I wish to express my gratitude to California State University, Fresno, for giving me a sabbatical in the Spring of 1977 making this research possible.

To the community of Findhorn, I express thanks for their cooperation in this endeavor–and for a wonderful three weeks there. I feel some need to apologize for the complicated analysis which follows, for it tends to piecemeal the wholistic, integrated and well-tuned phenomenon of Findhorn.

W. I. Thompson has observed that academic methodology can so break down a problem, the whole picture can no longer be seen–as he says we” … could pluck hairs from the face of terror and never have to look it in the eye” (Thompson, 1975; 13-14). However, despite all the cutting involved in open heart surgery, if performed with a careful professional passion and gentle hands the procedure can be life enhancing. Hopefully my analysis of Findhorn is of this order.

From the British Isles have come the visionary tales of Camelot and Brigadoon–heavenly places come to earth, where peace and love rule the well-leisured hours and man and nature coexist in a state of blissful harmony guaranteed to titillate even the mind most caught up in the ennui at the tail end of the 70’s. And, as if this were not enough, from the land of ancient druids comes now a tale supposedly true of another community less poetically named, yet if some accounts are to be believed a real down-to-earth synthesis of utopian notions. For example, Paul Hawken, in his book The Magic of Findhorn, writes

There have been stories in the press and other media about a small community in the north of Scotland called Findhorn where people talk to plants with amazing results–stories of vegetable and flower gardens animated by angelic forms where Pan’s pipes are heard in the winds–stories of plants performing incredible feats of growth and endurance: forty-pound cabbages, eight-feet delphiniums, and roses blooming in the snow–all a short distance from the arctic circle-­ Don Juan and Tolkien combined, where the elemental world of plants and animals cooperate with fairies, elves, and gnomes in creating land where nothing is impossible and legends are reborn; people heard talking to plants and angels in a casual and informal way, creating a garden of Eden where only gorse bushes and spikey grass grew before; a cold, wind-blown peninsula jetting into the North Sea with soil ascending worthless as your local beach; a community said to be run and operated under messages and guidance received from God through Eileen Caddy, the wife of its founder, Peter Caddy.

With those sketchy and unbelievable tales, I left America for Scotland to search out the Findhorn Gardens. What I found seems larger than a forty-pound cabbage. Fairies and elves seem tame stuff compared to what one experiences there. Findhorn may be a manifestation of a light and power which could transform our planet within a lifetime, or it could be an illusory bubble on the troubled waters of world civilization that will burst, leaving no traces. A born skeptic, I can appreciate that much of what you will read will seem implausible and incredible. I do not ask that you believe this account, for it is written only through one man’s eyes. Every aspect of creation has as many realities as perspectives. The fullness of an Autumn moon through a million pairs of eyes is then a million different moons, while remaining but a single moon. And so it is with Findhorn. Peter Caddy has said: ‘You can not describe Findhorn; people must experience it themselves in order to understand it’ (Hawken, 1975:7)

In a more scientific vein, British psychologist Philip Abrams, concluded after a study of a number of British comunes, that Findhorn did not fit any of their six typologies; however, he included a brief discussion of their trip to Findhorn,

.. partly because there is something irreducibly baffling about Findhorn, at least from our own rationalistic point of view, and our own inability to master it; while itself of academic interest, it goes some way to secure the validity of communal lives from erosions of social science (Abrams, 1976:51).

My first acquaintance with Findhorn was through a reading of Hawken’s book; I was frankly intrigued by this story of “The Magic of Findhorn,” and as a social psychologist I was expressly interested in studying the nature of the social bonds of the community–a question central to Emile Durkheim’s works of almost a century ago–and since then, of fundamental concern to sociologists. The question of social bonds and group solidarity for me, was closely connected with other questions; for example, I was also curious about the kinds of people drawn to Findhorn, the screening process, the type of leadership and decision making processes, membership turnover, their collective and individual definition of reality and other related individual and group dynamics which I hoped would yield a more social psychological understanding of an intentional community heavily overlaid by stories of magic. The following account then, is an attempt to understand the internal dynamics of Findhorn.

Geographically, Findhorn is located about 30 miles east of Inverness in northern Scotland. The community in May, 1977 at the time of my study had 250 members living on two campuses–one being the original caravan (trailer) park, the site of the beginnings of the community in 1962, the other a large older and gracious hotel, the Cluny Hotel, acquired in 1975. At the caravan park, most members lived in trailers while others lived in more permanent buildings. Trailers belonging to community members were mixed randomly with trailers belonging to non-community people who were leasing spaces (as do the Findhorn people)–an interesting and neighborly blending of Findhorn and the outside world, and quite symbolic of their general posture in this regard. At the Cluny Hotel members shared rooms, with a number of rooms left for their vigorous guest program.

Findhorn was officially started in 1962 by Peter and Eileen Caddy at the edge of a garbage site at the Findhorn Trailer Park–a very unpoetic beginning for a group later to be heralded in the most poetic terms. From 1962 to 1970 marks what I felt was the first of three logical historical periods in the life of the community. During this time the community grew very slowly from the Caddy family and a few close friends until 1970 when it consisted of only about two dozen members (Hawken, 1975). During this period the community was governed in what reportedly was an authoritarian fashion, by the powerful and charismatic founders Peter and Eileen Caddy.

Also, during the period Findhorn was becoming known for its marvelous gardens. The gardens were the center of the community, nurtured not only by the vast physical energy poured into them, but also intimately tied up with their emerging spiritual philosophy–for it was (and is) the profound belief of most members that nature spirits–devas, fairies and elves–were cooperating with humans in establishing a new Garden of Eden in the north. During this time, or shortly after, several publications printed articles on the gardens, including Harpers magazine. In addition recognized horticultural experts in England and Scotland visited Findhorn, confirming the splendor of the gardens, (if not agreeing with the explanation offered) (Hawken, 1975). BBC became interested and eventually produced four TV programs, one being a one-hour live broadcast from Findhorn. Needless to say Findhorn was on the map and ready for a period of accelerated growth.

What I see as the second historical period in the story of Findhorn, a time of rapidly increasing membership and growth, began in 1970 with the arrival of David Spangler, a youthful teacher, visionary and prophet from the U.S.A. When Spangler arrived in 1970 there were only about two dozen members; when he left in 1973 there were over 170 (Hawken, 1975). With most of the new members being more youthful than the founders, the community experienced an explosion of creativity during this time: photography, outdoor construction, weaving, pottery, graphic arts, drama, candle-making and other activities were started. Music and printing became important tools of outreach, spreading the story of Findhorn to the rest of the world. During this period a very basic change occurred: the garden came to occupy a secondary role within the community and a lively interest in the spiritual growth of people became primary. I believe it is fair to say that the planet is now seen as a large garden, with people as the plants requiring love and nurturance. From this period on, the gardens occupy a more historical and symbolic role in the community.[1]

In 1975, the community wrestled with one of the biggest decisions they ever faced–whether or not to expand by purchasing the Cluny Hotel (located about 4 miles from the original campus). Their decision to purchase the hotel begins what I see as the third epoch in their story–a time of continued expansion, especially in terms of campus size and physical plant. Perhaps, more significantly, acquisition of the Cluny Hotel led to a clearer definition of their new role in the world, that of education. Thus the Cluny Hotel was soon seen as a College of Light, with its function gravitating around education. The students were to be people from all over the world who came as part of their guest programs–a few of whom would stay, with the majority returning home to share what they had learned. Thus, the extension of the physical plant was accompanied by an extension of the educational and teaching role of the community, which combined, led to a large increase in the guest program.

That their educational and outreach program is a success can scarcely be doubted if sheer numbers of people are used as a criteria. My estimate of the number of people with some knowledge of Findhorn is at least 20,000,000 (and it might be twice this figure). This estimate is based on the following observations: the B.B.C. TV stations have done four programs on Findhorn– one a live one-hour show. In addition the community has been the subject of several films, some of which have been distributed, (sold and rented) both in Europe and the U.S.A. The community has been written about in a number of books and magazines–both British and American, including Harpers and New Age (U.S.A.). Paul Hawken’s book was published in 1975 in both England and U.S.A. and then in 1976 by a different American Company (Hawken, 1975). Findhorn was the subject of one chapter in William I. Thompson’s book Passages About Earth, published by a major house in the U.S.A. and Great Britain (Thompson, 1974). Rigby, in a study of many communes in Britain states that Findhorn is “…. . the best known British communal project,” and notes it has had a great impact on the community movement as a whole, in that many have passed through Findhorn and taken ideas home (Rigby, 1974). Beyond these reports by outsiders, there are the vigorous promotional efforts by the community itself in the form of numerous books, tapes, slides, pamphlets, and brochures most of which are produced in their top quality sound and press departments. In addition, during the last several years the community has had members traveling throughout the world, consisting of either their musical group or various speaking groups. The Caddys, for example, spend much of each year visiting most continents. A search of the files of the community revealed they had established relationships with over 1,000 other groups and organizations around the world. Finally their active guest program averages about eighty visitors per week during the summer, with special conferences during the rest of the year. I cite the above observations to underscore the sociological significance of the global impact of this small community-­ unrivaled, I believe, by Synanon, Twin Oaks and Onedia (essentially American phenomena).[2] Explaining the widespread impact of Findhorn is a sociological phenomenon crying for an answer: sects and cults are known to have short lives, while Findhorn seems to thrive with age. Later I attempt to answer this question.

An additional observation confirming the size and stability of Findhorn, is their annual budget, which at the time of my study was about $850,000 per year. Approximately one-third of this is derived from the busy guest program (most of which occurs in the summer months), approximately one-third of their budget comes from donations from all over the world (over half of which comes from the U.S.A.), and finally the approximate remaining third of their economic support comes from their community products–books, tapes, records, brochures, pottery, candles and cloth materials. Clearly, the community is economically dependent on outsiders–present and former members, guests past and present, and those who have heard about Findhorn in other ways. Findhorn sees its chief export as mental and spiritual in nature–a type of consciousness, and to the extent they convince outsiders to give support and help they are demonstrably producing an internationally marketable product.

In March of 1977 when I conducted my study, the officially listed size of the community was 257: 119 females, 102 males and 36 children. My search of the files revealed 254 members: 116 females, 101 males, and 37 children. The average age was 29 with age groupings broken down as follows:

0-10 24 members                  50-60 14 members
10-20 15 members                60-70 8 members
20-30 87 members                70-80 11 members
30-40 69 members                TOTAL 248 members
40-50 20 members

The records indicate that over the past few years the over-30 group has been increasing more rapidly than earlier, and because this age group seems to stay longer this should add to the stability of the community. The age group with the lowest turnover is the over-50 group. Only six “old timers” have been in the community longer than nine years–two of these being the Caddys. As nearly as I could tell (from their sometimes incomplete and sketchy files) about 85% of the members are single. Almost exclusively the members at that time were caucasoid and typically of upper-working or middle class origins, with an important minority having college degrees. Religiously, members ranged the gamut from organized to agnostic to the conservative Church of Scotland. When interviewed, one member professed to be athiestic and pointed out that he had to state he was religious to gain admittance. (One of the screening criteria is that a person have a sincere personal spiritual commitment and quest, whatever formal religion this commitment may or may not be tied to.)
One hundred two members listed England as their country of citizenship, 89 listed U.S.A., 14 Canada, 12 Scotland, 15 either Australia or New Zealand, 7 Holland, 3 Belgium, 3 South Africa, and 1 or 2 from each of the following: France, Switzerland, Germany, Norway, Denmark, South America, Middle East and Rhodesia. In summary, Findhorn is demographically a solidly white, basically middle-class community of single people in their late 20’s, with a somewhat equal balance of females and males, the majority of whom are English or American, with a small internationally mixed minority.

Given the above brief description of the geography, history, economics and demographics, before discussion and analysis of the social psychological variables, it is important to discuss my methodology and bias. I hold the belief that complete subjectivity and objectivity are equally utopian dreams, hence unreachable in real life. It is my experience of life that those who most profess to be objective are often the most glued in the personal and subjective. The converse seems often equally true.[3] I hold what is likely a widely shared belief–namely that some methods are more objective than others and that there are no “facts” apart from some perception, emotion and value investment by a human observer. As Weil points out, the problem of seeming objectivity is most serious in those cases where it appears to be absent (Weil, 1972:5). He goes on to convincingly demonstrate how government and academic drug researchers allowed their unrecognized biases to seriously contaminate findings-­ even though the research purported to be “true,” “empirical,” “statistical,” “factual” etc. Further, he reminds us that early scientists consciously became personally involved in their projects, gaining first-hand knowledge while engaging in meticulous self-observation (Weil, 1972:12). Weil used this method in his study of mind altering drugs (trying them himself as one phase of the study), and produced one of the few complete and accurate studies on the relationship of mind, behavior and drugs–a study done in the late sixties and early seventies, yet one which increasingly receives support as data accumulates. In keeping with Weil I believe that personal involvement, self observation and awareness open the doors to accurate understanding (while remaining objectively aloof and distant limits understanding). In my study I tried as much as possible to experience Findhorn from the view of its members.

I lived at Findhorn for almost 3 weeks as a participant-observer, sleeping, eating, and working there. During this time I talked with and interviewed many of the members, some informally (while working for example) some more formally, taking notes etc. and asking prearranged questions. In addition, as a guest I was enrolled in the regular morning classes, during which time much information was imparted regarding the community, via lectures, readings, discussions and films. I also had free access to their files and resource center. Beyond this I read a number of their books and brochures, as well as the brief studies by other visiting scientists. In some cases interviewees knew I was a sociologist in other cases they did not.

My interest in studying the community was in trying to scientifically understand the factors which would explain the success of Findhorn. I was especially interested in understanding the members’ view of their community-­ the attitudes, values, feelings and sense of meaning they projected into and received from that spot that is forever Scotland. Their “mind set” and “world view” were important social-psychological foci in keeping with my affinity for phenomenology and symbolic-interaction–or what Thomas Holt has referred to as “new, reflexive, radical, existential, evaluative .. humanistic .. ” sociology (Hoult, 1974:74). Thus, for example, in regard to the existence and reality of the widely heralded devas, fairies, and elves, I accepted as one type of legitimate reality, the experience some of the members had with these entities. In other words, I assumed members were typically not joshing or fabricating these stories any more than would a sociologist writing a journal article.[4]

A basic intention I had was to understand the meaning and function of mythological creatures for members and for the overall community and their pattern of meaning (just as we might try to comprehend the mythological role of journal articles in the overall meaning and social structure of social science). Apart from some seemingly unavoidable and affectionate teasing, I made no attempt to debunk the beliefs of those members who believed in the secularity of fairies, nor did they try to weaken my beliefs in the sacredness of science. I did however try to check verbal statements with statements from others, and against other kinds of data; for example I asked the personnel office how many members were in the community and also looked through the files. Where possible I checked the files against members’ statements.

There were some problems of a methodological nature, which I feel it is important to mention: (1) I quickly learned that Findhorn, unlike General Motors, does not have a spokesman. Findhorn is its members and each person sees the community in a somewhat individualistic way, with some perceptions being very personalistic and unique; thus the community emerges as a composite of the views and perceptions of members. For this reason, and because of the general eclectic nature of the community, it was difficult to assign it to one framework or conceptual model. (2) I learned quickly that as much as anything I was studying a state of consciousness existing within each person and in the relationship members had with each other. Their collective world view is very complex and subtle and is elaborated upon in the rather voluminous literature emerging from the community. (3) The community is extremely flexible and changing. One of Findhorn’s chief theoreticians,in a complex lecture of almost two hours, (complete with colored charts, overlays, slides, etc.) stated that it is impossible for a conceptualization to keep up with the rapid changes in the internal dynamics of the community; he believed his models were already part of the many historical stages through which Findhorn had passed. (4) Finally, the community did not have a very complete system of records and files, thus much information was difficult to obtain and could only be gathered by word of mouth.

Before going on to analysis of a more sociological nature, a brief summary of the belief system of Findhorn is necessary in understanding the community.

Findhorn received much of its attention during the period 1966 to 1972 because of the lush gardens and the strong belief that the gardens were the result of following clear orders from fairies or devas (a Hindu word meaning spirit of light) (Hawken, 1976:121). Even earlier than this, going back to the early 1950’s and 60’s, Eileen Caddy had been hearing what she believed was the voice of God giving her explicit directions as to the founding of the community (Hawken, 1976). Her vision and voices came to her in meditation beginning in the chapel at the cathedral in Glastonbury, and later in long morning vigils in the public toilet at Findhorn Trailer Park (even in the cold nights and early mornings of the Scottish winters). (She meditated in the women’s toilet because it was the only place where solitude was available, and because the voice she defined as God’s told her to go there for meditation-­ perhaps either reason for going there being sufficient in itself.)

Peter Caddy’s role was to act on the messages received through Eileen, a task for which his energy seemed well suited (Hawken, 1976:76-112). Dorothy Maclean, Peter Caddy’s secretary when he was in the business world, came the first spring (1963) at the trailer park, and soon began to hear messages from nature spirits as clear and precise as those Eileen was hearing from God (Hawken, 1976:130). The nature spirits gave messages regarding the garden, messages Peter insisted be acted upon. As examples from the diary of Dorothy Maclean, are the following: “the first lot was sown too deeply and before the forces in the garden were great enough” (Hawken, 1976:121). This entry from a tomato deva: “It is shivery for them, but we shall try to protect. You can give them liquid manure now. Leave the wind break on for now until the fruit is somewhat formed.” “…. the plants will have to be wider apart than they are at the moment.” (This from a spinach deva.) Over the entire garden presided the Landscape Angel, who also delivered many messages to Dorothy, as an example: “the sooner you turn the compost, the sooner it will be ready. We should like some sunshine, but the plants are coming along well. It is good for any of you to come and admire us–it adds to our well being” (Hawken, 1976:118-125). For Dorothy the devas were archetypal thoughts or energies; later the Findhorn community came to see matter as energy. (Money for example is seen as a type of energy and can be used in many positive or negative ways.)

I cite these examples to give a flavor of the first unorthodox phase in the history of Findhorn, and to show the rather specific quality of the messages from the nature spirits and perhaps even more surprising the practical results of the messages as they were acted upon.

In 1966 Robert Ogilvie Crombie (“ROC”) came to Findhorn. Crombie was a seventy-five year old scholar who not only heard the voices of nature spirits but also was able to see them (Hawken, 1976:132). Later others at Findhorn would either hear or see (or both) the various nature spirits.

With the era of David Spangler (1970-73) a new visionary voice was introduced, only Spangler’s messages, received in meditation or trance-like states, centered around the role of individual and community in the new age coming to mankind (Hawken, 1976:185-202). Undoubtedly, Spangler’s influence helped move the community from an interest in gardens to a much more active interest in people and related issues.

Two basic observations need to be made regarding the overly brief account given above: firstly, Findhorn rests solidly on the prophetic and visionary qualities of its early charismatic leaders. Secondly, the era of charismatic leaders seems to come to an end with the departure of Spangler in 1973. I number in this group of visionary, charismatic leaders Peter and Eileen Caddy, Dorothy Mclean, Roc Crombie, David Spangler and possibly Sir George Trevelyan.[5]

What can be concluded about the visions and voices? I have concluded the evidence is overwhelming that these individuals were hearing and seeing the phenomena they reported (that is they were not individually or collectively making up or falsifying such experiences) and that such experience may be called Positive Paranoia (Cooper, 1971), in that when acted upon the effects seemed indisputedly positive for those people involved. There seems to be little argument as to whether such experience is “normal”; most of us would agree it is not. How to conceptualize and understand the phenomena is the issue around which endless debates flourish. I use the concept of “positive deviance” as one way of understanding such phenomena (McLeod, 1972).

As stated earlier the philosophy and world view of Findhorn is very complex and refined, occupying several published books and brochures. In addition, their belief system is in a continual state of growth and modification, due largely to the activities of certain of their well-educated members who expound their creed with much enthusiasm and conviction. The summary which follows is intended only to give the most basic view of what they believe, and does not purport to be complete (or even accurate in all details). The summary is taken from conversations with community members, and from published materials by both members and outsiders.

Findhorn sees itself as a “new age” community; the new age began when our planet moved on its axis into a new alignment with other heavenly bodies (as it does about twelve times every 26,000 years). Because of the new position of the earth, Spangler for example, believes, “it is not far fetched to assume that such changes may bring about the exposure of earth … to different energies from the cosmos” (Spangler, 1974:10). We have entered a period of time when the evolution of human consciousness is greatly accelerated and revelation is possible. Revelation is thought which is free from the confines of time and space, and this kind of loving-intuitive thought is the logical unfolding of evolutionary processes grounded in the entire solar system (Spangler, 1974:1-20). Ultimately, evolution is grounded in a universal, divine consciousness, called by various names through history and manifested in the lives of high spiritual humans (such as Christ, Buddha, etc.). The Christ spirit has appeared several times in history and not just in Jesus the founder of Christianity. Consciousness unites all living things, and in our new age it is easier for man to communicate with each other, with the divine and with nature spirits. Thus all physical forms are a manifestation of some underlying energy and consciousness; even mechanical creations have energy fields which if understood enable man to work more efficiently and lovingly with machines.[6] The process of entering into a deep understanding with an energy field other than one’s own is called attunement. Being so attuned to God and other persons is a high daily priority in the community, with attunement to nature and mechanical forms important but secondary. A typical group discussion or work session begins with everyone holding hands and having a moment of silent meditation, i.e. “attunement” (or what a few members irreverently called “getting a buzz”).

While man through history has most often sought God “out-there”, in the new age the location of God is more within each person. Discovering one’s own divine nature and revering it in self and others is an important spiritual quest in the community. If individuals are divine energy packaged in physical forms, self-discovery and awareness increases awareness of God–and this awareness is sought in meditation, work, and relationship with others. As each person discovers the divine within, each becomes his own best leader and guide (a belief which helps us understand the complex authority system discussed later).

Even though evolution is occurring it is not only because of an outer force, but also through and partially because of human intelligence. In other words there is “…no definite blueprint for …the new age… at least not yet” (Spangler, 1974:3). Life emerges from moment to moment, moving to an important degree in the direction channeled by our state of consciousness. We are part of the blueprint, and to pretend we are helpless pawns moved by the great invisible hand is to default on our birthright as co-creators–something we cannot afford to do. Translated into daily living the effect of this is to create a very present-time orientation–an emphasis on living in the now rather than the past or future.

Many of the community members also believe the earth is crisscrossed with energy lines and patterns–called “ley-lines”–and that where these lines intersect–called power points–extra portions of energy are available to the consciousness of man. Historically, it is pointed out, the Druids, Celts and other mystical peoples knew about power points and established dwellings, cathedrals, shrines, monuments, etc. at these critical points on the ley lines. Findhorn is believed to be on such a point–one of three points constituting a sacred triangle with the ancient places of Iona and Glastonbury Cathedral. A smaller triangle is constituted by Findhorn, Pluscarden Priory (a home for Catholic monks) and Cluny Hill (an area with a radius of perhaps twenty miles) (Thompson, 1975:166). Findhorn maintains intimate relations with all these places for obvious reasons.[7]

When Findhorn reflects on itself, as it often does in a highly self­ conscious way, it sees itself as a living, organic entity mysteriously more than the sum of its parts. As a healthy organism it has its own consciousness, perhaps linked to the general overseer (the angel of Findhorn) who carefully screens out those potential members who will not aid its growth. For those who enter and later prove a negative force, the organism “grinds them up and spits them out”–as a few members expressed it. The living entity that is the community is in synchronization with the members, and together they pass through various cycles and growth stages. The central function of the community is to export the new consciousness or as some members said, “to rewire the planet.” However, in this task their posture is not really crusading or evangelical; they are more passive and rely more on waiting for people to come there.

If the community is lacking a resource, they will meet the need by the law of manifestation–an act of attunement that produces the material object or other resource needed to further the overall growth or needs of an individual. As in Camelot there are no accidents of Findhorn: everything that happens is a necessary part of the overall plan of evolving consciousness. The important thing is to be attuned and learn from those events which at first glance may be wrongly seen as “accidental.”

Unlike many religious groups, Findhorn is very non-judgmental; love and empathy are the essence and practice of their day to day consciousness; their mode of operation is to present the truth as they see it, and not to quarrel with anyone who disagrees. As I experienced the community, they come as close to practicing what Carl Rogers calls unconditional positive regard as any group I’ve seen (Rogers, 1970). As mentioned earlier, there are within the community members of many official religious backgrounds and affiliations, as well as those without any formal ties to an organized faith.[8]

The two sanctuaries (one at the trailer location, the other at the Cluny Hotel) serve as places for silent meditation. At the time I was there, there were two times for morning meditation, and one at night. The sanctuaries are carpeted and removal of one’s shoes is customary before entering. For latecomers a red light at the door assures those inside of uninterrupted silence. Often at some point early in the meditation one person would read a brief poem or make a statement of a spiritual sort. Other than this, meditation was fifteen to thirty minutes of silence. During meditation some individuals manifested R.E.M.’s, suggesting they had entered a dream-like state. Other than this time of group meditation, the community did not have systematic religious ceremonies; clearly meditation was the heart of their collective religious expression. In keeping with their affinity with nature, a lily was the centerpiece of each sanctuary.

Finally, the community unlike many religiously based groups, does not relish or practice deprivation, suffering, condemnation and the like. Quite the opposite is true; their food is abundant, wholesome and vegetarian (with over twenty varieties of fruits, nuts or vegetables available at lunch and dinner). Their physical facilities range from adequate to old-luxurious (the solid oak panelled walls of the Cluny dining or reading lounge, for example). The community has a doctrine of optimism and joy and they believe in treating themselves to comfort, relaxation and fun. Members coming to sanctuary early in the morning bring heavy woolen blankets as holy shrouds against the highland chills and meditation doesn’t begin until the body is warm and comfortable. The rule seems to be: first needs are met first.

Much else could be said about the belief system of Findhorn and its translation into daily operation; the above is meant only to give a sense of their community–other descriptive details come either later or not at all. One last observation about their complex, extensive and ever-changing belief system is in order; whatever its match or mismatch to our western experience of empirical reality, I spent several hours scrutinizing their model for internal consistency.[9] My conclusion was that their beliefs, as varied as their authors are, have a very high degree of internal consistency; that is there seem to be few internal, logical contradictions within their written works.

***

[9]One of the closest belief systems to that of Findhorn occurs in contemporary quantum physics.

Sorting and screening of potential members is critical if a group is to have longevity and the way of life it desires. Before reaching Findhorn a natural screening process occurs due to the out-of-the-way location of the community. This helps insure that potential members who arrive have high levels of motivation. Those who expend the time, energy and money to reach the community must first be in the guest program (where they can be observed for a week). Potential members must have approximately $2,000 to cover first year living expenses in the community. (After this, members earn their way by work alone.) Finally, before being accepted into the seven-week orientation program, potential members must be interviewed. One of the basic attributes which must be convincingly demonstrated at this time as a fundamental spiritual quest–not associated with any orthodox or organized religious path, but being very personal in nature. Following the seven week orientation (held three times per year) potential members must also write an essay telling why they desire to be a member. Clearly, the combination of screening procedures outlined above helps assure the community of admitting to membership only those most fitting their criteria.

Given the capriciousness of individuals, no screening procedures (however careful and clever) can guarantee error-free selection, or stability of belief and action on the part of any person through time. I was interested, then, in how the community handled members who were deviant. A member of the personnel office said about four or five members were asked to leave each year usually because of mental or emotional problems. A few members have been asked to leave because of theft and drug usage. Members are encouraged to work with those drifting into marginal ways, by talking, counselling and offering advice and encouragement. When this failed, the issue would reach a more formal level, and the personnel office might ask the deviant member to leave. Increasingly, the hope and practice seem to be to expend more effort in helping the deviant mend his ways so that eviction would be necessary. This practice, however, was balanced by the realization and acceptance of the fact that their community was not a therapeutic community (as stated by a member of the personnel offices). Processing of a member engaging in deviant behavior resulted in a “creative turmoil” in the community–a perception in keeping with their deep belief about the importance of consciousness.

Apart from those deviant, when most members leave Findhorn they do so on their own volition; as mentioned earlier, the average stay is 1½ years. Apparently, no formal attempt is made to retain those who want to leave, although at the time of this study a greater informal effort was being made to encourage members to stay on.

A fundamental sociological question in the understanding of any group has to do with the question of how does the group hang together? What gives it order and stability? One way of answering this has to do with the role of authority and the basis of authority in the group. As stated earlier, historically Findhorn has been a charismatically based movement. In the first fifteen years of its existence, the community experienced five or six powerful, charismatic leaders; the fact that they worked cooperatively within the same group, must constitute something of a sociological record. (A normal prediction for such a roster would expect rivalry, power plays and a general state of one-upmanship with all the attendant politics and games.) Findhorn seems to have successfully mastered the critical task (which is the undoing of many sects and cults) of accomplishing what Max Weber saw as both difficult and important if a group is to continue vital–to wit, the diffusion of charisma to the rank and file, the process Weber called the routinization of charisma (Miller, 1968:16). Weber believed there were three bases for authority; 1) traditional, where authority was based on consideration of the past, 2) rational authority, where decisions were made on the basis of rational, logical rules, and 3) charismatic, where authority was based on a powerful leader or personality (Timasheff, 1967:181). Weber believed that charismatic leaders emerged at historical periods when traditional or rational bureaucratic authority was waning (Miller, 1968:16). It appears that while Findhorn in the past was charismatically based, it generally no longer operates this way. A sociologically fascinating event seems to have happened: the charisma of the founding fathers (and mothers) seems to have passed to all of the members of the community. As stated earlier, of the founding charismatic leaders, only the Caddys and Sir George Trevelyan remain, and they are traveling much of the year. It is my belief the community would continue thriving were the Caddys or Trevelyan suddenly to leave permanently. In other words the facts point to their role as largely symbolic; they have voluntarily and consciously turned over everyday authority to the community at large (Eileen because her voice told her to), and the members have easily accepted their new role.

That Findhorn is not a rational–rule based collective is best illustrated by the fact that there seems to be only a handful of formal rules with general applicability to all. The few I could discover as widely shared were: to enter the community one had to declare a definite spiritual quest and desire, 2) no smoking inside buildings, 3) shoes are to be removed before entering the sanctuary, 4) don’t enter the sanctuary after the red light is on, 5) drugs are not to be used (other than a limited usage of alcohol and tobacco, based on person preference). Interestingly, and in character, these rules were not written down (at least where I could find them) and had no sanctions connected with them. The presumption created by this was that the rules were expected to be followed, thus there would be no problem. My guess is that a violation of any of these rules would not bring forth a strong sanction at first; where violation was chronic, sanctions would likely be decided by an appropriate group of people. In one theoretical sense, Findhorn should not continue to function as a group in that it has a remarkable dearth of rules–and those few which exist cover a narrow range of action. In addition, authority and decisions are typically not based on a rational, bureaucratic procedure, nor do they come from any rigid or well-established hierarchy, for such does not exist.

Finally, Findhorn’s internal authority is not based on tradition–quite the contrary. As stated earlier, the group calls itself a “new age” community, and has constructed a new theoretical scaffolding to fit the new era. (It could be argued with some force that their world view is a lunatics mix of shop worn ideas; however I believe it is more accurate to say that in blending ideas they’ve come up with a new synthesis or more possibly, a new application of these ideas.) The community wastes little time revering or reacting to ghosts of the past (they seem to use precious little energy in resisting anything, rather they are very oriented to the present, with an occasional eye to future nows.) The notion of precedent, so powerful in many organizations (our legal system for example) is a past decision with carry over clout into today–that is, tradition based. Findhorn seemed to have few binding precedents. Action was based on decisions flowing out of the now.

Using Weber’s model, it appears that Findhorn’s authority base does not fit well into any of the three types discussed by Weber.[10] I believe an understanding of Findhorn’s mode of operation and authority requires a fourth model–one I’ve elected to call personal-present authority. These terms were selected to show the contrast with Weber’s types: traditional authority, for example, requires the individual to look to the past for direction, rational authority requires a person to look outside to rational rules organized around a hierarchy, while charismatic authority requires the individual to look at a powerful person outside of himself. Personal-present authority, occurs when the individual sees himself as the basis of authority and takes responsibility for his own decisions in matters pertaining mainly to himself. Because he is not hemmed in by a hierarchy, charismatic leaders or tradition, the range of personal authority is greatly extended. Where decisions affect the lives of others, the individual is still the basis of authority operating in relation with other such individuals, until a collective decision is reached–at which point the group can be seen as the authority. The group is given respect and authority because the individuals want it this way, not because the group demands it. The locus of authority flows from the person to the collective and back in a seemingly easy fashion. As stated earlier, precedent and tradition seem to carry little weight; the belief and practice seems to be that because individuals grow and change daily, each day is a new day; thus issues which are seemingly the same on the surface, may lead to quite different decisions or action a day later. For example in regard to admitting an individual as a permanent member of the community, the decision was based on each individual’s case, because each person was seen as unique. Rules about previous decisions (precedents), rules about categories of individuals (social class, religious, financial support, etc.) did not appear to carry significant weight. To try to summarize, what I see is a very subtle and complex decision-making and authority-based process: decisions are made by individuals or groups and are based in the present (on a day-to-day basis) as each new problem or case presents itself.

It has been said that sociology is the scientific study of rules, roles, and relationships (Wilson, 1966). In applying these three concepts to Findhorn, little analysis is possible if by rules is meant the study of written, formal rules. As in any group, however, there are a host of informal rules which set parameters for social action. These rules are so deeply embedded in the social fabric and so much taken for granted that their discovery– let alone their analysis–is difficult. Suffice to say, by way of a general observation of Findhorn, that the informal rules governing face-to-face interaction allowed for and encouraged more trust, affection and candor than prevail in everyday society. This would be expected of a religiously based community.

What are the social roles built into the organization of the community? As with formal rules there seem to be very few experientially or conceptually defined roles. In this regard the community has gone far in achieving the role-free dream of a number of utopias. This has been accomplished in two ways, one a social phenomenon, the other mental. Socially, Findhorn does away with the often rigid roles associated with work and leadership hierarchy. Individuals have considerable freedom deciding where they work, and rotation on the job seems common. Thus a person is not as apt to be known by a work role such as gardener, carpenter, cook, etc.–a utopian idea important to Marx, for example (Lefebvre, 1969). Further, leadership roles are–at least at the lower levels–rotated rather informally. Perhaps in large part due to role rotation at work and in the decision-making hierarchy (even though hierarchy seems like too rigid a word) individuals are typically not seen or known as their roles–a situation approximating that found in small, intimate, face-to-face groups. The typical relationship at Findhorn, then, seems to be person-to-person rather than role-to-role. I believe that this kind of a relationship is a basic factor in explaining the success of Findhorn; that is to understand Findhorn, an analysis of social roles or rules will not provide many insights. Rather, their stability and longevity, as well as the quality of their lives, depends more on the nature of interpersonal relationship and the informal rules governing relationships. A discussion of these relationships is in order.

As with many communities, Findhorn consciously attempts to infuse interpersonal relations with high degrees of love, trust, affirmation, openness, empathy, gentleness and the like. Cooperation is stressed in lieu of competition. In this connection the community bears a close resemblance to the T.O.R.I. groups operated by Jack Gibbs, or the communal living experiments of Carl Rogers (Gibbs, 1971: Rogers, 1970). Perhaps one of the basic differences between Findhorn and some other community experiments is that Findhorn seems remarkably successful in reaching its goal of day-to-day caring relationships. From what members reported (and from what I observed) most relationships, even those of short duration are often characterized by high levels of intimacy. Yet, there seems to be no expectation that intimacy is necessary or has to happen. One way to avoid forcing intimacy is to fully recognize the importance of privacy and quietness for each individual, something that Findhorn does. Thus, an informal rule seems to be that those who prefer to be alone are to be respected.

Part of the social psychological genius of Findhorn lies in its unusual ability in creating a social milieu where the polarities of human wants and needs can be met without apology, explanation or guilt. While offering the possibility of much dependence and intimacy, equally respected and possible are the chances to satisfy basic needs of independence and solitude. Perhaps the latter is more difficult to realize in our modern world, and especially in communities which may attract people long deprived of solid relationships and who can be quite dependent. Cooper suggests we have a prohibition against experiencing our aloneness in the world, and that to be integrated we have to discover”… a fluent dialectic that moves all the time on the shifting antithesis between being alone and being with the other” (Cooper, 1971:14). The respect allowed for solitude and aloneness offers a key to understanding the intimacy which exists in the community–and in turn the deeper intimacy helps us understand the positive aspects of solitude. The organism moves at its own time from one pole to the other, presumably being fulfilled at each pole. Again, the comparison with the theory of Gestalt community can scarcely be avoided, for the above constitutes one of their specific goals (Perls, 1967).

Expressed another way, Findhorn seems very successful at removing the obligation structure from relationships. One is not obligated to be either alone or with others–pressures and rules sensed in many groups. Their rules seem to be: love yourself and (as a divine entity) trust yourself by doing only what feels right at the center of your being. Thus, instead of loneliness, there is solitude, and in lieu of relationship there is intimacy. Intimacy with oneself, nurtured by solitude easily becomes intimacy for another, which can just as easily turn into intimacy for oneself. The polarities support each other.

“It is not the number of friends that is different here but the quality which infuses intentional relationships,” said one three-year resident of Findhorn–a young man who had lived in other communities, and who seemed additionally qualified in his observations because of his PhD. in philosophy. He went on to add that the most intimate relationships were between roommates and then offered that he could, without stress, room with almost anyone at Findhorn, whereas this had not been true at other communities. Are we to conclude from this that the people at Findhorn are different in some marvelous way? My preferred explanation is the sociological one sketched above–namely, that the answer lies in the rules governing relationships (recognizing that these in turn can alter one’s inner attitudes–or what they might say is one’s attunement and consciousness). Others in the community talked about either having, or wanting to have, what they called “impersonal love”–love for others regardless of who the other was, and apart from gains or interpersonal payoffs.

There seem to be two basic patterns of heterosexual romantic love in the community. The first pattern was celibacy, the path seemingly chosen by a definite minority and (2) stable heterosexual relationships. There had been and were reportedly some gay couples of both sexes, and some bisexuals in the community, but they seemed to be accepted without opprobrium. At some point earlier in the community an important minority of young couples had engaged in mate swapping, and the reports I had indicated this had been met with a prevailing sense of understanding and acceptance (if not love). When I was there the community reportedly had passed beyond this stage (with a few exceptions of which I was aware) to a pattern of either celibacy or committed partners. An exception to this would occur when a new member entered the community, during which time there might be a period of “shopping around.” A few members of the community believed there was much sexual frustration present–and someone else said that the community ran mainly on sublimated sexual energy. Also expressed was the belief that couples ought not to fall in love in a way which made the community irrelevant. This sense of the importance of bonding with a number of other people, if followed, would undoubtedly help tie the whole community together.

To summarize the picture of sexual intimacy: Findhorn seemed to have an overall pattern of either celibacy or committed heterosexual partners. However, and again in keeping with what I call the genius of the community, there was room for some behavior deviant from the dominant practices. In accepting the reality of people and people’s needs, in trusting persons to carefully express their own needs and wants–again in the reconciliation and acceptance of opposites (the new age person with his lofty consciousness as well as the sexual needs of primordial man!)–in this embracing of far-flung polarities, the community does away with much fear, guilt, unreality, the rule book and the police state all in one fell action.

Finally, there is the essential question of how does the community handle “negative” interpersonal emotions such as anger and distrust. How such feelings are processed has a great deal to do with the quality of interaction and the stability and longevity of any relationship, a fact attested to by a host of astute, contemporary growth therapies. The modal way of handling this issue in many groups is for everyone to buy into a conspiracy of silence (which pretends everything is fine) while leaving real issues festering underneath as a guaranteed drain on personal energy. Such an approach, favored for example in the bureaucratic hierarchies of business, government and academia, also guarantees that real issues go unresolved, and false issues are inflated as real ones. In such a climate people easily become confused, and fear, distance and distrust become frequently experienced emotions while various psychosomatic stress symptoms are quite predictable.

Other communities (like Findhorn) recognize the reality of negative interpersonal feelings, much more than do our ruling hierarchies. Walden Two had its general bastard and later a bitch box–a direct recognition of the problem, but an indirect way of dealing with it (i.e. file complaints through another person or a message box). Oneida practiced mutual criticism, and seemed to make this process work quite well. Findhorn, in keeping with their unyielding realism, recognizes the problem and deals with it in various direct ways–one being through their process of “sharing.” Sharing is a time for expressing negative feelings, but as Hawken notes, it is not a Synanon attack game (Hawken, 1976:45). During sharing time the residents report on their negative feelings “owning” them as their own, and not getting into endless blame cycles of “you made me angry” etc. Whether through intuition or direct plagiarism, this practice is precisely that commended in a dozen or more growth schools–from T.A. to Gestalt to E.S.T. The success of their sharing depends not so much on technique as the overall caring process–sometimes they make it work well enough to bring a blush to the face of a Warnar Erhardt or a Ron Hubbard.

More recently Findhorn has been invaded by merchandizers of various personal and interpersonal therapeutic techniques; several Gestalt therapists have been there as well as some T.A. people, Rolfers, Touch for Health, etc. Apparently the Gestalt path did not take–my guess is because the community already has so many similarities to that school. The Touch for Health movement was incorporated into Findhorn along with co-counseling, and while I was there, some Re-Birthers from California were training twenty or thirty people in their therapeutic procedure. Some of these approaches were being used in helping process negative personal and interpersonal feelings. As with so many impinging influences, Findhorn opens its arms, seems to skillfully appropriate that which works and feels right, and rejects the rest without further thought. Again, the operational belief is that there are no accidents; that which is needed or appropriate will come at precisely the right moment, and if it doesn’t come, or comes and is rejected, all is equally perfect.[11]

In understanding the workings of interpersonal relations at Findhorn (something I have earlier suggested is one of the keys in understanding the success of their community) it is important that we conceptualize the process as completely and sharply as we can so that the central features are not missed. The concept of feedback is fundamental in this regard; daily interpersonal relations, sharing times and therapeutic group processes all employ this procedure. Feedback can be defined as the process of two or more people sharing their reactions (cognitive and affective) about each other, with each other. Feedback of some kind occurs often in most interpersonal relations, except that typically it tends to be general and evasive, avoiding whole areas of experiences defined as taboo. Groups that consciously use feedback processes encourage the content of feedback to be precise, clear, complete and reported upon as soon as one is aware of an important perception or reaction. During the process the social actors become the objects of discussion. The feedback process is a very self-and-other-conscious process: sharpened awareness of interpersonal and intrapersonal thoughts and feelings is often the essence of feedback.

That such a feedback process is not new seems obvious; that when applied in a very skilled and systematic fashion, accelerating the normal social process to the nth degree, a qualitative change occurs in interpersonal (if not intrapersonal) awareness is far less obvious. At what point a quantitative change leaps up to become qualitative is a matter of fascinating debate; though there seems to be agreement that atomic energy is qualitatively new, or that fission lies qualitatively beyond fusion, there likely is little agreement that an old age can become a new age simply because someone polishes up the feedback process. And yet this is what none other than Kenneth Boulding was positing back in 1963, in talking about feedback and self-other awareness. Boulding argued that a revolution was occuring: “…….this movement of the social system into self consciousness is perhaps one of the most significant phenomena of our time, and it represents a very fundamental break with the past … ” (Boulding, 1963: ). Luft states that, “A qualitative shift in the atmosphere takes place with the sharing of private reactions, tension may mount above the conventional meeting level, and the prospects for significant interactions are increased” (Luft, 1969:45). Parallel to this, Karl Deutsch has developed the notion of a system capable of consciousness, through a procedure whereby messages about normal and regular processes are collected and organized, so as to indicate how the system as a whole is operating–then this data is fed back into the system becoming a part of the new normal system, thus modifying the whole system (Deutsch, 1967: ). Mills states, “That systems might have this type of consciousness is a revolutionary idea” (Mills, 1968: ). The feedback process provides a self-scanning, self-monitoring system that can be seen as a cybernetic process, where feedback loops lead to a continuous change in the state of the system. Findhorn people liked to talk about the continuous changes that occurred in their living organism (group); I’m suggesting that a social psychological way of understanding this is via the cybernetic-feedback model outlined above. To parody Buckminster Fuller: Findhorn seems to be a verb.

It seems reasonable to assume that the clearer and more accurate the feedback, the less the time between action and feedback on the action (lag time),will directly affect the amount of corrective action taken (gain). Highly specific,accurate, and immediate loops, become the best way of making decisions which will enable the individual or group to best cope with its environment. Thus, inaccurate, general and delayed feedback can be tantamount to inadequate coping with the environment, and theoretically could lead to a lack of survival. Slater states that”… the inability to receive negative feedback is ultimately calamitous” (Slater, 1974:45). The skilled use of feedback results in a self-correcting system which is increasingly energy efficient because of increasingly correct decisions–so that the goal or target becomes increasingly centered as the margin of error shrinks.

Findhorn is an excellent example of a self-monitoring, cybernetic feedback social system. I’m suggesting that the internal operation of such groups is qualitatively different from groups which have low self-monitoring and feedback (and presumably therefore have lower success rates in terms of goal attainment). Self-monitoring social systems are in a state of rather constant change, vis-a-vis mechanistic, change resistant systems. The existence of frozen role categories, rigid hierarchies,codified and numerous rules all work against the process of change. These factors may also explain why more groups don’t use feedback in a more systematic way. As previously pointed out, Findhorn has few role categories, very little hierarchy and a paucity of written rules, all of which facilitate the change tied up with the self­ monitoring feedback process. If self-monitoring social systems are qualitatively different from those which do not make a systematic use of self-monitoring, then Findhorn’s claim to be a new age group can be supported by this sociological observation.

Philip Slater makes the observation that in our society many of us are preoccupied with inner–symbolic circuitry (due partly to our higher levels of education) and that we fail to reality test these inner circuits with the outer world (Slater, 1973). This stands in contrast to an individual or group which tests the inner (psychological) processes with the external (social­ ecological) for goodness of fit, via some kind of feedback procedure.

Rogers points out that when communication in a social network yields frequent and immediate feedback certain psychological states are a result, one being that a basic source of anxiety is removed–anxiety having to do with the question of where one stands in relationship with others, and the quality of those relations (Rogers, 1977). The mental state accruing from such a social situation has been called “flow”–and is characterized by a feeling of peace, social integration, being fully present in the now and overall well­ being.

The notion of feedback is close to the concepts of reflexivity and role taking as developed by George Herbert Mead. Role taking and reflexivity refer to the ability to stand apart from oneself and to imagine how one appears in the eyes of the other–what Cooley called “the looking glass self” (Cooley, 1902). Reflexivity, role taking and feedback are essential building blocks in the human drama, for without them communication, cooperation, understanding, empathy, prediction, stability and interaction are simply not possible. Again, everyone and every group has some reflexivity and feedback as part of daily routines; the above line of reasoning points clearly to the notion that a refinement in feedback enhances human interaction allowing for an increase in a host of social (and personal) graces. Findhorn’s concept of attunement seems close to the notions of role taking, reflexivity and feedback.

Along with feedback, decision making procedures are a part of all groups; the way decisions are made can have profound impact on the stability, longevity and quality of life of any group. The literature on community suggests that decision making can almost either make or break the group. Several members at Findhorn stated that decision making was the point of greatest tension in the community. Also stressed was the notion that it was important not to allow anyone else to run one’s own life, thus very fundamental in the decision making process was the importance of personal responsibility: one was to make as many as possible of the decisions which immediately affected one’s own life. The sphere of personal influence (supported by the belief that each person is divine in her/his own way) seems extended to its maximum–yet clearly it is not the hang-loose ethic of “do-your-own-thing” which spelled the death of some communes. As I have pointed out before, one of the great strengths of Findhorn is its inclusion of polarities: while the individual has great freedom in decision making, so also does the group. Reconciliation of these seeming opposites, appears to depend on at least two critical factors, (1) the ability to frequently and accurately differentiate which decision is properly a group one and which is personal and (2) the flexibility and elasticity of both individuals and the collective for modifying or giving up preferred choices. I believe both these elements are critical in the success of all interpersonal relationships–diads, groups, communities and societies.

One way the above was expressed by members was in the belief that it is appropriate to knock at the door–even to bang on it–but equally important was refraining from knocking the door down. An example used on more than one occasion was in regard to joining the community: if at first one were refused the rule would be to try again and perhaps again and again; however at some point the feedback, if always negative ought to lead one to cease and desist knocking–if not for one’s salvation at least to preserve the knuckles.[12]

In this fluid process both individual and the group win and lose decisions, as the life of the community flows from one moment to another. The “nowness” of the time orientation may account for the fact that no one seems to keep score–“you win some and you lose some” seems to be the realistic settlement made by most.

As another brief example of what I believe is a little understood and complex decision making process, occurs regularly in the routine of the kitchen. As first-time cooks come in (guests or members), they are encouraged to prepare their favorite recipe. The new cook makes the decision with others in the kitchen and they may help in preparing the new dish. Because of the lack of hierarchy, the size, informality and extended intimacy of the group, evaluation of the new dish is communicated quickly, and the feedback may well reach the cooks later that evening. As I understand the process it would now be a personal decision for the individual who cooked the new dish, as to whether to re-serve it or not. If he inaccurately assesses the feedback or accurately reads it but does the opposite, he may for example make the dish several more times before the other kitchen help gives more explicit feedback (as individuals or as a group). It is important to note that this is only one analysis of this process. Also, important is the observation that most of the above processes seem typically to occur easily and naturally–without becoming a formal issue requiring conscious time by some deliberately selected group.

Frequent and accurate feedback allows pleasing (if not “correct” decisions to occur); decisions once made can be modified an hour or day later as feedback decrees. (While this may give an impression of a group with both feet always in the air, such is not accurate, for their belief system provides a bedrock from which one leaps into the air in the first place–again the integration of polarities.)

As I said earlier, the decision making process sketched above is both subtle and complex and thus I believe little understood[13]. Charles-Hampden Turner has developed a model for “psycho-social development” which I use in an attempt to further understand the decision making process used at Findhorn (C. H. Turner, 1971). Turner’s model assumes that (1) man has considerable choice in thought and action (an assumption which appears true for Findhorn) and that through his (2) perception and self-identity he (3) experiences himself as competent and (4) he invests his competence with intensity expressing himself as authentically as possible; (5) but following this self­ expression he is willing to suspend his own cognitive structures and feelings and risk himself (and his beliefs) in, (6) trying to authentically understand others while bridging the gap to them; then (7) an attempt at self-confirmation and self-transcendence is made which can (8) lead to a synergistic relationship (or union of ideas), and finally (9) each person in this process will attempt to integrate the feedback into “mental matrices of developing complexity” (C. H. Turner, 1970:31). In summary I believe the decision making process at Findhorn involves all the steps in Turner’s theory–a belief in freedom, an experience of self-confidence and competence, and intense involvement in authentically expressing oneself, combined with a willingness to risk all in empathetically entering another’s world, and out of all this both individuals and the group can reach a synergistic decision. The belief in freedom and in one’s importance and competence is soundly supported by their ideology, as is their desire to fully understand another’s world.

In terms of the formal organization of the community and its role in decision making, at the top of the flexible hierarchy would be the Caddys. Their role seems to be more that of honorific founders and elders; while they have input in some decisions, they are typically not involved in day-to-day decisions. Next would be the officers of the legal trust; they appear to be highly respected, long time members of the community, and as with the Caddys their voice seems to be heard most clearly in official and legal decisions which interface with the outside world, and/or in matters of unusual importance within the community. Other administrators (personnel, finance, bookkeeping, for example) are responsible for making decisions affecting their immediate sphere of influence, but as with any member are free to enter the decision making process where decisions affect everyone. The “Core Group”, in Spring of 1977 consisted of 18 members (14 males, 4 females). Their average length of stay was approximately 1½ years. They apparently were selected because they were widely liked, “natural leaders,” and had “good energy..” The Core Group’s function reportedly was to stay attuned to what was happening in the community, to help establish policy and make decisions which were not made more informally. The Focalizers group had a member for each work area; this group seemed the most informal of any in the hierarchy. Members were selected very informally and perhaps would be a Focalizer for only a day or a week–while others might be for a year or more. Often people who were not “naturally good” leaders were selected for this function. Focalizers not only met as a group, but operated as individuals in the work areas. Focalizers’ prime functions were to be sensitive and aware of feelings and issues being talked about in the whole community, to have fun, and to “channel energy” to others as needed.

In summary; the hierarchy that exists in the community is generally quite informal, with few roles, rules and offices. The sphere of influence for each group or person seemed just as informal and undefined. There did not appear to be any well-defined communication channels or procedures. Reportedly, more and more decisions were being made outside the official bodies or members cited above and this was seen as desirable by everyone I interviewed. The decision-making process is thus very fluid and informal, and based on general (unwritten) guidelines and a particular “type of consciousness” which is deeply imbedded in the belief and action system of the community. Because there are no formally established communication channels, communication occurs between any of the groups or between individuals at any time. Several members expressed the belief that government ought to be the reflection of the consciousness of the group. Zablocki, after visiting over 100 communes, states he knows of none where decisions are made by majority vote; rather decision by consensus was the rule. He states that a typical decision making session involves members actively listening and probing evermore deeply into the feelings, meanings, and motivations of others, until finally a common ground is found and everyone can be happy with the decision. Such group processes yield a high sense of solidarity, and as Zablocki notes the more difficult the decision the closer people are brought together (Zablocki, 1971:315-16). These observations seem to accurately describe decision-making at Findhorn; while the process is exceedingly complex and subtle when closely scrutinized, in daily operation it operates simply as an act of intimacy which increases the social bonding of members. Paradoxically, the more difficult the decision the closer members are brought together–the opposite to that which occurs in many groups.

If some of the reports on Findhorn are believed–along with the view of the community itself–then nothing less than a basic human revolution is occurring at that spot in Scotland (in member’s terminology, Findhorn is rewiring our planet for a new age of consciousness). To dwell on the cutting edge of a quantum leap into the future has to be exciting, and very ego­ boosting for community members; I was curious as to how people in the village adjacent to Findhorn were reacting to the consciousness explosion at the Findhorn test site. Would the villagers be excited by Pan and his pipes? And how would they react to the invasion by internationals?

Because I have more confidence in depth interviews (vis-a-vis a survey approach) (and in part due to time limitations), I interviewed only nine villagers, choosing a sample I thought might have had considerable contact with the community.

The overall reaction of the villagers I interviewed was one of mild curiosity, positive support, respect and distance. Only one individual (of the nine) had been to the campus (even though it was only two miles away–and Cluny Hill only half a mile). There was wide agreement that the members were not “hippies.” Only one individual expressed negative feelings towards Findhorn–though two others said that many villagers were quite negative. Four of the nine villagers were very positive in their views of Findhorn–and these four had considerable contact with the community. The pattern I observed was that the more the contact with Findhorn members, the more positive were the feelings. The typical reaction to the rumors of lush gardens and fairy-talk, was one of “live and let live”–as one individual expressed it. Someone else said, “It’s okay to talk to flowers, I do it myself sometimes!.” A question common to many had to do with financing of the community; clearly the
increasingly imposing campuses were requiring high finances. One respondent with an overall negative view, saw Peter Caddy as a con-artist who somehow bilked people out of their money.

In one sense I was not surprised by the casual, though positive indifference the villagers had toward Findhorn. On the other hand, a certain streak of logic kept telling me that a community exciting the global curiosity and visits of Findhorn, might occasion a deeper look and stronger passion than what I observed. Were the villagers frightened or threatened by Findhorn? Had Findhorn overlooked the villagers in its plan to rewire planet Earth? (To some extent I felt they had.) The answers to what I see as the common paradox mentioned above remain to be explored.

Within this study I have made several observations regarding the dynamics of Findhorn, in an attempt to understand the basis of its social order. I would now like to summarize these factors beginning with those I see as most helpful in understanding their quality of life, and their relative longevity.

Very important in their success is what I have been referring to as their inclusion or reconciliation of the polarities found within the human personality. Very few groups–other than small primary ones–seem capable of such all embracing inclusion: prisons easily banish joy, love and gentleness while excelling in toughness; Disneyland eliminates seriousness and solitude while getting us drunk on fun; most religions, while exalting piety and spirituality, pretend that sensuality, sex, anger and the like are not real; academia–and most bureaucracies–worship the head, while operating as though the heart and body were subversive. The list is rather endless, the point being that most groups, institutions, organizations or cultures do not recognize or allow for the full range of needs and wants of the personality. Again, a whole range of recent writers, therapists and scientists have also reached the above conclusions.

Findhorn has created an almost reckless social milieu: tears and laughter co-exist, as do solitude and togetherness; across their lawns spirituality and sensuality parade arm in arm, and while meat eaters have to go to town for steak, elders can skip about as children; members know the toil of hard work and the depths of fun and relaxation, just as they are easily intimate with the time-stopping silence of meditation and the joyous uproar of their Saturday evening dancing. On their campus the latest theories of science are talked about in the same breath as the wonders of prancing elves.

I call a group which accepts as real the polarities within and diversity between individuals, wholistic. Such a group is built from “the ground up”-­ that is it flows out of an acceptance and understanding of people, in contrast to many groups which try to compress people into traditional molds or the whims of a charismatic leader bent on having order, respect and a following (even if symbolic lobotomies are a daily routine). Any attempt to overly compress the human personality into a predetermined pattern can succeed only at a great cost (a police state, stress, various kinds of personal and social breakdowns). Within narrowly designed groups, eventually a pressure point breaks open, and personal desires and needs are met–through riot, revolution, sit-ins, sick­-outs, petitions–until, as often happens, “the lid” is put back on and the cycle repeats. Erving Goffman, talked about total institutions–places where the institutions had almost total control over individual needs and wants; the same terms could be applied to the kind of place I’m talking about only in the opposite sense of its meaning, a place where most of the totality of the human personality is accepted and recognized (Goffman, 1961). Edward Sapir, many years ago differentiated between spurious and genuine cultures: a spurious culture, he believed, would not be able to satisfy basic human needs while a genuine one would (Sapir, 1924; 401-429). A genuine culture–what I’m calling a wholistic one–affords little chance for deviance or rebellion, for most needs and wants are fulfilled and there is very little one can react against. Jung believed each personality had a dark underside called a shadow, and Yinger recently states that”… contemporary sociology is largely unaware of the deeply non-rational forces at work in all societies, forces that are built around symbol, ritual, and myth” (Yinger, 1977; 835). In the same vein, Slater states: “for the reason a group needs the kind of creative deviant … is the same reason it needs to sacrifice them: the failure of the group members to recognize the complexity and diversity and ambivalence within themselves. Since they have oversimplified and rejected parts of themselves, they not only lack certain resources but also are unable to tolerate their naked exposure by others. The deviant is a compensatory mechanism to mitigate this condition. He comes along and tries to provide what is ‘lacking’ in the group (that is, what is present but denied, suppressed). His role is like that of the mutant–most are sacrificed but a few survive to save the group from itself in times of change.” He goes on to say, that if we “…. recognize that any group’s sentiment, and it’s opposite, represents a part of everyone but only a part, then the prophet is unnecessary since he exists in all of us. And should he appear it will be unnecessary to sacrifice him since we have already admitted that what he is saying is true. And in the meantime we would be able to exercise our humanity, governing each other and being governed, instead of encasing ourselves in the leaden armor of our technical schizophrenia” (Slater, 1970; 27-28). Again, in the context of Slater, Findhorn seems to recognize the full complexity of the human being–recognizing for example both the visionary prophet and the worker grounded-in-the-present, within everyone.

Closely related to the above, I would cite as a second important factor in Findhorn’s success, their acceptance of the unconscious as a real part of the person. Zablocki points to this as a prime reason for the success of the Bruderhof–their encouragement of the expression of the unconscious through institutionalized means and rituals. He points out that fiestas, saturnalias, carnival, times of psychic regression through ecstasy, outbursts and similar releases are quite necessary (yet unmet in most of our institutions) (Zablocki, 1971; 321). Zablocki’s thinking in this regard is close to the concept of the ego psychologists who talk about regression in the service of the ego. Maslow believes the very healthy, self-actualized person can easily engage in needed and appropriate expression of the unconscious (Maslow, 1954). Findhorn allows for expression of the unconscious through institutionalized meditation, rituals, dance, frivolous play, zaniness, tears and various expressive therapies.

A third basic factor in Findhorn’s success is their refined and systematic use of feedback processes–discussed previously at some length.

A fourth important variable is the powerful, integrated and complex belief system which supports the community. While Twin Oaks, for example, rests on perhaps an equally integrated and complex ideology, it lacks the vision, passion and power of the Findhorn myths. Once understood and accepted the Findhorn myth can directly lead to very high self-regard and confidence to the point of positive paranoia (so that the world from a member’s eyes is seen as a conspiracy organized for their benefit). Kanter and Zablocki underscore the role played by ideological factors for social bonding and commitment in communities (Zablocki, 1971) (Kanter, 1972). The richness of the Findhorn world view provides something for everyone, and serves the social bonding function served by religions generally. Combined with the above, the attention and interest excited by Findhorn must surely enhance the sense of mission and importance enjoyed by the community.

As a fifth factor of basic importance to the community, I would cite the easy openness among members; the lack of rigid roles, rules and hierarchies allows for communication and contact between everyone. A situation of extended or diffused intimacy appears to exist, and when interpersonal relationships are supported by powerful spiritual beliefs of love, understanding and acceptance, relationships become even more congenial. In addition Findhorn’s relationship to the outside world is open and very congenial; members do not appear bent on converting people against their wishes, nor do they appear interested in attacking or reacting against the outside world. Such a posture assures that all available energies are left for positive ends within the community. Needless to say, their convivial interface with the rest of planet earth represents a high wisdom, for as Kanter and others have pointed out antagonism and persecution from outsiders have been important factors in the dissolution of many group experiments (Kanter, 1972).

As a sixth fundamental characteristic helping make the community work, I would mention again the decision-making process; where the individual is seen as god-like and encouraged to change things that don’t seem right, and where avenues for change are easily available, it is difficult to be disgruntled. I would expect that members would score low on some of the scales which measure alienation, meaninglessness, powerlessness, etc.–a fruitful direction for future research.

Beyond the six factors cited above, which I see as most basic in the success of Findhorn, there are various other features each of which adds something to community well-being. These would include (but are not restricted to): the careful screening process which includes high commitment; the very comfortable, orderly and clean middle-class environment, coupled with a surplus of excellent food, and supported by a belief in the enjoyment of the good things in life; the intrinsic rewards in work situations, where the emphasis is on self-discovery, sense of meaning and fastidious quality.[14]

In conclusion perhaps it is accurate to say that the “magic” of Findhorn lies not in any one feature, but in the way the community combines the various elements into a working whole.

Kanter (Kanter, 1972:126) in her lengthy study of communities cites several characteristics of those which were successful; the following is a partial summary of those characteristics, and behind each I’ve rated Findhorn on the extent it manifests the characteristics:

Out of the seventeen characteristics, Findhorn rates seven “yes,” four very highly, and two to some extent (counting number 13 as some). Out of these seventeen characteristics Findhorn is missing only four; the fact it has thirteen out of seventeen suggests a secure future for the community.

In the same vein, Fairfield (Fairfield, 1968) cites six basic reasons for failure of communes in the U.S.A.:

Again, in that Findhorn does not show five of six of these reasons for failure, the prediction from this is for a continued existence.

In addition to the above considerations, other features of the community point to a healthy, continued existence: the fact that more members over thirty-five years of age are staying ought to increase the stability of the community, in that this group stays longer than the under thirty-five group. The community has probably passed through its most difficult period, the first fifteen years, when there were some drastic changes in leadership styles. The fact that the community seems able to pass on the charisma from the founding leaders to individual members, and to keep their vision alive suggests that they have passed an important hurdle in keeping the community vital. The expansion of their economic base and capital investment, points towards increasing stability in the future. (They have recently acquired a house in Kent and are refurbishing it, as a new experimental campus; beyond this Eileen’s voice is reportedly saying that before long they will acquire the nearby air base.)

Findhorn claims to be a “new-Age” community basing this view on their belief in the evolution of mankind–a development they see as closely connected to astrological phenomenon. In what follows I suggest ways in which a social psychological distinction might be made between so called “old age” and “new age” phenomenon; this is an attempt at trying to understand what the Findhorn community means when it uses the term “new age” phenomenon.

More than anything the concept of “new age” appears to refer to a type of consciousness–a way of seeing the world anew, so that one’s relationships with others, work, self, material objects, etc. is radically altered. How the idea of new age differs from the traditional notion of “being born again” remains to be explored, however both refer to radical alterations in perception, thought and feeling (if not action) to the point that one’s whole life is seen in contrast with previous existence. New age consciousness vis-a-vis “being born again”–appears to extend the quality and range of inner change to the point where external forms, appearances and manifestations do not offer reliable clues to the consciousness of the person exhibiting the external forms.[15]: “New­ age” consciousness centers around the practice of loving one’s self and others while perceiving the divine unity permeating all things. Perhaps the perception of unity is a basic difference between new and old age consciousness; old age thinking (and the “born again” experience) tends to divide the world into two camps–saved and sinner, good and bad, normal and abnormal etc.-­ while new age consciousness stresses acceptance, unity and love. Weil (1972), in a seminal work on consciousness, makes the distinction between two types of thinking, 1) straight thinking–which tends to see differences and 2) stoned thinking, which focuses on similarities between phenomenon (and has nothing to do with drugs). What he calls straight thinking would be “old age” in the context above, while stoned would be “new age” consciousness.

Recent brain research suggests that the two hemispheres each have separate functions; the left brain operates in terms of logical, step-wise, linear, inductive, rational processes (as manifested in hard science, say), while the right hemisphere has been isolated as the centre of intuitive, artistic, impulsive, feeling, deductive thought (expressed more in music, art, poetry, soft science). New age consciousness, as described by Findhorn members, appears most closely connected with the right brain, although it might be seen as a synthesis of both.

Still other writers have made distinctions between character-types and thought-patterns, reminiscent of the new-old age distinction. Riesman detailed the relationship between consciousness, character structure and the changing needs of culture and the social order, outlining three basic types of character orientation, 1) tradition directed, 2) inner directed and 3) other directed. He concluded by speculating about a fourth type of orientation which might appear, namely the autonomous person (Riesman, 1951). His first three types would fall into “old age” categories, while the autonomous individual would presumably be a “new age” creature. Reisman’s autonomous orientation seems to be a good working description of the modal orientation at Findhorn.

Lawrence Kohlberg (1963) has developed a six fold typology of moral development, along with measuring scales. The first four stages of moral development are based respectively on 1) fear orientation (action is based on fear of punishment, 2) selfish interest (limited reciprocity–scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours) 3) basic needs for approval (good boy, nice girl–what others think is basis of action) 4) law and order (laws are sacred, good, are to be obeyed because they are laws). Stages five and six are based on universal (culturally free) abstract and general principles which serve as guides for action. Conceptually, stages one through four would seem to fit under the rubric “old age,” while stages five and six would typify “new age.” For example, the concept of “impersonal love” represents stage six thinking.

Reich (1971) differentiated between three types of consciousness (in a way reminiscent of Riesman); type one was characterized by the lone pioneer, pilgrim and robber baron, sacrificing self to conquer others, wealth or nature; type two, was seen as the organization man, other directed, imbedded in a hierarchy, rational, and status conscious. Consciousness three was described as being radically subjective, open to a wide variety of experience, child-like, frank, optimistic, visionary, joyful, loving and communal. Reich’s third type of consciousness best describes Findhorn.

Finally, in rounding out a representative profile of thinking about types of consciousness, Roszak and Slater speculated about the emerging counter-culture of the late sixties and early seventies. Roszak (1970) saw the two cultures characterized by:

Slater (1970 described the two cultures in the following ways:

The list of thinkers who have tried to conceptualize what has recently been called the “new age,” could be extended a great deal. The above sample includes some of the best known and most penetrating analysis, and hopefully the summary of these works makes two things clear. The first being the wide basis of agreement between individual thinkers, and secondly the basic goodness-of-fit between the conceptualizations of the “new age” and the daily operation of Findhorn. What these thinkers were observing in the United States paralleled the lifestyle and consciousness emerging at Findhorn.

Future research on communities such as Findhorn could productively use a series of standardized tests to give a more in-depth, empirically rigorous profile to round out and compliment the kind of research presented here. I am hoping I can return to Findhorn for a longer period of time, to conduct a follow up study using sociometric tests, personality inventories and basic medical stress tests (blood pressure, psychosomatic symptoms etc.). If the social environment of Findhorn is essentially life-enhancing (as I believe it is) then I would hypothesize that members would have fewer stress symptoms (mental and physical), and different personality profiles than individuals in more conventional social networks.

The currently popular view in social science does not accept the notion of mankind evolving linearly or upwardly, rather we tend to see change as directionless. Imbedded in our theorizing, at a much deeper almost pre­-conscious level, there also appears to be an assumption that our scientific enterprise represents the apogee of human intellectual development–and along with this the unchallenged notion that knowledge from now on will at best be a footnote to our accomplishments. The latter is easily believed given the creative genius and sheer wizardry of science in our times. Still, it seems paradoxical that we see social change and human development as directionless, and simultaneously believe we represent the immensely clever end of the human trajectory. One way to reconcile these antinomies is to accept the view of overall direction (even though we cannot be sure where we are going), seeing science as one of the latest–and perhaps one of the most creative–steps in an evolutionary sequence.

It seems entirely likely that the existence of homo sapiens over hundreds of years constitutes a collective learning experience –in looking at the past, for example, we use our unique capacity for symbolizing to feedback on ourselves, and in so doing perchance reduce anti-survival errors. Perhaps the scientific revolution which so enlarged our understanding of the material world is being followed by an equally dramatic revolution in our models of our own inner landscape–an implosion into increased self-awareness and understanding. Presumably our time is not the end time; change occurs more rapidly than ever, and nothing less than a revolution in thought can be expected. Yet, as dramatic as the revolution will be and however different our emerging models of man, during the transition period it is difficult to see the change in landscape for in this case we are the landscape.

J. Milton Yinger says, “In my judgement we are in the midst of a major civilizational transformation. The critical issue that humankind faces today is: how to create a rolling adjustment to the incredibly rapid and drastic changes taking place on the planet” (Yinger, 1977). Similarly, Maslow wrote:

It is increasingly clear that a philosophical revolution is underway. A comprehensive system is swiftly developing like a fruit tree beginning to bear fruit on every branch at the same time. Every field of science and human endeavor is being affected. We are dealing with a new image of man. This is most important because from that everything else flows. All of man’s work, all of man’s institutions … can be modified. The image of man is growing. There are more possibilities (Maslow, 1973).

Roszak calls us the “unfinished animal,” and envisages

through all these starry-eyed images of an Aquarian Age filled with wonders and well-being, a transformation of human personality in progress which is of evolutionary proportions, a shift of consciousness fully as epoch-making at the appearance of speech or of the tool-making talents in our cultural repertory (Roszak, 1975:3).

Houston concludes,

Never before have we had so much responsibility for the remaking of ourselves and our world. We seek people with faith in the future of our planet who are willing to develop richer, deeper scenarios of life that involve a new image of a human being and a new style of being human (Houston, 1978).

The remaking of our world, for Malachi Martin, always involves an exaltation of the self (Hartin, 1974). He believes,

The vision of the new Castle has already appeared to millions of men and women throughout our modern world, without intermediaries and directly to their inner selves. Its greatest harbinger is the dislocation we daily witness more and more in our political affiliations, social structures, Establishment attitudes, personal morality and life values.

For the moment this dislocation is all we can know of the new vision, for we have been taught not to recognize any vision. We unknow it. Along with this difficulty we have one other: until the vision becomes visible and tangible reality, we cannot put its outlines into words. We can, however, describe the vision in its happening, and, in revisiting the scenes of former visions, endeavor to comprehend its meaning. It is our understanding that has gone awry.

Many past onlookers of the human scene in Mecca, Jerusalem, Rome, Constantinople, Peking and Angkor Wat have had the same sense of dislocation as we have today. They had been used to a relatively changeless face in the world around them. But at certain times there was some peculiar human implosion followed by a total revamping of man’s living dimension–creating eddies of cultural exaltation, social adaptation and political renewal felt for thousands of years afterward and far beyond the epicenter of the original happening. That human implosion is what we have called a vision of the human Castle.

When the vision came, it always dissolved instantaneously and without foreknowledge an entire inner landscape formed in men and women during previous millennia of living. In its place there appeared an unexpected landscape. A hidden transom opened in their human skies; the infinite, the divine smiled down. And the human dimension itself was changed. Some imageless force gripped the men and women involved. The results were always surprising, empirically unmistakable, as in the inexorable takeover of the Roman Empire by an obscure Christianity. And the results always implied action and fresh reality, as in the rebirth of the Jewish ideal in modern Israel.

When you examine each Castle vision in history, a clear antinomy emerges. On the one hand, no one of them derives from the other. But, taken together, they integrate a quasi-total picture of the human Castle ideal. They have a unity, not as if one evolved from the other but as if each depicted one facet of a superior paradigm, as if each historical vision was a piecemeal reproduction of that paradigm.

George Leonard believes the process of change involves seven stages, the first being the development of new perceptions by significant numbers of people within a culture, followed by a vision, myth and story, which eventually leads to a new theory, followed by a new specific model which in turn leads to a political application and finally a new culture or subculture is formed. He goes on to state that,

These new perceptions cry out for a positive vision, a preliminary myth about a different kind of people. . . The individuals in the emerging vision are adventurers of the spirit, men and women of heightened intuition and empathy, dedicated to a lifelong journey of learning and transformation. They are playful and versatile of mind, not trapped as was Enlightenment man by the tyranny of ‘Reason’ and not vulnerable to any single intellectual formulation. They are capable of swimming in many seas of thought and being. They are tuned more to the comic than the tragic spirit, insofar as tragedy is allied to civilization and death while comedy is allied to redemption and rebirth. There may be about these protean men and women of the new culture something that appears naive, a willingness to take pratfalls in pursuit of the mysteries …. But there is also a commitment to balance and harmony. This commitment leads naturally to an openness to experience and a sense of oneness with all existence, which in turn informs moral action (Leonard, 1974:17).

Leonard’s description is a fascinatingly accurate portrait of what I believe is the modal Findhorn personality.

In the waxing and waning of social-cultural development, there is likely more waxing than waning–not forgetting that our trajectory is not a straight line but perhaps an upwardly spiraling helix; if it seems during the waning phase we are going backwards it may be only because we are. To assume an absence of progress and overall direction is a bad-faith assumption which makes light of our species. Assumptions, models, perceptions and labels tend to have a way of shaping people, events and things to match the statements made. Groups such as Findhorn offer a good-faith model of mankind–an·optimistic view which if believed may be necessary to an enriched life and perchance our survival. There are ample historical precedents which suggest that the cutting edge into tomorrow, the poetic insight, the prophetic vision are based more in the right hemisphere of our brain. Thus science fiction often precedes actual scientific scenarios and applications; the visionary myths offered by groups such as Findhorn can be seen as a type of social science fiction, and may anticipate a realization of the myth in the larger culture.

The possibilities of an emerging new Castle are exciting enough to be scary–a glimpse of the “too much” causing us to often shrink back in honest incredulity. Ultimately it may well be we are more afraid to fully live than we are to simply die. Yeats, in a fit of poetic passion, saw our centre collapsing, anarchy and revelation descending, and he ended his vision with a question: “And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?” Rough beasts or gentle fairies, Bethlehem or Findhorn-­ the form and place are not really important in the context of a possible planetary move toward a new model of humanity.

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