The bus is my sangha
I ride the bus to work nearly every day. I am lucky that I my commutes are usually the East West corridors, Wilshire to UCLA from La Brea, or the 3rd street and/or Beverly bus lines to downtown. These are – from what I have inferred – relatively safe and crime free. Certainly that is what I have experienced, and in fact, people are more often than not, kind, thoughtful and gracious.
I am a long time Buddhist. Buddhism is founded on a three legged stool: the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha. The Sangha is a meditation group that supports you in your practice and a place to renew practice. I have not found a Sangha in Los Angeles that I like attending regularly, but one of the reasons one goes to a Sangha is to practice with a community and to be surrounded by people who are there intentionally and are thoughtful. Well, oddly, the bus is a little like that. People are there intentionally (like you, they are going somewhere), and are mostly thoughtful. People on the bus notice. They notice who is messy, who is upset, who is old and has no seat, who has a child and needs to sit down, who is pregnant, and who is not feeling well, who also needs to sit. People give up their seats, notice if someone leaves something behind as they are leaving the bus. It is constantly surprising the level of attention that exists on the bus and the understanding that cooperation is important among bus riders. One day a person keeled over into the isle. Bus riders rallied, offering water, a helping hand. The person apparently was dehydrated, drank some water, got up and continued on riding. But while the bus was stopped to make sure he was alright, he was surrounded by concerned bus riders. Another time I left my bike helmet on my seat, someone noticed and handed it to me. This occurs all the time. Bus riding means experiences of kindness, often.
Of course there are crazies, but even so, there is a kind of a code of conduct in the bus. One time a man was unable to control his outbursts of rude language and comments. I suggested to him they were inappropriate and we did not want to hear them. He apologized, was silent for a bit, then could not help himself, and started again. I repeated my remarks, he apologized. This happened several times, until he finally left. But he knew it was not right and that it was poor conduct. He simply could not control himself and apologized. Another time a homeless-looking older white man was on the bus and – for some reason – touched a young black female. Her male companions remonstrated him. He answered back using vile racist language, and the young black males got their backs up. It was going to get ugly. Then in a corner, an older tatooed black male counseled them to let it go, to chill. They did. Things de-escalated, he left, out-matured by these young men. So impressive, so wise, so disciplined these kids were, I was so impressed. The bus is my Sangha, I learn about ordinary kindness and virtue nearly every time I ride.