Yesterday, after a month of volunteering, we left Scargill House, a conference, holiday and retreat centre in the Yorkshire Dales run by an intentional community.

Being at Scargill has afforded us space to reflect on our experience of the past year of travel, on where we find ourselves at this point in our lives, and on what might be the path we take in the weeks and months ahead.

We have been touched by the welcome we received from the community and warmed by the openness and kindness of those we have got to know a little.

I’m not so sure we will miss the bed making, table laying, laundering or cleaning but we will miss the community…and we will miss the beauty of Wharfedale.

I had forgotten how well tended the walled garden is at Scargill House. This time of year it is a riot of colour, texture and form, and perfumed by its numerous plants, shrubs and trees.

The high limestone wall creates a very special place in which to wander or sit in secluded stillness, to listen to the song of the curlew or enjoy a moment’s relaxed reflection.

It has been a great foil to the fast paced shifts and changes of the current political scene in the UK.

One of the things we did yesterday on our walk around the estate was to wend our way along the labyrinth’s path.

It is eleven years since a group of staff and students from the University of Edinburgh came to Scargill to build the labyrinth out of limestone. It was a surprisingly special time for those of us who worked on it together.

Now it gives real pleasure to know it is used for contemplative reflection, de-stressing or just enjoying the wander amidst the beauty of the dales countryside.

Yesterday we arrived at Scargill House in Wharfedale, North Yorkshire, for a month of volunteering and reflection. As our work did not begin until today we spent part of the afternoon walking the 90 acre estate and taking in the views northwards to Kettlewell and south to Kilnsey Cragg.

In a feat of great timing we arrived on the day one of the community was having their leaving meal. Great cake and Wensleydale cheese!

In these days of political and societal uncertainty, when we take a step back to see the bigger picture of ebb and flow, these words find meaning.

…I wait for the tide to turn
Until the distant becomes close,
Until the far off becomes near,
Until the outside is within
Until the ebb flows…
…I wait for the tide to turn
Until weakness is made strong,
Until blindness turns to sight,
Until the fractured is made whole,
Until the ebb flows.

(From David Adam’s Celtic Prayers)

We took a bus from Bardon Mill in Northumberland to Carlisle, the county town of Cumbria. The red sandstone of many of the town’s buildings struck us by the depth of its colour.

We turned up at the Cathedral to discover a Celtic Eucharist about to begin. It was a good space to reflect on the seismic events of the last few days and to remember that the community of the earth live beneath the same sky of stars.

In the nearby 17th century Tullie House, now a museum and art gallery, we viewed the Roman section and were particularly drawn to an exhibition about Hadrian’s Wall and the walls that divide people and nations today. Very poignant.

That evening, back near the Northumberland stretch of wall, we watched a male woodpecker with gorgeous red plumage feed a juvenile. Simply joyful to see.

How can this place nourish the mind, body and soul so very deeply in such a short time? Perhaps only when what is essential converges…

…working the land, curlews, ducks, wild skies, rain, sunshine, limestone, curious cows, sea, simple good food, time to read, a good walk, sleep, and of course, the ease of friendship.

We are filled.