Contemplations

Grief, it appears, is the guardian dog of thresholds, the faithful companion of change, the sentry of the territory between places, homes, roles, and seasons.

The world is full of miraculous beauty and punctuated by moments of splendid visions. The dark can be revelatory, and in all cases, dances with bright fire.

We hope you will join us in contributing what you can, to support this place and its connections of spirit, faith and the wild earth.

Some possibilities for dwelling in the room of liminal space might be: tend to the losses and the withholdings, but don’t lose sight of the miraculous, keep an eye out for grace.

This is when we are able to sense something beyond the anxiety and helplessness and grasp the thread that is ours to pick up in this moment of turmoil and possibility. Who knows what that may be or who we may become?

Follow along at your own pace.  Allow yourself to make generous use of silence.  Enter the parts that call to you.  Let the rest go. 

There is gratitude: for the life we have right now and the gifts of the Earth we receive each day.  In mere minutes we have fallen into a timeless place where we may find courage and provision for voyaging over a foggy sea to a destination we can’t describe.

In the grimy morass of our present dilemma, amid the dis-ease and wrenching separation, lies the buried treasure of our belonging: our deepest passion. “Hope,” says another poet (Jane Hirshfield), “is the hardest love we carry.”

There is an instinct within us in such times to gather together and rekindle the fires of meaning, vision, love, hope. Perhaps the holiest grace of Rolling Ridge is that it offers a sacred, wild space where these impulses of the human soul can flourish.