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.

The reason it is tricky to summarize neatly the activities and ethos shared here is because our collective work is ongoing and ever-changing. Like a quilt, there is a patchwork of partner groups, retreat participants and neighbors who share a love for this place and who arrive over and over again with hearts and minds open to whatever there is to encounter.