Tag: signs

Re: Sign

We have tried to find significance throughout history for the meaning of stuff. Shaman’s and soothsayers, seers, witches and warlocks would take mystical readings of signs revealed only through their extra sensory powers. From an eye of newt or an eagle’s claw the fortune teller could predict the future and our place in it.

Some signs we must obey. Some signs can tempt us to misbehave. Other signs we ignore at our peril. Quite a few signs seem so absurd they seem meant to make us laugh. The Five Man Electrical Band had a groovy song about being pissed off with so many signs. Here’s a version of that song with some far out signage someone posted on YouTube.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qLm3HMG8IhM

When I was in my late teens I got interested in calligraphy. I was fascinated with stories of how some criminal cases could be solved by examining the handwriting found at the scene of a crime. I practiced my signature and settled on a swirling capital T that apparently showed I had an artistic sensibility. Nowadays the signing of a document can be digitally formatted. Codes and passwords have become the way we determine the validity of an individual. We have vestiges of these olden times with the language we use. I can’t remember the last time I used my ‘John Hancock’. A signature is still required on a business contract. When you get married does one still sign the register? I signed a cheque months ago for a deposit on a rental. I recall enticements to get things on credit: All I had to do was ‘Sign on the dotted line!’

My grandson’s first fascination was with signs on posts. On toddling walks he would point out the little squares and rectangles and I would tell him what they said. The circle that said STOP was important. He puzzled over the triangle yield sign but his little feet scampered and got all tangled as he approached all the instructional messages posted near garbage cans.

A barefoot life is freeing but I have to check my feet regularly to look for calluses or other signs of road wear. The other day I noticed itchy, red and roughened toes, a hot sensation even though my feet felt cold. I typed the symptoms into a web doctor on my laptop and gosh a picture of my feet came up on the computer screen. ‘Chilblains’ declared the caption. I was aghast that somehow I had contracted something with a nineteenth century sound to it.  Vicks VapoRub came to the rescue.

Being a Boy Scout taught me some cool tricks about survival. I learned how to spot trail markers that serve me now as a metaphor for finding my way. It’s a sign of our times that we have become distracted by inconsequential stuff. I fear we’ve lost our ability as a society to pay attention to signals. Climate change is telling us something and because of light pollution we can no longer determine what might be written in the stars.

Re: Protest

I live in a community where people come out to protest on a regular basis. I join in because I naively see it as a sign of democratic action. Based on the signs people carry to support their outrage/concern, there may be other motivations for their presence in the crowd. For example, at a recent climate change rally, I saw one overweight man sporting a T-shirt that read ‘I love CO2’ while waving another ‘I love fossil fuels’. Was he after sales or just being contrary?

Being somewhat afraid of large crowds and a functional introvert to boot, you can often find me at rallies like this leaning against a tree where I can appreciate the shade or gain some shelter from the drizzle. An activist I’m not. Rather a cheerleader/witness. My sign would probably read; ‘I see what you mean’ or ‘I’m here for you.’ Some protest signs written by a more anarchistic sort can seem like manifestos: small print on corrugated cardboard, begging to be read, to acknowledge the effort that it took to pour out such passionate thoughts. Short form declaration: ‘Pay attention! I mean it!’

Protests I’ve attended clearly allow folk to vent. Quiet self expression is as evident as a collective shout of alarm. At a recent Fridays For Future congregation I was impressed how Greta Thunberg’s leadership had encouraged a diversity of ages, backgrounds and emotions to come together in a harmonious demonstration of concern over the climate crisis. Amidst the speeches, music and cheering a small hole opened in a part of the crowd as a lone middle-aged male removed his clothes and poured a bottle of motor oil over his body, miming his anguish over pipeline leaks. He wasn’t arrested. People gave him space.

In our city protests tend to be peaceful. Marches and rallies offer up chants, poems, speeches and slogans. Some who line the streets join in if they find a friend or are moved by the cause. Sometimes it seems counterproductive to see smiles on the protesters’ faces while they’re shouting to end war. It makes me wonder about the line between protest and carnival. But in Canada it’s true we are polite and, for better or worse, we work hard at trying not to offend others, even those with whom we disagree.

Art lives and thrives in protest settings. Feelings pour out in creative ways. I always feel grateful for the civility expressed at protest gatherings I’ve been to in Canada. I’ve heard bystanders thank the calm looking police officers for just being there. My sons, in contrast, have been witness to protests that have started out civil but have turned violent, often as a result of police being instructed to clamp down on demonstrators.

There is much injustice in our current world. Perhaps there always has been, yet now it’s easier to see. It’s easier to name the wrongs. It’s easier to find something or someone specific to blame. At the same time it seems harder to find someone who will listen. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4r3KlDamA3U