THE ROAD TO FINDHORN

 

Summer 1995, I was driving along a narrow upland road in the English Pennines: life was not kind – I had just taken my nine-year-old back to her father’s home after her summer with me. I felt completely alone, full of pain and hurt. Suddenly I was aware of a car coming towards me on the wrong side of the road. I swerved off into the ditch – there was a high wall which I missed by a fraction. Shaken and trembling, I got out. The engine was running and I was alive after all. The tape in the car stereo was still playing – So I’m sitting in my bedroom Overlooking Findhorn Bay Cluny Hill in the distance . . . Living one step at a time. Putting one foot in front of the other . . . My road atlas was in the boot of the car. Where was Findhorn? And Cluny Hill? And what was Mrs Caddy’s book? That’s how my love affair, my healing love affair, with Findhorn began. Summers camping in The Park, winter days at Minton House, exploring the Foundation, Experience Week, daughter, granddaughter . . . so it continues.

Pat Ellison