along the sidewalk, holding an umbrella. She was walking her dog, and the dog was wearing a little raincoat. As she approached the bus stop, she could see a man sitting on the bench. She wondered if he was waiting for the bus, and she wondered if he knew that the bus had been decommissioned earlier that month. The woman hesitated. Should she tell him that the bus would not come? He looked quite still and content, waiting, and she did not want to intrude. And perhaps the bus was back in order. She was afraid to interrupt his day and afraid to be wrong, so she walked past the bus stop and said nothing.

Bill waited for the bus, but the bus never came. It continued to rain for years, and for years, the bus never came. Bill sat a the bus stop, waiting for the bus. Every year that passed watered the seedling of despair that Bill nurtured in him. His bouquet of roses died, and his clothes faded. With this despair, Bill clung to the hope that the bus was almost here and that when the bus came, it would restore the delicate life in his bouquet and the robust color of his clothes, and everything would be right again. Sometimes he thought he heard the hiss of an engine or the grumble of the wheels, but it was an illusion brought on by the rain.

Eventually, Bill grew old and died at the bus stop, waiting in the rain. 

Photo by Jana Shnipelson

Moral progress

There is actually none. Zero. I do not believe that the biology of human brain has changed enough to make us lie, cheat, hurt less.

But the culture has. The institutions that uphold our societies have been modified, transformed, reinvented. I doubt it was due to everyone’s sudden enlightenment that we have formed fundamental ethical principles. But I can see how through a painfully slow, gradual shift in culture, technology, and environment, we have changed our views and with them our ways.

Take the women’s current status in society. If it wasn’t for the World Wars, one can only wonder how many more years it would have taken for them to reach it.

Men were drafted, factories became empty, someone needed to build ammunition. Women finally got a taste of independence. When the war was over and the women were sent home, they were reluctant to go back to the previous state of things

It was scientific advancements that gave us the Enlightenment. It was Industrial Revolution and Urbanization that altered the class system and stopped the slavery.

The ethical arguments for why something should be changed usually comes only after the necessary economical, technological, scientific, and other circumstances are already in place.

The most important conclusion from these facts is that even our chaotic nature can be directed in the desired path.

Even if by nature we are prone to enslaving one another, hating one another, and a myriad of other very human kind of things to do, we are, in fact, capable of controlling this nature.

Through cultural, scientific, technological and other changes, we can restrain what’s negative, and maximize what’s positive.

It can happen accidentally, as it has been for the most of human history, or, we can bring these changes about with our own efforts – by creating the necessary institutions, pushing for the appropriate cultural changes, and making the right personal decisions.

We have abolished slavery and written the human rights. Then what should stop us from ceasing lying or murder?

The truth is, it can only be us. Since we can construct these institutions and manifest these changes, we can also bring them to ruin. And much much easier so than build them.

It seems NORMAL to us that humans have rights, men and women are equal, and slavery is wrong. But it does not take much for all of this to disappear. It might be a nuclear war, it might be forming your whole identity of off your political affiliation, or simply being a jerk to the people around you. So let’s put some thought into it all.

We have been give the ten commandments. But what if we create our own – ones based on empathy, deep thought, and mutual flourishing?

https://ovsjournalists.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/64f75-1hwfvxbc9skmfpfwuicqa-q.jpeg

what are they thinking?

Sometimes I wonder what other people are thinking. I wonder if it is the same way that I think; do they look out the window and wonder how the trees feel? What secret does the wind flowing through their leaves tell? Do plants feel jealous of those more colorful or more exotic? Do they feel as people do toward each other? Does the earth feel the same emotions as me? Does it feel happiness and anger and sadness and stress? Do the sun and moon celebrate each other’s differences, or is that why they stay separate? I wonder if they really judge me like I think they do. Do they pray that I don’t sit with them when I walk in the room? Is it valid that I am afraid of what others will think of my hair or my makeup or my outfit when I get ready for the day? Should I continue to regret the embarrassing things I’ve done or said? Or has everyone already forgotten. Sometimes I want to ask people what they are thinking. I want to question them about what they think of the trees and the wind and the plants and the earth and the sun and moon, but most of all, what they think about me. 

I’m scared.

I’m scared for what the future holds, for the rest of this week.

I am scared of getting rejected from college.

I’m scared of losing all my friends.

I’m scared of how the play will turn out.

I’m scared of being alone.

I’m scared she’ll lie again.

I’m scared I’ll fail.

I’m scared they won’t believe me.

I’m scared that I’ll end up in jail.

okay, the last one just rhymed and is not realistic but I am 18 so who knows. I mean I don’t plan on committing any crimes, especially after law class.

I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m scared of a lot of stuff, and I haven’t really told anyone. I guess that’s why I get anxious and ask a lot of questions. I’m not angry or jealous, I’m just scared.

This sounds really dumb, this wasn’t what I thought I’d write about but I guess I was just overthinking. She likes to remind me of how much influence she has. She likes to put me in my place. She likes to make me feel alone. She likes to seem nice. She isn’t how she presents herself, she loves to tell a lie. God how much she loves to control me. She’s already crossed the line. She’ll do it again if you watch carefully.

This little mind of mine.

(If you thought I was talking about someone. I’m not. why did you think them?)

think.

Why do we like to be scared? | The Review
PC:https://udreview.com/why-do-we-like-to-be-scared/