Reflections on the Light Bus

In the late 60s I attended the Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore. Psychology was my area of study, but I was interested in all things of the mind during this time of ferment with conflicts over racism, war, the draft, weapons of mass destruction, and riots. Among the turmoil, there was a thriving community exploring new and old approaches to spirituality through bodywork, yoga, meditation, ancient wisdom, astrology, the paranormal and entheogens. There were Rosicrucian, Liberal Catholic and Theosophical activities and a commune in a beautiful old mansion (that later included complimentary healthcare offices where I shared an office with another practitioner). The Aquarian Age Bookstore on Charles Street offered a wide spectrum of books and items spanning ancient wisdom to the New Age. The AUM Esoteric Studies Center offered various kinds of classes, including studies in symbology presented by notable artist Bob Hieronimus.

Bob painted symbol-rich murals on walls (like in the Johns Hopkins Levering Hall that was restored a couple of years ago (https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=46&v=MLkjzg3Q6PA). His murals were also found on the outside of buildings, giving a striking ancient presence to old Baltimore. And then there was the VW beetle and a VW bus – the Light Bus, named for a rock band called “Light.” (The bus was in front of the stage at Woodstock in 1969.) Bob’s work was sometimes incorrectly seen as psychedelic, but had a depth reflected in its expressions of archetypal motifs. It had meaning and, for some of us, it was part of a prophetic thread that ran from the depths of time through our then-current social struggles and into our hopes for a better future.

Over the following decades of my life, some of that youthful hope and enthusiasm for what might be possible in an enlightened society faded under family responsibilities and development of a career. And it has been discouraging to see so many of the same issues still unresolved 50 years later – progress, yes, resolution, no.

Similarly, over the decades, the bus was lost. Now, half a century later, however, came the call to resurrect it. A search for the original bus was not successful, but a suitable substitute was found and has been repainted like the original. (You can find pictures on Facebook at “Woodstock Bus.”) I found out about the renewal project through a Kickstarter drive to which I contributed with great excitement. It sparked something long dormant inside of me. But why did I care about an old painted bus?

I realized that something in me had been lost over those years since the 1960s: hope, optimism, connection to the wisdom that transcended transient cultures, along with expectations of a better world beyond war and governmental corruption. Yes, the 60s was a time of unrest with war, confrontation, racism, assassinations, hippies, revolution in cultural mores, but the future still looked promising. We had hopes that things could be better, would be better.

Fifty years have gone by now and I may have a more nuanced view of light and dark, but something very ancient remains alive in many of us and the Light Bus has become a worthy expression of it. At this stage of my life, I find the archetypal struggle between light and darkness to be about revelation and evolution, rather than revolutionary conquest.

The Second Coming of the Light Bus has been just in time for me. Something lost in me has been restored by its re-appearance. Many thanks to Bob and company.