I.25 — Signposts

A signpost at a crossroads does useful work. It says which way a town lies, how far, sometimes what to expect on arrival. It does none of the arriving for you, and it is not, itself, the town.

Teachers, guides, books, this one included, are signposts. Some are carved with care and set well. Some lean, half-rusted, still pointing true despite themselves. None is the destination, and standing at one for a long time, admiring the lettering, tracing the arrow with a finger, is not the same as walking the road it points down. A person can spend a whole life at the crossroads, well-read on every sign, and arrive nowhere.

Gratitude toward a good signpost is fair, even useful. It earns thanks for the pointing, not payment for the destination. What a signpost may not do, and what marks a poor one immediately, is charge a toll: demand devotion, claim the only true direction, insist the road cannot be walked without passing through it first. A signpost that collects tolls has stopped pointing at the town and started pointing at itself.

The walking is yours alone to do. Notice, next time something claims to be more than a signpost, whether it is still pointing past itself, or only at itself.