We buy our eggs from a Mennonite family who live on the Loch Broom Loop. At the end of their driveway by the mailbox there are two signs. One is always the same. Brown Eggs for Sale (No Sunday Sales). The other changes regularly for reasons I don’t know. Sometimes I imagine it may reflect someone’s mood. Fearful and foreboding. Hopeful and inspiring. Stern. Forgiving.
Lately the sign has said, LOVE NOT THIS WORLD.
Arranging these lines I almost step on a small, spotted frog. Glistening gem in the wet grass. The other day I almost did the same to a snake. Writing in my head. Walking blind. Startled awake.
I know and understand the sign. It’s common to many religions and spiritual paths. The problem is, I really like the world. Hell, I’d go so far as to say I love it. There are thousands, maybe millions of minnows in the fishway this morning. My approach scares off a pair of kingfishers.