Editor’s Note:

Katherine Collis wrote a three-part feature about Iona and the retreat house Traigh Bhan. These three articles were split across various editions of the Community magazine Network News. This third part, re-created below, is taken from Network News No 18, which was published in Spring 1999. 

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In Part 2 of this article, Curriculum of The Soul, I explored how Iona evokes a sense of return and homecoming, inviting us into the domain of our deeper nature, and enabling us to reclaim the gifts of our souls. In Part 3 I wish to explore how Iona stirs the Will, a will to incarnate who we are more fully in the world – a world that both calls us and deeply yearns for the gifts we have to give.

There is a saying on Iona, allegedly going back to the time of  St Columba, that states no one should remain on Iona for longer than three years. I first heard this in 1971 from Iain Reid, then warden of Iona Abbey and head of the Iona Community. Iain told me that all of the Abbey staff followed this rule, changing along with the wardens every three years. This was something that George MacLeod, the far-seeing founder of the Iona Community, insisted on. I asked Iain why this was. “Because the spiritual call of Iona is not escape from the world, it is in response to the call of being in the world.”

He went on to explain that students and monks of old, during the 6th century, who came to Iona for learning, did so knowing they would one day leave to follow “the call”. This following of a call was built on an earlier Celtic tradition of exile, the making of a sacrificial journey on behalf of the Sun God or Christ, corresponding to the interior journey of the soul. At the appointed time, whether they felt ready or not, these scholar monks got into their coracles – boats of stretched hide and wood  – said farewell to their beloved companions whom they might never see again, and headed out into the open sea away from Iona’s shores.

Apparently, they did not know where they were going. Guided only by the elements, steered by wind and tide, directed by the kindness or meanness of stranger, they would follow where fate took them, often into the most inhospitable of circumstances. With a faith in the invisible hands of angels, armed with their own inner listening and interpreting of signs, they trusted being led to the right places and to where they ultimately would serve and settle.

So it was, throughout the Dark Ages, like the scattering of seeds on the wind, these “white monks”, as they were then called, spread north, south, east and west, establishing simple and humble centres of healing, worship and learning. According to Thomas Cahill’s book How The Irish Saved Civilisation, the literacy, learning, and influence of these men, and in some cases women, turned the events of European history around, bringing light into darkness and order out of the chaos of the time. The thought of these Celtic saints and their quests has always stirred me, resonating to some truth deep inside that reflects a universal principle. Like ourselves, Iona is not an island unto itself, but a place which is in relationship to some greater pattern and purpose, invisibly, inextricably, connected to all.

Often, as I stand on the south-end cliffs of Iona, looking out over the wild sea, I cast myself into their lot. I marvel at their courage as they set forth on their missions, riding out on the swell in those little coracles, surrendering themselves to the spirit of wind and tide. What did they know? What fire burned inside that fuelled their courage and passion? How did they gain such faith and trust? With the waves crashing below, I think of our world now, casting my inner eye out over the horizon around the earth. What is it that wakes an equivalent passion for our time? What fire must now be lit to act on behalf of this life, greater than just the concerns of our own personal survival? What sacrificial journeys must we make?

It can be overwhelming when considering the needs of our own changing world. We stand face to face with our own dark age – ignorant of interconnectedness, illiterate of soul, hungry at so many levels, as a result of self-serving, short-sighted interests. Amidst the mushrooming complexities of socioeconomic globalisation, the saga of the politics of greed over the politics of nourishment plays itself out. Even as more and more of humanity comes of age, preparing to move into a new millennium, we do so inheriting the precarious results of playing environmental roulette with the very balance of life on earth.

Such musings always bring me to reflect on the link between Iona and Findhorn and to the foundations on which the Findhorn Foundation was built. In so many ways, the Findhorn Foundation has performed a role equivalent to those early Celtic orders, providing a centre of spiritual and community learning, in relationship to understanding the current issues of our world. Thousands of individuals have been drawn and have gone forth again, centred more in Self, in God, in valuing all life as sacred and more deeply connected to the awakening human “network of light” that stretches over the planet.

Perhaps, for many of us, our courage is not dissimilar to that of those monks. Instead of coracles we jump into cars and head out on aeroplanes – often with nothing. Having given up years of accumulating those things that come from working in the mainstream, we are rich with other gifts of learning, armed with our own inner faith (and copies of the Laws of Manifestation), that time tests, tries, and in each person’s unique way, proves true.

Of course, there has also been loss of faith and disillusionment, showing the fallibility of noble ideals that are not always matched with skills; of acquiring spiritual technologies in lieu of actual expe­rience; of using spiritual community as an escape from the human condition. Perhaps the biggest fault lies in a misconception that connection to God either ensures our lives will be more comfort­able, or translates into some directive act of “getting guidance” that diminishes human creativity, common sense and will.

As the years pass since the early days of Findhorn, it is easy to forget that Peter, Eileen and Dorothy had no knowledge of what the future would bring, nor were they attached to personal outcome. Like Iona’s wild monks, their intention was to do the highest good, centred in the moment, to be of service with an absolute trust that they would be led. This was matched with a dedication to do what was asked of them, regardless of like or dislike. I recall sitting with Dorothy Maclean one morning over tea and asking her what she thought was the single most important factor in the creation of Findhorn. Was it the place? Was it the angels? Was it Peter’s, Eileen’s, and her practice of inner listening and following guidance? She looked at me and without a blink said, “Commitment. It was one hundred per cent human commitment to God. Without commitment the rest was irrelevant.”

For my husband Roger, and me, Iona has played a central part in discovering what is meant by this sense of commitment. There is no doubt that from the first time we visited the island, something stirred within each of us that has resulted in a lasting and sustaining relationship to spirit – a covenant if you will – that has proven both practical and enriching in the outworking of all aspects of our lives and that continues to deepen over time. Where this comes from is simply part of the Iona mystery, intimately related to the spirit and call of the world. It is not Iona per se that does this. It is, of course, something deep within ourselves.  Perhaps like a mirror, places such as Iona hold before us our reflections, allowing us to see what is inherently within, glimpsing who we truly are as part of the miracle, and love, and unfolding fabric of all creation. Out of this awakens a desire and will to bring this revelation into our everyday lives.

On the north shore of the island lie the black stones of Iona. As I mentioned in Part 1 of this Iona series, legend speaks of these as the Stones of Destiny where the chieftains of old took their oaths and were wedded to the well-being of the land and their people. I love these old rocks and before leaving Iona I always go to them to say my farewell to the island. Leaning my back against them I look to whatever might lie ahead, recommitting myself in service to what is before me. Therefore, I am met in some invisible way, strengthened in my conviction, clearer in my intention, renewed in my knowing that as I go, spirit goes with me. Taking of oaths may seem a bit out of place in today’s world, but here lies a key. Most of us have a sense of connectedness to spirit but this often feels diffuse and separate from the situations and surroundings and relationships we find ourselves in. What is it that bridges this apparent split of realities, enabling us to embody a connection with spirit that infuses all of our sensibilities and actions, and shows up to work with us on Monday morning?

Whenever we willingly consecrate or dedicate ourselves to some purpose or cause, power is released. Like the taking of an oath, the act of commitment is the glue which joins our con­sciousness with whatever we commit to. The question then is, just what are we committed to?

It was Jessica Ferreira, who gave the gift of Traigh Bhan to the Foundation, who first introduced me to the white strand leading to these black stones. Although she has long passed into the other world, I often dream she visits me there. A number of years ago I dreamt we were walking back from the north shore to Traigh Bhan. “Remember,” she said, pointing to the house, “this is not the site of a holiday home, or a retreat house, but of an ordination centre.” As I reached out for her to tell me more she dissolved into light and was gone. Within the Christian tradition, ordination is that act of taking final vows and of being appointed into the office of the Christian ministry – wed to the body of Christ and into the living order of the Church, endowed with all of the sacramental authority this entails. In a broader context, we are ordained by the very nature of stepping into the fullness of our essential divinity. In this state, we are intimately connected to that source of life from which all springs. We then cannot help but act out of the well-being and celebration of that greater communal body – whatever name one gives it – of the world soul and universal order.

For me, this personally relates to Traigh Bhan and the purpose in which the sanctuary was dedicated. Originally consecrated as a planetary sanctuary, it was dedicated to the incoming energies of the Christ, to both receive and radiate the qualities needed for the age into which we were moving. Rededicated under Findhorn’s stewardship, the sanctuary became fully woven into the fabric of the etheric mantle of the planet, linking not only people and centres around the world, but also becoming an infusion point for aligning, nourishing and building the collective body of the future.

The sanctuary, in this sense, focuses that particular quality of Iona’s function, mentioned earlier in Part 1, as a place in which the imprint of the destiny of the world reverberates with what was, is, and in its seed potential, will be. It is this invisible order of new life that we are invited to be ordained into, wed to that spirit which serves the ongoing well-being of the whole. Such commitment authorises us to use our will, releasing the mediating power of our souls. Thus wherever we are, whenever we choose, we can act as everyday celebrants of the sacred, honouring each moment as a crucible for bringing forth what lies within.

For Roger and me, this has had very practical applications. Over the past 25 years, we have been fortunate to have worked with many diverse individuals and groups, as well as within numerous institutions and organisations, both on the margins of society and within the mainstream. Ten of these years were also spent travelling, involved in international work, particularly in South Africa, the former Soviet Union, and China. All of these experiences have been, in a sense, the temple of our learning and practice, opportunities where this invisible bond has proven itself.

Also, it has not been uncommon for the spirit of Iona to reach out and meet us, even in the most unlikely of places. Her presence stretches, breaking through to our awareness on a crowded street in Shanghai, a meeting room at the Department of Defence, on a walk through our neighbourhood, or resolving a family dispute. She reminds us to shift our perspective, to ask the deeper meaning of what is going on, to witness through the eyes of spirit, and to open the doors of that moment, that place, that situation to the connection and blessing of this greater life.

“It may be the most righteous ecological action we can take now is the cultivation of soul life, the life of texture, colour, character, and first hand experience; the meeting with life’s astonishing otherness on a daily basis; a life worth living in the here and now; a life of first hand desire that puts personal identity as an equal partner with personal survival; the life that is
sufficient through its own joining with the world it encounters; a life that does not need to use up everything it encounters in order to feel safe. “

David Whyte, from Earth & Spirit edited by Fritz Hull

In more recent years, Roger’s work has branched into the field of high level nuclear waste and environmental clean-up, and my own work has become more focused on in-depth work with individuals and small groups. We have come to see that the issues and challenges we are each dealing with, whether they be in the psyche of an individual or the corporate culture of Hanford Nuclear reservation, are in essence the same. We must stand alert to the forces which eclipse the creative human will – which is at great risk – stifling the individual voice in the face of collective bureaucracy. We must discern those influences that crystallise our thinking, polarise us emotionally, and entrap our sense of self-worth within those cultural beliefs and archetypes which hold us back from crossing the threshold into our maturity and freedom. What is needed is the ability to see and think in new and transformative ways, engaging those soul powers which mediate between each situation and its possibility, between each person and their potential.

centre Katherine & Roger Collis, Traigh Bhan Iona photo Mark Richards

Katherine and Roger Collis, Traigh Bhan, Iona, Photo Mark Richards.

Indeed, the spirit of the future is magnetic, as compelling if not more so, than the forces of habit and resistance to change. But it needs us to call it forth and give it expression. When we engage our will and ask for that spirit to be with us, it activates in the field all around us and within us, revealing the nature of what is, informing, and helping us see what can be done. Through qualities of joy, playfulness, honour and love; hardened positions soften, closed doors open, and seeds of new vision and hope take root. Even in the most desperate of situations, this grace can enter, mediate and break through, opening the way towards the highest outcome.

As we move into the next millennium, the world reaches out, calling us to bring forth the fullness of who we are, inviting us to use our human gifts as never before. History demands it of us. Together we must call forth the solutions, scenarios, and agendas for the healing, regeneration, and recreation of our world. This reflects not only in how we allocate the use of our resources, take action, and realign choices and lifestyles, but also in where we place our attention, use our imagination, and how we envision the future – creating the contexts and frameworks that can both synthesise and catapult our current human condition into the next order of possibility.

I am ever grateful to Iona, and places like Iona, that mirror to us not only our ability to serve the spirit and destiny of our world, but ordain us into our true power, that we may break beyond the limits of the impossible to become perceivers and summoners and celebrants of the possible. Perhaps, like the metaphor of the monks, the stage of preparation is over. The time has come to follow the call. Whether it is from the Isle of lona’s shores or from the interior isle of our dreams and inner knowing, the wind is up and it’s time to set sail.

Though we say farewell to the shore and cast ourselves to the elements, we are not alone. Like my initial vision of that ancient little island of great light, for all those individuals who have come and gone, who have returned to the home of the soul and set forth again, that light travels with them. Light after light, vision after vision, we are spreading out over the planet, and will do so until all the earth is ablaze with the brilliance of a destiny fulfilled, shining as a beacon through the vast reaches of the universe.

Katherine Collis

Read more of this three-part feature:

Iona: Summoning the Possible Part 1

Iona: Summoning the Possible Part 2