Zen Station

An empty white plate with fragments of remaining empanada crumbs lies to my left as I balance a now fully consumed miniature glass bottle of what once was pineapple juice down on the table facing me. Slightly hunched over the marble square table it's difficult looking forward due to piercing yellows from a saluting sun. Enclosed within the center of three rows of small square tables I am taking a seat within the cafeteria of the Alicante bus station and without thinking I decided to eat my breakfast while facing the large rectangle shaped primary window. Two people can be faintly seen directly in front of me through the curtains of sunlight as I attempt to bat my eyelids free from their stinging discomfort.

The room is fairly large and combined with various ticket kiosks and tourist booths there exists a great deal of space for people to relax before traveling to other destinations. I, like every almost everyone here, am waiting for a bus. Based on the illuminated departure and arrival times there sits at least a few minutes before the moment arrives for me to grab my small backpack and make way towards the exit. 

With muffled and hard to recognize Spanish voices dancing with static making routine announcements the bus station is at a bare minimum capacity since it's still quite early in the morning. Before my bus arrives there isn't enough time to do anything except wait for it to lurch into the station and collect the unknown quantity of people who are finding ways to stay occupied until it's potential appearance. 

With the sun still blocking my full vision I can make out the partially concealed moving figure of a cleaning cart being guided by a soft walking bathroom attendant.

Waiting can be a difficult process. With the comfort of eye blinking speed technology and a constant rotating wheel of daily tasks it can feel like a dragging red light has been preventing you from crossing the street towards the next wave of circulating activities you would like to be swimming towards. If there was a non digital clock somewhere within the station there would sit a slightly growing suspicion that the hands were moving in the wrong direction.

In relaxed motions a series of large passenger buses can be heard accelerating in and out of the two story bus terminal but still the one I'm expecting hasn't parked in the loading bay. 

With my jacket fully zipped due to sudden chills from the outside and a backpack sitting patiently beneath my feet I'm ready for this bus to be here. However knowing that this is something I have no control over I decide to change the one thing I know is manageable, my breathing patterns.

One breath, two breaths, three breaths, four.

Repeat.

Not having any say of when this bus arrives actually isn't that bad. There isn't a button to make it change is speed nor do I have an app to know how much time it's lacking. The ticking of time will simply have to progress in its normal undisturbed pattern.

One breath, two breaths, three breaths, four.

Repeat. 

With the sun loosening its blinding powers due to incoming clouds combined with a different seating position its starting to feel relaxing having to wait. The bus will be here when it gets here, so until then all I care about is,

One, Two, Three, Four, Repeat.

Thank you for reading this blog, I hope your enjoying your day :)