Driving around the biggest of the six Hawaiian islands is like reading a book of fascinating and at times, amusing, roadsigns. You’d think they’d be the same all over the world – just in a different language, but the signs on the island of Hawaii give pause for thought. In Alaska, I’ve seen signs to be aware that you might run into a moose; in Ireland, we get the occasional deer or cattle sign, but this humpback whale collision was a first for me.
We’ve all seen the signs about road debris, gravel, and possible falling rocks. But flying rocks? And a sign warning of flying rocks with an actual rock tied to it, in case there are a few disbelievers on the road? How’s that for innovation and creativity and a reason to put up your window.
I’ve seen reserved parking signs but never before come across one quite as specific as this one. When I asked whether it was meant as a joke, no one laughed. Apparently this particular part of the island – Waipi’o Valley – is home to the some of the oldest families in Hawaii, many of whom are leaders and elders. Tourists, with their self-appointed righteousnesses have been known to walk straight through a Hawaiian ceremony in search of the waterfall. In showing such little regard for the how the locals live, it’s no wonder that signs such as these are dotted along the roadside. The ‘no spraying’ plea is a request to the state not to spray insecticide.
I’ve heard of rules of engagement, but rules of enjoyment? And what exactly is ‘inappropriate behaviour’? Given my own prudish nature, I might be a little less tolerant than most but still, I’m curious. Surely if we have rules for enjoyment, there should also be demarcations for propriety.
And this stop sign made me laugh out loud. It’s just outside the Parker Ranch over near Waimea. Church signs have long been a source of amusement for many across the States, and I know I’ve used some as examples of unintentional messages that appear by virtue of the absence of punctuation. But this one rings true.
Down on Punalu’u beach, I spotted this one, written just for me. For the ten or so years I spent in the USA, I could never get the hang of my compass points. Go south on Sepulveda? Go east on 11th? Give me right or left, straight on or back any day. On that same beach, I had to wonder at the intelligence of people using the facilities. I mean would you? Would you use shampoo so close to the ocean and the turtles? The mind boggles. Mind you, signposts that said to stay 15 feet from the turtles, writing in both English and Japanese, were also ignored. But then, not everyone has a zoom lens.
These signs though are all pretty concrete. Easy to see. Easy to read. Easy to understand. The signs that direct us through life are a little more ephemeral. A little less obvious. And all too often, they are not as easy to understand. We rely heavily on intuition – what Einstein describes as the only real valuable thing. Ingrid Bergman suggests we train our intuition – trust the small voice inside you which tells you exactly what to say, what to decide. Easier said than done, though. Alan Alda (remember him? Hawkeye from M*A*S*H?) has it sorted. He reckons that You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition. What you’ll discover will be wonderful. What you’ll discover is yourself.
Not yet fully recovered from jet lag, I’m back in Budapest. The beach has been replaced by snow. The sun has lost its heat. And I’m as tired as I have been in a long, long time. But it’s a good tiredness, a productive tiredness. My (de)fences are low, my brain is less focused on shoulds and shouldn’ts, and my intuition is taking over. This week, I’m grateful to see signs that are pointing towards some fundamental change in how I live my life. I can see them but I’ve no clue what they’re telling me. Let the year unfold and let the path reveal itself. In the meantime, I need to unpack, do laundry, and get ready for my next venture into the wilderness.
Note: For a reminder of what the Grateful series is about, check out Grateful 52