By Jennifer Silverman
In life, signs are everywhere. Some signs, like billboards, road markers and posted placards, are physical: “Stop,” “Caution,” “No shoes, no shirt, no service.” Conversely, some signs are metaphysical – whispers that nudge us from within until we comply, guiding us toward or away from someone or something. Be they a hunch, a coincidence or an aha moment, intuitive signs are the best kind of roadmaps – free of charge, always in stock and unique to each of us.
Ironically, the unwritten signs we encounter may eventually mimic the written ones. We might feel compelled to halt a la a stop sign, or re-evaluate as per a caution sign, or wear shoes … you get the idea. After all, a caution sign demands that we change course – perhaps en route, perhaps in life.
My island neighborhood boasts two lovely lakes, both of which are flanked by posted signs reading, “No boating. No swimming. No fishing. Use caution when approaching. Alligators are present.” When I first caught a glimpse of these notices nearly seven years ago, I must admit I found them amusing.
Although the lakes are indeed charming, the water is characteristically opaque and not at all blue. A sort of bubbly, mossy mass drifts about. And the beautiful albeit inhospitable avian menagerie rules the roost. Any mere human attempting to wade those murky waters is likely asking for trouble.
Perhaps a feathered attacker could pounce. Or the water could generate a skin condition. Or an alligator could surface, strong-arming brave explorers to run for their life. Sure, nary a gator has been spotted in Amelia Park for decades. Nonetheless, between the umber water and the territorial fowl, our conveniently located ocean seems like a far better locale for water-based pursuits.
Recently, I noticed several boys with fishing poles at the lakes, actively pursuing creatures of the deep. I couldn’t help but chuckle. All were certainly old enough to read and comprehend the “no fishing” sign. One fishing fella was standing squarely next to the sign, ostensibly imagining it away.
What is it about signs that goad us to categorically ignore them? Do we object to rules in general and resent being told how to behave? Do we avoid the marked route because we distrust anything that comes easily? Do we simply feel in our bones that we know best? (To heck with people-eating alligators.)
I liken the phenomenon of ignoring inner and outward signs to the stereotypical dude who refuses to ask for directions. (Even in techie times, getting lost is still a thing – trust me.) As a result, the guy may wander the desert aimlessly for days. He may miss his family reunion. He may rack up thousands of miles on his rented car. Regardless, he is determined to find his own way, without heeding any guidance.
I’m reminded of an episode of “The Golden Girls,” in which the character of octogenarian Sophia Petrillo, played by Estelle Getty, volunteered an insightful tidbit: “Why do blessings always wear disguises? If I were a blessing, I’d walk around naked.” It’s as though something within us believes wholeheartedly that we shouldn’t trust any sign, because surely, they are not what they seem.
Perhaps we’ve made an utterly simple concept, like signs, unnecessarily complicated. Why do we insist on dressing our blessings in disguises? How come we don’t consider definitive signs to be, well, definitive? (“Stop,” for instance, is seldom an ambiguous term.) Why do we question or downright ignore our internal guidance system?
Maybe the longer we hush those whispered directions, the longer we feel lost. We have all faced forks in the road, times of uncertainty and internal searches. So, why not donate all the disguises piling up in our mental attics, and reframe signs as blessings to be welcomed? Giving signs the benefit of the doubt just might steer us toward a detour in the right direction. And hey, if signs aim to protect us from both actual and metaphorical alligators, why not take the hint?
Jennifer Silverman has served as a celebrity wardrobe stylist for hundreds of TV personalities and professional athletes. A couple of her favorite projects include the Olympic Games and the Oscars. Silverman and her Westie, Petunia, relocated from Manhattan to Amelia Island in 2019. She launched her popular newspaper column, The Curious Columnist in 2022. Additional quirky commentary penned by Silverman is available by visiting www.CuriousColumnist.com. Email her at Jennifer@CuriousColumnist.com
