A strong west wind blows clear, crisp air across the farm, the sun warms the land.  My cat has pulled chicken bones out of the compost pot( I forgot to put the lid on it); my dog sits outside looking at my neighbor’s newly-arrived pregnant heifers. Earlier in the week, he chased the cows across the field: I chased him.   Now he is tied up until I can get obedience training for him. The chickens are clucking, pecking and still laying about a dozen eggs a day.

I am half-way through a process of discernment to find a clear focus, the right structure and enough support for the next chapter of White Rose Farm.  After the extreme weather of last year, I wanted to reflect deeply on what the farm is meant to be.  

The discernment process has been rich and telling--a weaving of inner and outer dimensions: dreams, emotions, healing, chance encounters, planned activities, ideas and conversations.  I have felt tremendous support from friends far and near.

Over the last two weeks, several people have suggested that the farm may have been used by the native peoples as a sacred site. My father may have disturbed the site when he built the house at Ruggles Road.  This raises questions about how we Westerners, relative newcomers, honor and acknowledge places that native people held sacred. How do we or can we, with our different foundation of faith, acknowledge and respect these ancient foundations? I do not know; I do not know how to know—except through an inner discerning—and an opening to new dimensions.   

Marko Pogacnik, in his book, Touching the Breath of Gaia, wrote that “Past peoples sought out locations where, by the nature of the landscape, conversation runs freely between the inward space of earth’s centre and the universe of the stars.”

For a specific location, he suggests that we reach our hands deep into the earth, find the ball of perfection and bring it to the surface of the Earth.  We used that exercise in our meditation on New Year’s Eve. The ball did not want to surface for me, but I did have a sense of connecting with an inward space. I was reminded of the closing lines from the set of Qigong exercises that Renee led on Friday, a set developed by Master Li Jun Feng:

          There is only consciousness, a deep profound stillness
          The seamless silence that is both empty and full

I had experienced such seamless silence in the events hosted at Ruggles on December 30 and 31st. Could it be that the farm is meant to be a place where one connects with such silence? A place that is both empty and full? What a magnificent, mysterious possibility as the New Year dawns!

Happy New Year!

Sally