How Are A Labyrinth And A Bus Ride Similar?

At first the notion of a bus ride and a labyrinth being similar seemed strikingly incongruous, even to me, the one who was suggesting it. People reading what I was writing about this kinship would think I wasn’t making any sense at all.

How can a bus ride and a
labryrith be similar?

If a bus ride could be comparable to a labyrinth, don’t you think you would get lost? Especially just when you were intending to head some place more definite? Why else be on a bus in the first place? Just thinking about it makes me a bit dizzy. Still the likeness between the two came to my mind this morning. And, since I am not one to dismiss things I think out of hand, I paid it some heed. You know, training in Freudian slips and all that stuff.

Still thinking I could not yet offer words of my own to describe how I experienced yesterday’s Abkhazian Dinner event, I eventually wound up calling “My Sue” about this puzzlement I had brought upon myself. Obviously as I had already done the online search work of locating a suitable labyrinth graphic, I wasn’t completely ready to put my idea, harebrained though it might be, aside. Words were not coming easily to me this day. Besides I had already drafted the article for Anastasia The Storyteller, though I wasn’t certain as to whether or not to post it.

Sue, my dear Sue, always by my side whether she’s there physically or not, loved what I wrote. (I often read my writings to her for input and feedback.) She thought it was awesome!

“But, Sue, said I, I’m not sure that what I wrote makes any sense. It seems so kind of “out there,” so abstract. I’m not sure myself I even understand what I wrote.”

“You understand it,” said Sue. “You have a brilliant ability to connect the dots of things and see them, often way ahead of what others are able to see. Your being blind, apparently, helped develop this visionary ability in you, I believe. Trust yourself. Trust your sight. You know what you see.”

“It’s true there isn’t much about what you are saying that’s concrete. There is, however, one thing people that attended the Abkhazian Dinner might be able to see. With your words, you have drawn out some of the road map from Murat’s “Bus Ride” story and made it visible.”

Go figure, said I to myself as I, proceeded to let go of my trepidation and post that article.

Thought for the day:
How can a labyrinth and a bus ride be similar?