Hope waits not for perfect soil. She wanders among the weeds and stones in her own confidence. She knows the ultimate horizon, yet she speaks not of it to anyone. It is in that quiet storm that she beckons one to come and sit – holding that sense that those who will be at her table will need little assurance of her promise.
One who has dined with Hope feels the inner satisfaction of knowing, yet not knowing. Taking in the food of Hope is just that – the stand between the worlds of seeing with despair, and seeing with understanding in the ultimate goodness of all that is.
No one can claim Hope as his or her own. She will reside where she finds welcome. Her requirements are few: – an openness to dream possibilities not yet dreamed – The curiosity of one not encumbered by preconception – a willingness to move honestly through emotion and feeling – a capacity to action of the heart.
The Garden where Hope has taken root becomes the nourishment of the deeper self – of the planter, and all the web of life. It brings a fire that burns away all fear and doubt, clearing away everything that blocks horizonal vision.
She is the great Restorer of our true nature.