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SCIENCE
pdf The Architecture of the Universe and the Urantia Book by Frederick L. Beckner  
pdf Stars, Galaxies, Superuniverses and the Urantia Book by Frederick L. Beckner  
pdf Monmatia Revisited
by Bill Laurune
 
Earth-Moon Evolution
by Dr. Phil Calabrese
A Tale of Two Orvontons
by Dick Bain
pdf Urantia, 606 of Satania
by Israel Dix
 
A.A. Zachow, Revelation Worker
and his article in Cosmic Frontiers, April 1977
archaeology  
Jesus the Boatbuilder and the Ancient Boat by Saskia Praamsma
pdf Ancient Cyprus
by Stefan Tallqvist
 
pdf India: Lost Cities Found
Compiled by Saskia Praamsma
 
pdf Did the Jews Really Not Bury Their Dead? by Charles Arterburn  
Atlantis/Urantia Book Parallels
by Robert Sarmast
pdf First Atlantis/Eden Expedition Analysis
by Commodore Robert Staney Bates
 
urantia community
Building a Temple to the Father
by Fred Harris
Celestial Nights 2003
at Cape San Blas
CN 2004 - A New Spirit of Unity
by Al Wolf
 
Celestial Nights 2008
at St. George Island
A Voice from the Garden
by Meredith Tenney
URANTIA outreach 
pdf Sowing Urantia Seeds in India
by Bhagavan Buritz
 
pdf The Dauntless Norman Ingram
(1999) by Saskia Raevouri
 
pdf Norman Ingram's Venice Beach Booth
by Richard Omura
 
pdf Outreach 2000
Various projects undertaken by readers
 
pdf The Revelation in Capetown
1999 Parliament of the World's Religions
 
Joys of Service - Urantia Book Prison Ministry by Joy Brandt (2003)
The Kenya Sewing Machine Project
by Meredith Tenney
Pipeline of Light
by Michelle Klimesh
South African Book Seeding Mission
Mark Bloomfield's reports
Here and Now
by Mark Bloomfield
A Letter of Gratitude from South Africa
by Simone Cox
India: The 2008 World Book Fair in Delhi
by Paula Thompson
Operation Reach Back
by Pamela Burr and Paula Thompson
Mission to Patagonia
by Pradhana Fuchs

 

Atacama Mission: "Seeding the Desert"
by Jon DeToy [2011]
Mission to South Africa
by Buck Weimer and Charlene Morrow
Mind, Body and Spirit Church of Tallahassee by Fred Harris
Pato Banton in Santa Fe NM 2009
by John Wilcox
Pato Banton's Outreach Ministry
The 2010 Cosmic Road Show
by Andrea Barnes
book reviews and articles   
The Amazing Gerdean Saskia Praamsma reports on The Zo'oid Mission
 pdf Birth of a Divine Revelation
reviewed by Matthew Rapaport
 
pdf Secondary Works - What Works?
by Saskia Raevouri
 
 Gardner, Moyer and Mullins: Three Histories by Matthew Rapaport  
pdf Secondary Works
Reviews and Descriptions, 2002
 
The Urantia Book and OAHSPE
compared by Harold Sherman
pdf Larry Mullins Reports
on The Sherman Diaries
 
Spirits of Promise
by GerdeanO'Dell
God's Orchestra
by Saskia Praamsma
teaching mission  
Correcting Time
by Fred Harris
online Welcome to Change
by Bob Slagle
The Second Revelatory Commission
Related Transcripts
spiritual travel  
Our Visit to Findhorn 1985
by Saskia Raevouri (1985)
go
Mediterranean Adventure 1998
with Joy Brandt and Saskia Raevouri (1998)
pdf A Visit to Russia
by Cathy Jones
 
Journeys to FreeSchools in India
A cause supported by Urantia Book readers
cartoons and more

OUR VISIT TO FINDHORN


EXCEPT FOR SOME feeble attempts at reading the Bible when I was younger, the Urantia Book was the first metaphysical book I ever read. This was in 1977, and it opened up my mind to a world of God, angels, purposeful and progressive evolution, and many other truths, facts, meanings and values I hadn’t been aware of before. Even plants took on new meaning, knowing that they were part of the grand scheme of things, the patterns designed by higher beings on other worlds and brought here for our use and adornment.

Once I became an insider to this new world, I began inquiring about other revelations that were taking place around the planet, other teachers and books, “centers of light,” Light Workers and of course, Findhorn—a community in the north of Scotland where people talked to plants and grew forty-pound cabbages in the sand. While my curiosity was aroused, somehow it didn’t sound realistic to me, so I didn't pursue it at the time .

In 1983 my then-husband Andy and I were camping on Moorea, an island in the South Pacific, reading every discarded English-language paperback we could find. One book was called The Magic of Findhorn, written in 1975 by Paul Hawken. It described how in 1962 Peter and Eileen Caddy and their friend Dorothy MacLean, discharged as managers of a four-star-hotel in the Scottish town of Forres, were forced to move with their three children into their holiday caravan in the nearby Findhorn Bay Caravan Park.

In 1953 Eileen had discovered that when there was a problem she could ask God a question and write down his answer, as simply as if God were dictating to her. And when she and Peter put this inner guidance into practice, and it was unfailingly the right solution, they both grew to depend on it, even to running the hotel in strict accordance with Eileen’s guidance.


Peter, Eileen and their children at Cluny Hill Hotel, 1960
 
Peter, Eileen and Dorothy at the caravan site circa 1962

The original caravan
 
Peter and Eileen Caddy

[photos copyright Findhorn Foundation]

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.

“See this center in its true perfection, filled with souls who are here simply to do My will and walk in My ways.”

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.

* * *

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.


Cluny Hill College


The entrance area


People were sitting around basking in the sun


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.

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 
 
The entrance to the Caravan Park 

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."

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!

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.


Michted

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

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!

SCENES FROM CULLERNE GARDENS
At left is the Findhorn Gardens
herb garden postcard.

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!

IN AND AROUND THE PARK

 
Above: Relaxing on the grass after pulling weeds 
Left: Some views of the original caravan.
Right: Posing with Heidi
 
 

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.

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!

 
L-R: me, Elizabeth, and ?.

Heidi and Kathy

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:

 “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.”  


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