Traffic Lights.

Sitting in traffic, on my way to work, I couldn’t help but notice, out of the corner of my eye, in the long line of taillights and what appeared to be disgruntled employees headed off to their place of work, the change from Red to Green on the traffic light. It sounds odd, however, the change is not a subtle one, but a strong contradiction from one indication to “Stop,” to the allowance of “Go.” Even with all the chaos of people, distraction of my own upcoming busy day, the images of buildings already full, people walking on the side walk, a women in her car with her gloves and hat still on as though the 30 degrees outside isn’t enough to keep her warm, the light change grabs my attention with such ferocity it would have hit me if I had been any closer. 

The green lights are the most intriguing for we are in place prior to seeing it, or we are racing towards the intersection with the hope the light changes on time so we do not have to pump the brakes. A little game I play is to try and “time” the lights as I go through intersection after intersection and see if I can move at a steady speed without pause. My wife says I pump the brakes quite a bit. I believe that I pump due to my exaggerated response for falling behind, or noticing a gap from me and the car ahead, speeding up to close the gap, and then having to hit the brakes because I got too close. I hardly notice, for this behavior originated prior to driving. I live life by speeding up due to falling behind, only to pump the breaks because I got ahead of myself. 

The green light jumps rather than slides into eyesight of the awaiting traffic. Sometimes the green could be nothing more than an indicator to do something, to proceed on to the next destination. Sometimes the green light comes to us as a relief that we can finally get going, for we are on a time crunch. Sometimes the green can be a detriment when we wanted to send that one last message though do not want to “text and drive.” For some, it comes as a surprise, such as when I look ahead one second, down for a bit, up again to realize that the cars in front of me are gone and the light is turning yellow. “Sorry line of cars, I am much obliged I did not get the ‘courtesy’ honk.” 

I have a tendency to “run behind,” to appointments or misappropriate time on a commute I make every day. On these occasions the green means satisfaction. It is definitely satisfying to continue on without having to wait for others and their crossing in front of me, as though their light favors them. I watch as the last car hurries through the forced yellow into red, which puts me to the front of the next pack of cars awaiting the transition from stop to go. Go seems to be always better than stop, though stop is necessary, and nobody even in their most hurried state would think that they should not have to stop sometime. Stopping to allow others to go is what driving is all about. If there were not stops, then we would never go again, we would always be go-ing after all. Stops are also what allows us to see inside the windows next to us and determine if that person was as good-looking, or not so good-looking as we caught a glimpse of back at the earlier light. As a friend once pointed out to me, "There always seems to be attractive people in cars next to us at the stop lights and yet, we never see those people in public. It’s like, where do all those people go?” This, as I am rolling at the truth in the sentence. 

The green despite the yellows or reds, which have their significance and will cover at another time, seems to bring about a favor to most of us, most of the time. There is anticipation and adherence, even anger in red, yellow is a warning and therefore flight or freeze is the response, but the universal green, the light at the bottom of the chain is the one we want. Green is the star of the show, the one we are awaiting to see through red’s opening act.

A conditioned response, for it should be that green does not just mean “go,” but that it means move, for “go” is a general idea and I can “go” backwards, where the intent at a light to “go” forwards. I want to proceed rather than digress. I want to advance, not decline. Green indicates that where I am, I should no longer be. I should now be somewhere else. The suggestion the light makes to be elsewhere means that even a machine tells me what to do. It, only knows three colors and an arrow every once in a while, yet reminds me what I tend to forget. I am not where I should be, though it was OK to be there for a time. Just like red reminds me that where I am at is OK, green says otherwise. Why do I tend to agree with green and not red? Why can I not just be here, in this road, amongst all these other people? After all, did I not just admit that they are by all appearances going to a job they do not look too thrilled about? Are we all here, at this red light, for a purpose? Are we all right where we are supposed to be, chaperoned be a red hue, a top notch on the light pole? 

Green’s argument is a strong one to red’s, and tends to be more favorable. Apparently, we all want to be elsewhere, where yellow argues slow down. Green means go, move quickly, for the people behind you have to be somewhere and here you are sitting. Green indicates more, a new destination, a reminder of where we were, now gone, for we are not only holding up our own progress, but that of those behind us. For there appears to be no worse an act than the vehicle that refuses to move when the light tells it to. The people, awaiting allowance to proceed, are now emotional, upset that you are not abiding by the laws of the different colored lights. 

Thank you green as you allow me to pass and on to another destination with a bridge guard all decked out in red. I can see it from here. 

A book, a collection of ideas, perspectives. Put together with a purpose to enhance those who suffer. This book, found Here.