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.

Mist is a threshold phenomenon. Sometimes one crosses the threshold swiftly, trailing clouds of glory and falling into the waiting, loving hands of a new life.  More often, I suspect, one lingers, wondering, scanning the veiled horizon.