By Laura Moore

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Our lives are littered with low hanging traffic signals--strung across our consciousness--and those drab lights choreograph our lives: advising us when to stop, asking us to make a decision, pushing us onward and upward down the road.

Those lights often determine our status with future lights, they dictate arrival times, they frustrate us, they taunt us, they change our direction, and they fill us with excitement when they manage to turn at just the right moment and allow us to shave minutes off of our commute.  

They teach us about the depth of our patience, our likelihood to abide by laws, our awareness of others, our propensity to reflect, our ability to rewrite plans, our willingness to accept fate, and our readiness to embrace, reject or reimagine our future.

While green lights are desirable, when we approach an intersection that propels us forward, we often fail to notice the shade of color above our heads. When lights hold us back, however, when they flash a burning yellow we know we cannot beat, we hover on the cusp--on the tip of a turning point--waiting for the chance to break, to pause, to change.  Trapped in a standstill, our engine lowers to a murmur, the sound of the music rises, and we get the opportunity to reframe, revisit and potentially redirect our path.

Sitting at that red light, we are forced to break our stride, to halt the autopilot, to wait: wait until the signal lets go, until one moment gives way to the next, until the green light fills the space at the bottom, and invites us to press on the gas and begin again.