It’s Fun Knowing Writers Since They’ll Talk Intricately About A Scene 5 Novels In That Recontextualizes

“Some years ago, I was stuck on a crosstown bus in New York City during rush hour. Traffic was barely moving. The bus was filled with cold, tired people who were deeply irritated—with one another; with the rainy, sleety weather; with the world itself. Two men barked at each other about a shove that might or might not have been intentional. A pregnant woman got on, and nobody offered her a seat. Rage was in the air; no mercy would be found here.

But as the bus approached Seventh Avenue, the driver got on the intercom. “Folks,” he said, “I know you’ve had a rough day and you’re frustrated. I can’t do anything about the weather or traffic, but here’s what I can do. As each one of you gets off the bus, I will reach out my hand to you. As you walk by, drop your troubles into the palm of my hand, okay? Don’t take your problems home to your families tonight—just leave ‘em with me. My route goes right by the Hudson River, and when I drive by there later, I’ll open the window and throw your troubles in the water. Sound good?”

It was as if a spell had lifted. Everyone burst out laughing. Faces gleamed with surprised delight. People who’d been pretending for the past hour not to notice each other’s existence were suddenly grinning at each other like, is this guy serious?

Oh, he was serious.

At the next stop—just as promised—the driver reached out his hand, palm up, and waited. One by one, all the exiting commuters placed their hand just above his and mimed the gesture of dropping something into his palm. Some people laughed as they did this, some teared up—but everyone did it. The driver repeated the same lovely ritual at the next stop, too. And the next. All the way to the river.

We live in a hard world, my friends. Sometimes it’s extra difficult to be a human being. Sometimes you have a bad day. Sometimes you have a bad day that lasts for several years. You struggle and fail. You lose jobs, money, friends, faith, and love. You witness horrible events unfolding in the news, and you become fearful and withdrawn. There are times when everything seems cloaked in darkness. You long for the light but don’t know where to find it.

But what if you are the light? What if you’re the very agent of illumination that a dark situation begs for?

That’s what this bus driver taught me—that anyone can be the light, at any moment. This guy wasn’t some big power player. He wasn’t a spiritual leader. He wasn’t some media-savvy “influencer.” He was a bus driver—one of society’s most invisible workers. But he possessed real power, and he used it beautifully for our benefit.

When life feels especially grim, or when I feel particularly powerless in the face of the world’s troubles, I think of this man and ask myself, What can I do, right now, to be the light? Of course, I can’t personally end all wars, or solve global warming, or transform vexing people into entirely different creatures. I definitely can’t control traffic. But I do have some influence on everyone I brush up against, even if we never speak or learn each other’s name. How we behave matters because within human society everything is contagious—sadness and anger, yes, but also patience and generosity. Which means we all have more influence than we realize.

No matter who you are, or where you are, or how mundane or tough your situation may seem, I believe you can illuminate your world. In fact, I believe this is the only way the world will ever be illuminated—one bright act of grace at a time, all the way to the river.“

–Elizabeth Gilbert

rb to give your mutuals a silly little paper valentine card and a red heart shaped lollipop 💖

"You don't know me. I'm not the same person anymore."

"That's okay. I'll get to know you again."

Congratulations! You have formed what is known in linguistics as a

blend.

This is when you take two words and smash em together, nice and squishy-like!

In your case, you have created a word that means:

glamorous garb.

We forecast this word will be especially popular in LARP and boffer combat areas!

GLARB.

"oak and ash and thorn good sirs" but it's "salud dinero amor good sirs"

would you put a discarded fruit sticker on my forehead in whimsical jest yes or no

all y'all this is for you

reblog to tell your mutual you’re proud of them and it’ll all work out

hey fellas! it's real life! means you get sick sometimes 🙃

am sick

"And... what do I do with the other two wishes?" the genie asks, looking... uncomfortable?

You thumb through the book in your hand, watching the genie flicker like stop motion as you look between her and the book's pages. The deal is done. You close the book and set it aside.

"Well, you could just give them to the next person, right?"

"No, each person gets three. You, the next person, the next. They can't have four or five."

"But I can have just one, right?"

"Honestly... I don't know? From what I know it's more transitory; you can have one wish under the premise that you will eventually have your second and third."

There are things you could wish for. Maybe you could apply the same principle to writing. Or you could as for a nice honey and lemon drink, something to just get the wishes out of the way. But something inside you just... doesn't want that.

"What about you?" you find yourself asking, eyes lowered to the ground. Ashamed? "Does it... does it ever get tiring?"

She heaves a sigh. "If you're thinking about wishing for my freedom, hoping to leverage a friend out of the deal, I prefer to remain in my genie state. (And they patched that bug years ago.)"

"Of course they did," you muse, not giving that part too much thought. You were asking a different question. "But what I meant was, the magic. Do you ever get tired?"

She's quiet for a moment. "What do you mean?" she asks, voice a little whisperier than before.

"Is that a yes?"

Quiet.

"You could - you could stay here. Or everywhere. Wherever. You don't have to not be a genie, you just don't have to grant wishes for a while either. I'm still thinking of my last two wishes." Your heart is beating way harder than you feel is justified. You pick up the book again and open it to some page in the beginning middle, staring down the words until your racing heart slows down.

You close the book to find the genie lost in thought.

She looks at you with a half smile. "I gave you that power, you know. I'm something of exempt from the time-pausing."

You redden a bit. "Sorry."

"It gave me time to think," she says.

You both stand there for a minute.

"And did you-"

"Keep your wishes," she blurts. "Don't use them."

You're both trembling, you because of what you might have just done, her probably for similar reasons.

"Do you want a hug?"

She engulfs you in a huge embrace, still shaking like a leaf. "I'll be back one day," she says.

Then the hug ends, and she turns and goes. Out the door and gone.

You retire to the couch to scrunch up in a corner and process everything that just happened. Time would pass, and...

Well, you had work in the morning. You pick up a book. No matter what you read, it all comes out reminding you of her.

She'd be back one day.

"YOU HAVE THREE WISHES," the genie says grandly. "Oh no, that's fine I don't need all three. I just wanted one." The genie raises an eyebrow. "So what is your 'one' wish?" "I wish for time to stop every time I pick up and read a book—and start again when I put it down, so I always have time to read."