Day 23. May 4. Wednesday

(I think I got off by a day somewhere in there). Findhorn may not be the truly magical place I envisioned with little gnomes running around in the lush Ireland-like woods (even though it’s Scotland) amid emerald-green moss and shamrocks, but it is really interesting place, and I’m very glad I came.

Thanks to Jane’s guidance, this morning I attended an early morning sacred singing session—Taize and Cantiones—held in a beautiful, small round room in a nature center. It became clear to me where early American Sacred Harp and Shape Note singing came from, with which I am familiar because at one time my ex-wife and daughter sang in such a group that toured Italy and Hungary, and my son and I tagged along. Here in this round room their precise 4-part harmony singing filled me.

Then I walked to another nice, rustic, peaceful room for a group 20-minute silent meditation. The peacefulness was palpable.

Findhorn is a community psychologist’s dream. When it began it was never even meant to be a community, but when word got out that its garden was producing inordinately large, delicious vegetables, people came.

At first it was ruled with a semi-iron hand—if you were going to come you had to work and attend three hour-long meditation sessions a day, or leave. Within those meditations the woman in the initial founding couple received spiritual guidance, which called the shots for a lot of what the community did. Over time this community had to figure out its governance structure, how to deal with problem issues that arose, what kind of buildings were permissible, how tasks would be divided up. Fascinating. Apparently, at first the community attracted young hippie-types average age about 25; now the average age is about 55. One can tell by observation that some there are wholly committed to living off the land in the most environmentally conscious way possible; others have come around because they have difficulty making it in typical society; others just like the semi-communal life; some are hard workers; some hangers-on. But all contribute to what Findhorn is today, and it has grown rather large! I walked around the woods for an hour and browsed around in their real nice Foundation Park store.

I hopped on the train, which routed me to Inverness, where I had an hour and a half layover. It gave me a chance to wander around Inverness a bit, which I was happy to do. New territory. The mountains in the distance looked beautiful. Some of the land in mid-northern Scotland reminds me of Vermont. I feel almost at home. But it is too cold for the beginning of May. Got in some good writing time on my book for a few hours—luxury! I really miss doing that, and I have to get back to it! Too many distractions!