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With little income, an annex was built for Dorothy in the caravan park
and the threesome started a vegetable garden. Every evening and morning
the three meditated together. Dorothy began to receive inner messages from
“nature forces” she called “devas,” and by carrying out her instructions
they were able to grow a lush garden in the poor soil. Between Eileen’s
guidance, Dorothy’s instructions and Peter’s actions, their garden became
well known and people began to join them. Eileen was told, “A whole new
world is opening up for you. Be not afraid. This center is becoming a
beacon of light which will draw souls to it. Turn no one away.”
Truth seekers as well as tree and plant experts came from far and wide,
some staying briefly and others remaining for years. As the community
grew, volunteers helped built a kitchen, a dining room, a sanctuary, and
craft studios. By 1975 there were 350 people living at Findhorn.
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“See this center in its true perfection,
filled with souls who are here simply to do My will and walk in My
ways.” |
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Reading about this
on Moorea, Andy and I were intrigued. We wondered if this was a place we
could actually visit, and when we returned to the States I wrote a
letter to Findhorn. Within two weeks I received a reply along with a
program and an invitation to attend the Findhorn Experience Week, a
prerequisite to staying longer. We were planning a trip to Europe
anyway, and the cost was reasonable, so we booked it.
This was in the
summer of 1985. By now Eileen’s guidance had been published in
best-selling books, translated and distributed all over the world.
Through reading their brochure, we learned that since The Magic of
Findhorn was published the community at Findhorn had pooled their
resources to buy not only the caravan park and the now-faded Cluny Hill
Hotel, but vacant properties in the vicinity which were turned into
habitations with spectacular gardens. Temporary visitors could pay to
join in the community as well as pitch in with the work that needed to
be done, and this brought in revenue.
|
For an update on what
has happened since we were there,
click here. |
* * *
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What follows is my diary wherein I jotted
down the experiences of our week at Findhorn. |
SATURDAY July 27, 1985
AFTER A LEISURELY
one-week bus-and-train trip from London to the north of Scotland, we spent
the night in Inverness, and the next morning caught the 10:30 bus to
Forres. We had no idea what we were in for. All we knew was what we’d read
in The Magic of Findhorn and the brochure sent us by the Findhorn
Foundation when we reserved our stay. In those pre-Internet days there was
much more suspense. Will we meet Eileen Caddy? Will we be working in the
garden? What other kinds of people will there be? Can we suffer being
vegetarians for a whole week?
Andy when we
stepped off the bus |
In the middle of Forres we stepped off the bus and asked directions.
This was a typical Scottish town. From there we had to walk a fair
distance up to the top of Cluny Hill, and when our eyes landed on
the grand old hotel against a backdrop of a vast golf course and a
clear summer’s day it was magical. People of all ages were sitting
around in small informal groups talking, some basking in the sun.
We checked in at the desk and met our “focalizers,” Angela and
Robert, who directed us to our room, #82.
As a married couple we rated a double room, and this one had
a window facing the open area in front where everyone was milling
around. In the hallway on the way to our room we noticed many
dormitories waiting to be occupied by other guests. From what we
understood there were about 150 people living here, but we didn’t
know if that included guests.
Before lunch we wandered around the common rooms, all spacious and
comfortable—even somewhat luxurious with long, stately windows. |
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Cluny Hill College |
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The entrance area |
People were sitting around basking
in the sun |
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The open window is our room
Our focalizers, Angela and Robert |
A vegetarian lunch buffet
was set up in a large, old-fashioned wood-paneled dining
room, and Andy and I kept to ourselves as we watched the others find
their friends to eat with. Most of them seemed to know each other,
and it was hard to tell which of them, if any, were new arrivals
like us.
After lunch we met our group upstairs in the Beech Tree Room, one of
several meeting places for groups. About twenty chairs had
been placed in a circle. Our initial gathering consisted of all
women and one man—my husband
Andy. We introduced ourselves (most of the girls were German,
Swedish, American, and English), received some instructions about
our stay, meditated together, and took turns telling our story of
how we came to Findhorn. Being the only woman there with a husband
put me at an distinct disadvantage; it made me self-conscious when
it was my turn to speak, as if I was being watched. I couldn’t be as
free and open as the others, who were able to reveal all in front of
this group of strangers. (Later two guys joined our group—which
eventually had around twenty people—an Italian
whom I’ll call Guiseppe who spoke no English at all and a young
American guy named Spencer.) Sensing immediately that this place was
above any one set of teachings, I did not mention the Urantia Book
by name, merely that I had read a book that had opened my eyes to
spiritual realities, and in a roundabout way that is what had led me
to Findhorn. It was obvious that no dogma or “sacred book” would
every get a foothold here and there was no “charismatic leader”
except an elderly gray-haired grandmother named Eileen Caddy who
wore knitted cardigans!
A tour of Cluny Hill Hotel followed. We were shown all the common
areas, the kitchen, the laundry room, the grounds. I was drawn to
the high ceilings and the cavernous feeling, and could easily
imagine the affluent classes of bygone days coming here to spend a
weekend golfing, dining and dancing. We learned that everything at
Findhorn has a name, including the washing machines and the
dishwasher, the idea being that if it is personalized it will
respond more positively and perhaps cooperate more fully when it
breaks down—or maybe not even break down at all! It was all very
informal—between meals you could go into the pantry and help
yourself to snacks of bread and cheese and pots of tea—self-service,
of course. |
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Our dinner was a vegetarian buffet much
like the lunch. Afterwards I joined a few of the other women in the
large, cozy lounge for tea. Andy, being outnumbered, went to bed
early, but not me. I stayed up into the middle of the night talking
with the others, comparing our spiritual paths and what had led us
here. All seemed to be open-minded truth seekers who had not yet
found all the answers. They acted politely curious when I brought up
the subject of the Urantia Book but not enough to press me for
further details. This was simply not a place for evangelizing a
particular book, so I never mentioned it again.
SUNDAY July 28, 1985
Woke up at 8:50—very late—and discovered there was only lukewarm
water for the bath! Oh, well. At 9:30 we went to the Sacred Dance,
the first item on our program for the day. I had thought we would be
danced to, but instead we had to learn several dances
ourselves, and all before breakfast or even coffee!
 <Me (on the left) with Heidi,
on a break.
After that we had brunch, then a break, then piled into the
small white shuttle bus for a brief visit to the caravan park.
This is what we had been looking forward to all along, and it
was just as we had read about. It was hard to get over my
feelings of awe that we were actually in the place where it all
began, with God and angels working with the Caddys and Dorothy
Maclean to produce this abundant garden in the sand dunes. I was
amazed that nobody else was as thrilled as I was, and as I got
to know them better I learned that they were more focused on
their personal inner growth than any growth of cabbages. At this
point I definitely regarded myself as a spectator while the
others seemed to have come here for group therapy.
After tea,
our bus took us for a tour of Cullerne, one of the nearby houses
Findhorn had acquired for domiciles and where volunteers were
cultivating thriving gardens. Five or six people seemed to be
living and working there, all very friendly and relaxed, all
smiling and very hospitable and proud to show off the results of
their labors. The informality, the freedom, the lack of
strictness and regulations was most impressive. There had to be
rules here but there seemed no need to visibly enforce them. I
was beginning to glimpse the concept of people living in harmony
at some distant future evolutionary point in the history of our
planet. It seemed to be working here!
The little white bus that took
us everywhere |
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The entrance to the Caravan
Park |
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At eight
o'clock we met at the Beech Tree Room for a work selection
session. All of us had been prepared in advance that we
would be pitching in with the work, and during this meeting
the jobs were assigned quite naturally. After we formed a
circle, our focalizers named all the jobs that needed to be
done, each falling into a particular division that had its
own leader: the Kitchen group, the Home Care group, the
Maintenance group, the Garden group, the Publishing group,
etc. They began with, “We need two people to do the job of
cutting the vegetables for lunch. Who would like to
volunteer?” Two people volunteered. Then, “Who wants to help
with maintenance? We need four people.” And four people
volunteered.
|
IMAGES FROM THE PARK
The Universal Hall |
The quiet public toilets where Eileen
Caddy escaped to to write many of her messages from God |
Walls built by volunteers, who learned stonemasonry "on the
job." |
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When too many
volunteered for a job, someone had to give it up for someone who
desired it more. And on and on until all the jobs were taken, the
last job going quite unsurprisingly to exactly the person who was
perfect for it. Andy chose to work with the maintenance group and I
with the Cluny dining room group washing dishes. I had originally
wanted to be in the Park kitchen, but someone else wanted it too, so
I gave it up.
This was
followed by a talk by a member named Alan Watson, who was quite
popular and drew a large crowd. During the feedback I felt there
were too many people to make it intimate enough. Later I went for my
usual tea downstairs in the lounge where the nucleus of a social
group was beginning to form.
MONDAY July 29, 1985
Got up just in
time for my first day at work. After a grabbing a quick cup of tea,
I met my group in the dining room promptly at 8:45. It consisted of
the focalizer (an English guy named Lewis), three women—Eugenie,
Mary and Ulrike (a German woman from my regular group)—a German guy,
and me. We had an “attunement” (a brief meditation where we held
hands in a circle and told a little about ourselves), then went off
to our assigned tasks, me to the kitchen to unload dishes from the
dishwasher, put them away, and clean out the pantry. I found out
that the dishes were only done in the morning, so I had the lunch
and dinner dishes from the day before to do as well.
For the next few
hours all around me people were busy doing something. A cluster of
workers sat around a table in the kitchen cutting vegetables and
preparing food, presumably for all the meals until tomorrow, and the
kitchen in general was a beehive of activity. I marveled at the way
all the work seemed to be getting done in just a few hours, and I
was so busy with my thousands of plates and cups that I barely
noticed the time flying. Ulrike was my partner, and as we clattered
our plates we got to know all about each other as we related our
life stories. |
"Giuseppe," the Italian guy
Andy
strolls amidst a typical scene at Cluny |
We
finished up just before lunch, and I met up with Andy in the
dining room. He had spent the morning painting hallways with
his group, and came walking back with his work partner, the
Italian Giuseppe. They had been trying to communicate with a
newly-invented language calculator Guiseppe had brought
along and was anxious to try out, and in our stop-and-go
conversation we managed to find out some odds and ends about
him as he tried to tell us his story. For lunch we had baked
potatoes and cauliflower with sauces, which some other group
had prepared as their work.
After
lunch our group assembled in the Ballroom for games—all
group-encounter-type games. Some girls got very emotional.
Somehow I felt that I was beyond these games but I tried to
look for the value in them. Games we played:
1) Tag with
pillow.
2) Fisherman’s dance
3) Name game
4) Steering the car
5) Mirror image game
6) Rescuing the tense person
7) Group hug
The Name
Game made our adrenalin rush when we were told we’d be
learning a technique to memorize and recite—within the
allotted time—the names of everyone in the circle. Everyone
did well, and I was surprised when it was my turn that I was
able to score 100%.
During
the “rescue” game Andy and I were separated after drawing
lots for partners. He had to stroke and comfort a beautiful
blond Swedish girl named Kiki who started to cry, and this
made me very jealous. My partner was a sweet woman but my
heart wasn’t into rescuing her when I really needed
to go over and rescue my husband!
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The idea of a
group hug terrified me because of my claustrophobia, and sure
enough, as we began to merge into one large body, I became smothered
between people in front and behind me, swaying back and forth in
unison, for what promised to be a lo-o-o-ng hug. As I began to
hyperventilate I turned within and begged God to please not
let me embarrass myself by panicking and disturbing everyone else’s
moment of bliss. Immediately a warm glow swept over me and I relaxed
enough to go with the flow in a hug that lasted a good five or ten
minutes.
The value of
these games, I learned, was that you learn who in the group is your
soulmate afterwards when you get together in the lounge and
talk about the games. Here is where I became chummy with
Elizabeth, a striking and cultured Englishwoman, when we sat down
together and both agreed some of the games were downright silly.
These pockets of free time between scheduled activities were
becoming the highlights of the day for some of us.
After dinner we
met as usual in the Beech Tree Room for “feedback and sharing,”
discussions moderated by our focalizers and designed to draw out
those with inferiority complexes. Strangely, I, who did not have a
complex to begin with, felt intimidated in this setting, and even
found myself stammering and blushing when called upon to speak. I
had come here to see nature spirits and instead I was listening to
hurt and broken women who had come to be healed, revealing more than
I wanted to know about them. At that time in my life I was going
through a very positive stretch, no worries to speak of, feeling
very happy and connected to God, and I was always a little
uncomfortable in that circle and even a little guilty for not
feeling damaged. Normally I would have made something up just to fit
in, but with Andy in the room, I didn’t dare.
In the evening
we were shown a slide film on Erraid, a Scottish island where
Findhorn folks live and fish and take in guests, followed by our
usual gathering in the lounge with pots of tea.
TUESDAY July
30, 1985
Up and dressed
for a quick breakfast and then to the attunement session with my
work group. Listening to everyone open up about what had happened to
them since we last met was more comfortable today than yesterday,
and we continued to talk and laugh as we worked together in the
kitchen from nine to noon.
Today’s lunch
was a vegetable casserole. It felt good to have all that meaningful
work under my belt, with the rest of the day ahead for having fun
with my new friends. I sat with Ulrike and waved at Andy who was
eating way across the dining room with new friends from his work
group, including Guiseppe with whom he was deep in animated
conversation. It seems that during their close association painting
walls they had developed their own language, with a vocabulary
growing more extensive daily.
At two we met
for a group picture then were driven to Randolph’s Leap, the
traditional Findhorn nature spot made famous by ROC, Robert Ogilvie
Crombie, who believed this was a good spot for seeing and sensing
nature spirits. We didn’t see any but we imagined them looking at
us. For a couple of hours we milled around, took pictures and sat on
rocks talking and finding more things in common with each other.
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With Andy and our new friends at Randolph's Leap. I am not in
these pictures because I took them all.
I wish I could remember
everyone's names. |
Heidi,
Elizabeth (black cape), Christina (front), Kathy (blue jacket) |
|
"Giuseppe"
and Andy in the back, Christina on the left |
 |
Christina and Andy |
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From there we
were driven to Humboldt House, a large mansion occupied by Findhorn
residents who were devoted to the task of growing trees. I’ll never
forget “the girl who loved trees” who gave us the tour. As she
proudly and enthusiastically showed us one budding sprout after
another in the large greenhouse, we all marveled that here was
someone who had truly found where she belonged in the world! |
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SCENES FROM CULLERNE GARDENS
At left is the Findhorn
Gardens
herb garden postcard. |
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Inside we were
served tea as a backdrop for more socializing. By now, individual
personalities were beginning stand out.
Back for dinner,
then up to the Beech Tree Room for feedback and sharing and a lecture by
a member on management and finances. As usual Andy went to bed early and
I escaped with my gang of women to the lounge for real
sharing, where we let out all the stuff we were bottling up inside in
the circle.
WEDNESDAY July 31, 1985
Late breakfast, and
instead of work this morning we had a “sharing session” in the Beech
Tree Room. It was quite tense and many people spoke up. Tess, a young
and attractive American girl, was celebrating her birthday and a cake
was brought in. Her budding relationship with the one and only young
single guy in the group, Spencer, was stimulating mild gossip; and
although it had just begun, already there was discord. This was supposed
to be a joyful occasion, but Tess was pouting. Then, in the middle of
the birthday party, Kiki and Maria, two Scandanavian girls who were both
very weepy and needy, left and never came back—presumably returning all
the way to Sweden. We were baffled to imagine what had upset them so
much.
After our macaroni
and cheese lunch, Andy and Elizabeth and I went upstairs to the library
containing books and tapes from every philosophy, religion and teaching
that people have brought to the community from all over the world. The
windows revealed spectacular views of the golf course and idyllic
countryside. While Elizabeth and I browsed the shelves, Andy sat in an
easy chair listening to David Spangler tapes with headphones. (David
Spangler was an early member who had written a number of popular new age
books that helped bring attention to Findhorn.) With the sun streaming
in, it was a peaceful, restful atmosphere. Finding ourselves a corner to
sit in, Elizabeth, who was quickly becoming my best friend at Findhorn,
told me details of her life in London while I reciprocated with an
account of my life in Los Angeles.
 |
 |
|
looking up at the
windows of the library |
At 1:15 we all piled
into the Findhorn bus (which is someone else’s job to drive) for a trip
to the caravan park for our daily work—I weeded the garden and Andy
chopped wood and cut grass with a sickle. We were taught how to talk to
the weeds and comfort them before pulling them out so they would
cooperate with us. It really did seem to work, and I felt an enormous
compassion for every weed I had to pull. Some weeds talked back to me,
begging me to spare them, and in a great display of mercy, I let
them be.
Our afternoon tea
was served in the Park community room. This time I had a long
conversation with a German woman named Heidi, who confessed that during
our work selection session she was disappointed when I gave up the Park
kitchen job, which she was now doing with someone else and had hoped to
do with me. How could I not like her after that?
While the others
went to a full moon meditation, Andy and I took this opportunity to do
what we had wanted to do all along—stroll through the park near the
original caravan. I wanted to get a feel for where it all started, and
it surprised me that nobody else seemed interested or even knew much
about it. Hadn’t they read The Magic of Findhorn? I took many
pictures, and as I walked by the original caravan I swear I saw Eileen
Caddy sitting at a typewriter inside—but it may have been my
imagination!
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 |
Above: Relaxing on the grass after pulling weeds
Left: Some views of the original caravan.
Right: Posing with Heidi |
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After dinner we had
another session of sharing, which got quite heated when we all came down
on the focalizers and announced that we were holding back. We were
joined by my kitchen focalizer, Lewis, and two companions, after which
my new little social group of a few favorite women repaired to the
lounge for tea and late-night talking. We all admitted that having
several small groups to belong to had a dynamic effect—the regular
group, the work group, the sleeping group, the social group. These
single women, who were all in multiple-bed dorms, were experiencing yet
another layer that I—as a married woman alone in a room with a sleeping
husband—was missing out on, for they would go back and discuss their
various experiences again with each other and roommates from a
different Experience Week group before going to sleep.
THURSDAY August 8, 1985
I hadn’t really been
able to take a proper shower the whole time I’d been at Cluny, and now
it was Thursday. Every time I tried the water was either lukewarm or
cold . Luckily the weather was cool enough that we didn’t sweat too
much! I wondered how the permanent residents managed, and any fantasies
about moving in for a longer stay were squelched by the idea that we’d
never be able to take a proper bath.
At the attunement
session this morning I found myself looking forward to it. Now that we
were into our fourth day together I was beginning to know these people
and my bah-humbug attitude was being replaced by a spirit of
joyful participation.
Our lunch was
vegetarian hamburgers, after which we were set free for the afternoon.
Andy and I went into the town of Forres, changed money, bought a Timex
T-cell for my watch and wine some girls had asked us to bring back for
them. We had planned on going to a pub for a pint but felt so good after
four days of not drinking and being vegetarians that we agreed to skip
it altogether—but not until after we had ventured inside a smoky, noisy,
smelly pub and turned around. Instead we walked about the charming town
feeling clearheaded and healthy, congratulating each other for being
able to resist the temptation.
|
Some went in to town on the free afternoon and others just hung
around
 |
After walking back
up the hill through town we returned to our room for some reading and
fell asleep. I was woken up at five PM by Kathy from California calling
my name in the hall, wanting her bottle of wine.
In the sharing
session after dinner Heidi announced that her father was dying which
made me cry. Then we had a guided meditation during which Spencer lay in
the floor and made noises—very distracting.
Evening tea with
Elizabeth, Heidi, Christina, Michted and Andy. When you’re the only
woman with a husband, you have to be prepared to share him!
FRIDAY August 2, 1985
Up just in time for
work to put away the dishes for the last time together with Ulrike.
After lunch I was finally able to take a lukewarm bath, as tonight was
the Completion Session and everyone was planning to dress up. I had
nothing fancy with me, just jeans and two sweatshirts as we’ve been
backpacking, so I had to wear my same old clothes again. I probably
would have lied about his but my photos show me wearing the same pink
sweatshirt every day, even at the gala dinner!
In the afternoon
we’d had a Completion Session, which consisted of passing around a large
stone and each of us taking turns sharing our experience of the week. It
was very moving and everyone cried as we realized how much our coming
together simply to work and get to know each other had meant to all of
us. A quote from the Urantia Book was brought home to me: “You
cannot truly love your fellows by a mere act of the will. Love is only
born of thoroughgoing understanding of your neighbor’s motives and
sentiments. It is not so important to love all men today as it is that
each day you learn to love one more human being.”
At our special
dinner everyone in our group sat at the same long table and openly
passed around bottles of wine. This was the last little nudge to allow
us to feel that we were truly bonding. As we were laughing and talking I
looked around the table and realized that at some point I had connected
one-on-one and had found something to love about each and every one of
these people. I felt that our time was just beginning, that I would love
to spend much more time with them and get to know them even better—but
this was our last night.
|
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After dinner we
were shown a film on Auroville in India, another non-sectarian and
self-managed universal city-in-the-making with the goal of
sustaining itself on all levels. I was beginning to discover that
there was an enormous network of Light Workers on this planet and
felt blessed
to have found my way into this world of active New Age people. They
were not only talking about peace and harmony but actually
striving to make it a reality in their lives and in the world!
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L-R: me, Elizabeth, and ?. |
|
 Heidi
and Kathy |
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Andy joined us
tonight again for our last tea in the lounge. We all talked about maybe
coming back the following March for the “Learning to Love” workshop with
Eileen Caddy. Andy thought he might like to do a Guest Programme. Early
arrivals for the next Experience Week were beginning to come in, and we
welcomed an older lady who had just flown in from Australia. She arrived
too late for the front desk so we made her tea and helped her find her
room, then invited her to join us, and that made us feel good.
SATURDAY August 3, 1985
In retrospect, I
marvel at this community which is based on going within to seek God’s
will in dealing with everyday problems and situations. Looking back, I
don’t think I appreciated it at the time; I was still in a mode where I
believed that unless one read the Urantia Book, they couldn’t be
enlightened! But witnessing what has been happening in Findhorn has
helped me to understand how the First Garden of Eden could have been
built with volunteer labor. And the soil that was once being prepared
for plants is now becoming the soil that may one day receive a great
non-sectarian world teacher, and it is all being prepared by volunteers.
Findhorn is built on
such solid non-denominational foundations that it would be impossible
for a “dictator,” or particular book or religious sect or cult to arise
and take it over. It is simply based on living and sharing the Godly
life with each other and with those who are drawn to experience it, who
will then take a little bit of Findhorn back home to their own part of
the world and make it a better place. Recently I read that individuals
are being drawn to move into the nearby towns and villages around
Findhorn, and it reminded me of the following from one of Eileen Caddy's
books:, Foundations of Findhorn:
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“I want you to see this center of light as
an ever-growing cell of light. It started as a family group; it is
now a community; it will grow into a village, then a town, and
finally into a vast city of light.” |
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Opening Doors
Within is another sample of the pure teachings Eileen Caddy has
received. More of her books can be found online at:
http://www.findhorn.org/books
For the Findhorn website,
click here
For Findhorn FAQs
click here |
