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How do you end up at Findhorn?

  • Posted by Jonathan Dawson
  • 19 April 2007

Jonathan tells us the story of how he came to live in the world's most famous ecovillage Findhorn

So, how do people wind up at a place like this? Lots of reasons, really, generally embracing the political, the personal and the spiritual in ways that defy easy classification. As good a place to start as any is to describe my own journey here.

I spent the 15 years or so before arriving at Findhorn working as a development professional, living in Africa for most of the 1980s and then based in the UK, making regular visits as a consultant on community economic development. By the mid-1990s, I was beginning to get disillusioned and to feel lonely. Life lived out of suitcase, with precious little time between recovering from the last trip and preparing for the next one, was not fulfilling my need to belong within a supportive and caring community.

In parallel, the impact of economic globalisation made it progressively more difficult to truly believe in the effectiveness of the work I was engaged in. While the system was severing limbs, it seemed to me, we were dishing out Elastoplast.

I have had the privilege of working with numerous noble international and indigenous NGOs. Yet, rather than system change in favour of the poor, the marginalised and planet, it felt to me that we were increasingly being left to clean up the mess created by the distorted and destructive global economy.

Having reached the conclusion that the root of the global malaise lay in the North rather than in the South – in affluence rather than poverty – I started looking for ways of getting involved back here in Europe.

My first break with the conventional career I had followed up to then was to go and live with my girlfriend in a small community on the Dorset/Devon border called Monkton Wyld. I had a great year, learning how to milk cows, grow vegetables, keep bees and relearning the art of serious playfulness.

By the end of a year, however, while my soul and body were nourished, my brain was in meltdown. I left my relationship and the community, in the belief that intentional communities were cool and fun places that were keeping alive many of the labour-intensive skills we will need as we head into energy descent, but unable to provide the stimulation required by the intellectually curious and the politically engaged.

I remember arriving back in Oxford, moving back into a terraced house, feeling the sadness and isolation of everyone having their own little patch of lawn, their own little television set, their own ludicrously small pots and pans and stoves – these felt like they belonged in a doll’s house compared to the great hobs and pots we used to cook for 60 or more at Monkton. This felt like poverty of imagination on a grand scale after the communality I had experienced both in Dorset and in Africa.

Several years later, I found myself doing a course at Findhorn – how often has this story been told, of going for a week-end and ending up spending a lifetime?! A critical moment for me came when one of the residents started telling us about the work of Findhorn at the United Nations and in hosting Ecovillage Training Programmes that were bringing together activists from the global North and South. Another was when I attended one of the legendary Findhorn conferences not long after – Spirit in Education, it was called. It was unlike any other conference I had been to. Not only was the intellect respected and stimulated, but this was woven into a great festival of song, dance, meditation and beauty that truly nourished head, heart and hands. Wow, I thought – I want more of this!

So, now here I am, organising inspiring Findhorn conferences of my own – next up is Positive Energy: Creative Community Responses to Peak Oil and Climate Change in Easter 2008 that I have put together.

I do occasional shifts in the kitchen where we cook for up to 200, work in the gardens when I can get away from my desk, perform stories in our theatre or open mikes, teach on programmes and act as coordinator for the Global Ecovillage Network of Europe.

This is at the heart of what keeps and sustains me here. We are all multi-tasking, escaping the tyranny of one single profession. And while many of the residents here are apolitical, I have never lived with such a strong and dense cluster of world-workers and change-agents – working in the arts, politics, ecological restoration, peace and justice activism. It is a rich and vibrant mix.

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2 comments from readers

kpdavison
16 May 2007 at 04:01

O.k. I just wrote a comment on one of your other posts, but i am compelled to pipe up again! (so american, i know). I feel like you've depicted my whole life story. I was trained as a health psychologist, and i felt such a sense of futility trying to describe to people to "go within" or do deep breathing, when every waking moment was surrounded by shopping malls, minivans, fashion ads, and aggressive sports programs. I needed a lifestyle-ectomy! but I was raising kids, so did the soccer mom thing and meditated on my own, intellectually starving to death after completing the ph.d. All the folks around me thought i was "so nice," so my volunteer work was always pretty mundane stuff, like sorting coats for the poor, or translating for the homeless, or whatever. I kept wondering, is this my contribution? I mean, why have a mind, if you didn't really need it to begin with? I had done a degree in 3rd world economic development, with little use. Now i think we can all feel fairly certain that the best thing we could do for the 3rd world would be to get our corporations outta there.

Anyway, having grown up in a large family and doing group stuff as naturally as breathing, i feel that the hardest part of our affluent, private-cottage lifestyle is the isolation. And yet! I didn't want to be part of a community that was devoted to a particular charismatic leader's point of view. I didn't want to embrace an "ism" as license to enter. Or swear allegiance to the guru, or some such.

Now I do improv, consulting, nature stuff, and a patch of writing and speaking, but i don't resonate with my community that much. One more kid through college, then i will see what the world offers.

Great to hear your depictions of that storied land. thanks -kpd

onjsko
21 May 2007 at 16:19

KPD

Instead of putting that kid through college, why don't you bring him here to Findhorn? It may be what you both need.

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About the writer

Jonathan Dawson

Jonathan Dawson is a sustainability educator based at the Findhorn Foundation in Scotland. He is seeking to weave some of the wisdom accrued in 20 years of working in Africa into more sustainable and joyful ways of living here in Europe. Jonathan is also a gardener and a story-teller and is President of the Global Ecovillage Network.

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