I wrote this story in a collaborative bonanza with many community members(1) as a contribution to the GEN 30th Anniversary book (first edition) – GEN Europe which celebrates the phenomenal achievements of the Global Ecovillage Network which was founded here at Findhorn in 1995.

April 2021

For over fifty years, the Sanctuary at the Findhorn Community had been its spiritual heart; a small, homely shed where thousands of residents and visitors had gathered to pray and meditate daily. It was here that Eileen Caddy, one of the founders, meditated each morning. As the Community grew, the seemingly crazy idea that this was to be a centre of light for the world gradually became felt and visible.

Now, it was nothing more than a smouldering heap of wet, black ash. Nearby, the Community Centre, where meals had been shared and laughter had echoed through decades, had also been torched. That Spring morning, the sun rose on a scene of devastation. Steam curled into the air from a crater of charred timber and stone. The heart of the Findhorn Community was gone.

Community Centre fire aftermath 20210412 photo Lorenz Gramann

The fire was enormous. Five engines were called to the scene in the early hours. People woke up from loud bangs and engine noises. The bangs sounded like explosions. In fact, the main tree columns supporting the buildings were exploding, caused by the heat of the fire. Many simply stood there, shocked. It was a still, clear, starlit night, very cold. No wind stirred. Sparks from the burning buildings flew up and drifted slowly eastwards.

Park Ecovillage Findhorn after the fires 2021 photo Mark Richards

That the flames did not spread further was entirely due to the work of the firefighters, who were the heroes of the night.

Firefighters at the Community Centre photo Mark Richards Aurora Imaging

Nobody was physically harmed, but the psychological toll was vast. Trauma rippled through a community already threadbare from losses of recent years. Brexit had severed the international lifeblood of the Community, and COVID had ravaged its economic foundation. Staff were laid off. Programs were suspended. Visitors, once the heartbeat of the place, had disappeared. Now, with the fire, even the symbols of spiritual resilience had vanished. What followed was a collective reckoning.

Community Centre bench after the fire 2021 photo Mark Richards Aurora Imaging

January 2023

The Board of the Findhorn Foundation (FF), already navigating a storm of global and local upheaval, hired a new Chief Executive. His financial assessment was grim; the bank account was nearly empty. Hard decisions followed quickly. FF was restructured.

Assets were sold to generate immediate cash flow. FF was divided into two. One part became the Legacy Trust, intended for another purpose but in the end, used to dispose of its assets into the Community. Alongside, a new entity emerged, the FF SCIO, a Scottish Charitable Incorporated Organisation – to be dedicated to carrying forward the flame of spiritual education.

The new website COIF ‘Celebrating One Incredible Family’ was another outcome of the fires, as we asked ourselves ‘What are we going to do about this mess?’ One answer was clear: celebrate the 60th birthday, another – to create a platform to tell the history.

May 2023 to November 2024

Thrown into this existential crisis, the Community did not sit idle. A grass-roots initiative emerged from a huge outpouring of energy, galvanised by grief but grounded in vision. Ecovillage Findhorn Community Benefit Society (EF CBS) was born. 400 people joined. Bonds were issued. In a matter of months, £400,000 was raised, enough to purchase a third of the Foundation’s land and buildings. Fittingly, this was transacted and celebrated on the Community’s birthday. The “buy-in” included the Universal Hall and the Phoenix Café, two beloved gathering spaces, still pulsing with the spirit of community. Crucially, EF CBS promised full democratic community control for the first time ever, letting all voices count and encouraging everyone’s participation – a transformational step. Now the Community itself could take responsibility for decisions once held by a few.

Firebird Maria Craig

Amid the ashes, a phoenix story began to take shape. Film-maker Maria Craig had captured the history of the fires and devastation in her haunting and hopeful documentary, ‘Firebird’. Through poignant interviews and meditative visuals, she charted the Community’s heartbreak, fury, and gradual reawakening. The film did not shy away from loss. Despite not knowing what might happen next, it ultimately turned its gaze toward the future. And so did we.

Easter Sunday, 2025

Light of Findhorn Sanctuary inside photo Mark Richards

The opening of the Light of Findhorn Sanctuary was a big step forward. Funded through a mammoth fundraising effort, part miracle, part sheer will, it rose from the literal ashes of its predecessor. A white space, airy and calm, the new Sanctuary features high windows that open to birdsong and the rustling of cherry trees. On that first day, the branches outside were heavy with pink blooms like pompoms, the sky behind them a radiant blue. For a moment, it felt as if time had folded in on itself and that the spirit we
once knew had returned, clothed in light and clarity.

Yet, rebuilding a building is far easier than rebuilding trust.

In the months that followed, the Community embarked on a different kind of renovation, a soul-level one. We started to deal with what had long been hidden: our collective grief, trauma, unspoken judgments, power struggles and unresolved projections. A process of deep introspection unfolded, not without tension. We started to look under the carpet in this period, but much remains to be confronted and resolved if we are to go forward as a cohesive, coherent, healthy community. There needs to also be a focus on the Community’s shadow which includes issues of trust, access, polarisation and power.

September 2025

As the dust begins to settle, we are left standing on a magical carpet of our shared history, worn, yes, but ready to lift us in new directions. Things have shifted.

Two major shifts are political (how we self-govern) and economic.

For years, the Community was led by the Findhorn Foundation. Now there are different voices leading the way through direct democracy of members and the diversity of organisations collaborating. The rich tapestry of enterprises and services beyond FF (social finance, food growers, housing providers, bakers, educators, artists, shops, conservation charities, care circles, social/cultural associations) has come more clearly into view – multi-coloured threads woven into the fabric of a living economy and democracy.

At Ekopia’s Enterprise Fair, showcasing over 60 enterprises from in and around the Community, we saw this clearly, perhaps for the first time: not just residents or seekers, but empowered participants in a shared future.

Enterprise Fair Opening photo Mark Richards Aurora Imaging

The fire has taken much. But it has also revealed what remains; not just the land, not just the bones of the place, but the people and the practices that endure. Meditation still happens at dawn. Meals are still shared. Beautiful communal events are still created. The wind still moves through the gorse, and the sea still sings its steady rhythm beyond the dunes. We are no longer who we were. But something different is being born. And perhaps this is what regeneration looks like. Not a return to the old, but a becoming of the new.

The community based at the Park Ecovillage Findhorn is embarking on a sustainable and dynamic future. It has many planetary networks linked to its various ventures, not only GEN, which was born here at the Universal Hall in 1995.

Daily, via social media and zoom, the guidance of Eileen Caddy is beamed out with her words and a meditation that links people who are still drawn to this flame. All this is archived in the you tube channel to be seen again in asynchronous time. People who join enter a global community of connection, based on the words and silent space that enfolds them in a deep peace.

Anybody, anywhere, at any time, can tune into the stream of spiritual nourishment that emanates from what was always intended to be not just a centre, but a network of light.

On a personal note:

My first introduction to GEN happened when Kosha Joubert came to Findhorn and dynamically transmitted her joy and passion for GEN through presentations to the Community, as president of GEN International. I woke up to the revelation that we were part of something bigger, and I delighted in the alignment of my inner world with this planetary network. My meditations had shown me a picture of a cracked desert being transformed into a vibrant carpet of green. Now I saw that GEN was one of the ways this could happen for real.

In 2014, as a councillor of our Community Association (NFA), I noticed there was nobody from the Findhorn Foundation Community attending the annual GEN Gathering, even though Kosha and her husband Robin Alfred, a Findhorn Fellow, were leading it. So I chose to attend on behalf of the Community and that experience was dazzling on all levels of my being. Since then, I served as a GEN ambassador in China and at many events and conferences globally.

In 2020, I returned from China to hunker down at Findhorn during the pandemic lockdown. The weather was unusually perfect and I rested deeply in daily walks and cycles through the pristine landscape in warm Spring sunshine.

During this period, unknown to me, the forces that were creating havoc in the world began to wreak their effects on our community. Isolation, contrasting perspectives on what was happening and why, financial impacts and distrust of leaders, all exacerbated by social media, were the main factors in shredding the cohesion of the Community.

Ultimately, all the co-workers who had devoted their lives to a common purpose lost their jobs, and many as a result lost their homes and had to leave the country. In a fury, one co-worker lit the fires that destroyed the main sanctuary and community centre. That morning, I received a text that brought me and many others to the scene and held me in a spell of silence as we surveyed the wreckage. Despite what I witnessed, I felt within my body the words of Eileen: ‘All is very, very well.’

Where next? That question hangs in the air, unanswered but alive. We stand on a blank page, cautious yet not entirely despairing. Slowly, fragments are beginning to land. Ideas, like puzzle pieces, arrive in awkward, jagged shapes, imperfect, but enough to begin a new picture. The fog has not lifted, but here and there, silhouettes are beginning to form.

‘Expect a miracle.’

Expect a Miracle photo Geoff Dalglish

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(1) Appreciations to my collaborators: Rupert Davis, Hans Bracker, Yvonne Cuneo, Niki Lewin, Eva Ward, Ann McEllin, Sharon Took-Zozaya, David Harrison, Cornelia Featherstone, Christine Lines, Sue Clutterbuck and Fabien Barouch
With special thanks to Pupak Haghighi and Alan Watson Featherstone for providing the space in the wilderness to collate this story.

Dorota Owen

Mother of 3 ( Anya, Rose, Michael ) who were raised in the Community from 2003 onwards. Teacher, speaker, GEN Ambassador, Interfaith Minister and Director of Newbold Trust and Kalikalos Holistic Centre in Greece.