Hundredfold Farm Cohousing Community

"a place to grow"

Hundredfold Farm Cohousing, Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

The Poetry of Hundredfold Farm

If you give a man a fish, he will have a meal.

If you teach a man to fish, he will have a living.

If you are thinking a year ahead, sow seed.

If you are thinking ten years ahead, plant a tree.

If you are thinking one hundred years ahead, educate the people.

By sowing seed once, you will harvest once.

By planting a tree, you will harvest tenfold.

By educating the people, you will harvest one hundredfold.

An Anonymous Chinese poet, 420 B.C.

My heart is moved by all I cannot save; 

so much has been destroyed

I have to cast my lot with those

  who, age after age, 

perversely, with no extraordinary 

power, reconstitute the world.

Adrienne Rich

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good. 

You do not have to walk on your knees 

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. 

You only have to let the soft animal of your body 

love what it loves. 

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. 

Meanwhile the world goes on. 

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain 

are moving across the landscape, 

over the prairies and the deep trees, 

the mountains and the rivers. 

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, 

are heading home again. 

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, 

the world offers itself to your imagination, 

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-- 

over and over announcing your place 

in the family of things.

Mary Oliver


To my fellow swimmers:

There is a river now flowing very fast.

It is so great and swift

And there are those who will be afraid.

They will try to hold on to the shore.

They will feel that they are being torn apart

and will suffer greatly.

Know that the river has its destination.

The elders say we must let go of the shore.

Push off into the middle of the river.

Keep our eyes open and our heads above water.

And I say,

See who is in there with you and celebrate!

At this time in history we are to take nothing personally.

Least of all ourselves.  For the moment that we do,

Our spiritual growth and journey comes to a halt.

The time of the lone wolf is over.

Gather yourselves!

Banish the word “struggle” from your attitude and vocabulary.

All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner

And in celebration.

We are the ones we have been waiting for.

Message from the Hopi Elders
New Year 2000


Until one is committed there is hesitancy,

the chance to draw back,

always ineffectiveness concerning all acts of initiative and creation.

There is one elementary truth,

the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans;

That the moment one definitely commits oneself,

then providence moves too.

All sorts of things occur to help one that would never have otherwise occurred.

A whole stream of events issue from the decision,

raising one’s favor, all manner of unforeseen incidents, and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.

Whatever you do, begin it.

Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.

Begin it now.



The eyes of the future are looking back at us

And they are praying for us to see beyond our own time.

They are kneeling with hands clasped

That we might act with restrait,

That we might leave room

For the life that is destined to come.

Terry Tempest Williams


A Vision

If we will have the wisdom to survive,

to stand like slow-growing trees on a ruined place,
Renewing it, enriching it,
If we will make our seasons welcome here,
Asking not too much of earth or heaven.

Then a long time after we are dead
the lives our lives prepare will live here,
Their houses strongly placed upon the valley sides,
Fields and gardens rich in the windows.
The river will run clear,
as we will never know it,
And over it, birdsong like a canopy.

On the levels of the hills will be green meadows,
Stock bells in noon shade.
On the steeps where greed and ignorance cut down the old forest,
An old forest will stand,
Its rich leaf-fall drifting on its roots.
The veins of forgotten springs will have opened.

Families will be singing in the fields.
In their voices they will hear a music risen out of the ground.
They will take nothing from the ground they will not return,
whatever the grief at parting.
Memory, native to this valley,
will spread over it like a grove,
and memory will grow into legend,
legend into song, song into sacrament.

The abundance of this place,
the songs of its people and its birds,
will be health and wisdom and indwelling light.
This is no paradise or dream.
Its hardship is its possibility.

Wendell Berry