[this post is  an amended and expanded  version of the chapter with the same title in my book We Are Me: A Life with Dissociative Identities]

“An intentional community is a group of people who have chosen to live together with a common purpose, working cooperatively to create a lifestyle that reflects their shared core values. The people may live together on a piece of rural land, in a suburban home, or in an urban neighborhood and they may share a single residence or live in a cluster of dwellings.” (https://www.ic.org/foundation-for-intentional-community/)

In my 20s with an injured bird photo Helen Rubin

Before my time in Hawaii, I had met Jim, a New Zealand organic farmer who played classical music to his vegetables and told me they thrived because of that. He’d planted another greenhouse at the same time with other beans as a control, but they didn’t grow as well; though the conditions – water, diffused light, and feeding were the same. Meeting Jim was a memorable encounter as he spoke about the Findhorn Community in northern Scotland, which had bountiful gardens because of the gardeners’ cooperation with nature.

Then Jim told me he thought I would go there one day. His words stayed with me and upon leaving Hawaii, it gave me a direction to pursue. During my first week in London, I attended a talk by the founders of the Findhorn Foundation in Scotland. Being warmly greeted by Peter and Eileen Caddy was a surprise, but there was an immediate rapport with both of them. They seemed genuinely interested in me, and our conversation flowed.

Within a week, I took a train north to participate in an Experience Week in the Findhorn community, but with no great expectations of the place. However, on arrival, the vibrancy of the environment struck me – the beautiful surroundings of the enclave along the Scottish coast, the lush gardens, and the friendliness of everyone who lived there were novel. The center had expanded from the original group in the early 1960s, and approximately three hundred members from about thirty-five countries lived there in 1976. Up to one hundred summer guests visited each week and participated in various programs. The place had a ‘buzz’ and a ‘magic’ feeling; visitors described a sense of coming home. In the Findhorn Community, there was no guru or special teacher; and the only rules were no illegal drugs or smoking of cigarettes inside communal buildings.

The life seemed simple but had aspects that appealed to me, including bountiful, mainly vegetarian meals in the community center, group meditations, and a focus on cooperative living. To my relief, it was nothing like the communes I’d seen in the United States. I joined a week-long workshop with eighteen people of all ages from different countries and backgrounds. Doing tasks in work departments brought me into contact with community members, including many seniors who had lived there for more than ten years. It had been an idea of mine to travel on to Australia, but my parts all agreed that it could happen in the future, and joining the community became my aim.

During that week, I spent time with both Peter and Eileen, and they made it clear it would work out for me to stay there if it was meant to be. However, during an interview with Mary from Personnel, she was adamant that there wasn’t a space for me in the community at that time. I haughtily declared that if becoming a member immediately was impossible, I planned to return to live nearby until it was possible to join. After returning to London to arrange more funds, I felt anxious about my interactions with Mary. I wrote a letter to her apologizing for my pigheadedness but explaining that there was a certainty in me that I had a lot to contribute and was meant to live in the Findhorn Community. When I met Mary a couple of weeks later, it seemed that my joining the community would work. She explained that, somewhat miraculously, a work opportunity and accommodation space had opened up, and it seemed to Personnel that rare occurrence was a sign it was right for me to become a member.

I felt a profound sense of relief with being able to remain at the Findhorn Community. I learned that Peter had wanted me to stay as he saw me as very intuitive. He was drawn to people he considered psychic, wanting their input on his decisions. However, Eileen cautioned me that Peter had to turn within to find his own answers. Eileen’s recorded guidance from what she termed the God within, published in many pamphlets and books, had directed the community until a few years before my arrival. Peter told me he missed those explicit messages. While spending time with the Caddy was rewarding, I knew that it was essential for me to find my own path. So once settled in my accommodation, I immersed myself in work, in the office answering correspondence and booking accommodation. Though I had hoped to work in the gardens, the new role suited me.

Other people in the community told me that Peter hardly spoke to them and was authoritarian but we seemed to get along well. Though one day when I was working late as I’d become the office manager, Peter entered while I was finishing up last minute tidying. He then stated that it was important that all the correspondence be organized according to country as he and Eileen were “going about their world work now” traveling and giving talks and that way it would be easy to contact interested people. This was decades before databases and computers were in use and we had many large file cabinets with thousands of letters from people. I refused to agree to his request but Peter ignored my response and asked how soon the task could be accomplished. So I explained that every time we wanted to find a person, we could not look through all the country files trying to locate them. Peter looked at me and did not argue further and never asked again. In fact, his respect for me seemed to increase and he later told me that he thought people who had the responsibility for a work department should make the decisions.

While residing in the Findhorn Community, my confidence increased. Speaking about my inner promptings and deep thoughts was valued. I felt safer than usual, possibly because the people there were warm and caring while the environment buzzed with possibilities. I especially liked the simple Sanctuary, adorned only with a woven rainbow panel; and where group community meditations were held twice daily for twenty minutes. There was a time of silence after someone had read an inspiring quote. When I meditated there, a sense of the light that had looked after me during my life filled me. Though the communal life there did take some getting used to, as being around many people was hard for me, as were some of the novel ideas. In the community, there was a focus on the New Age, and discussions of past lives, devas, angels, and nature spirits were all part of conversation.

I liked Eileen and Peter’s focus on being positive, committing to world change, and caring for the environment. Eileen easily spoke about God and Christ consciousness, which made spirituality and such awareness a normal part of life. However, my not dealing with negative feelings aligned with Peter’s outlook and helped me to continue to justify being detached from my emotions. Though one day, Eileen expressed a concern that I seemed to have an emotional wall around me, and her honesty led me to think about my feelings. After that we talked openly about our lives, though I never did tell her about my childhood abuse experiences.

I also struggled with everyone hugging each other and just became stiff and waited for the embrace to end. Continuing to work long hours and meditating a lot seemed easier than trying to work out another way of being. While I made lifelong friendships and was caring toward others, being hard on myself continued. When winter came, I began experiencing a stiff neck and pains in my upper back and neck. Changing from a desk job and joining the Personnel Department helped, and I was put in charge of arranging accommodation for the members and participated in interviewing prospective members.

During the next few years, I became even closer to Peter and Eileen, and those relationships evolved into long-lasting friendships. They treated me like a daughter or a special valued companion. Peter was keen to talk about the Findhorn type of community, and I was able to join them, even after I left the community in touring in Europe, the US, New Zealand, and Australia. The last tour was possible because someone lent me the money for the international airfares. Eileen presented workshops, including guided visualizations, and participants shared their deepest thoughts and dreams.

Both Peter and Eileen could be very supportive, and they helped many individuals to find meaning and overcome problems. On one occasion while touring a famous musician asked to speak with Peter and he told those of us on tour with him. We were excited but Peter had never heard of him. After their private talk Peter told me he was impressed by all that the Northern Irish musician had accomplished but that he had only told the man to turn within and would not give him personal advice. And while flying in a small 6-seater plane on one occasion we hit an electrical storm and I was clenching the seat while the plane was tossed about. The only calm person was Eileen who just told everyone to stay calm and enjoy the ride! I admired her courage and it helped me to cope.

I thought that living in the Findhorn Community for many years would be possible. But, after a couple of winters, a circulation problem called Raynaud’s Syndrome caused my toes and fingers to throb with pain. A local doctor informed me that living in such a chilly climate was very unhealthy for me as my body could not tolerate the cold of a Scottish winter. Shortly after receiving that diagnosis, I went with Peter, Eileen, and another community member on a lecture circuit to many cities in Australia. I felt a deep connection to the land and especially the Indigenous people. I especially appreciated their philosophy about belonging to the land and being its guardians rather than the owners of the natural environment.

With Eileen Caddy in my flat in Maui, Hawaii photo Helen Rubin

Then after four years in the community, I returned to Hawaii to save some money for a move ‘down under’ to Australia in the near future. Coincidentally, a couple dozen of us who had lived in the Findhorn community ended up renting homes within a few miles of each other on the Island of Maui. We had not collectively planned this move, yet it was good to live near like-minded friends. Even Peter moved to Maui for some months. His health improved through participation in a residential health program I managed at a beachside hotel. He became an even more important person in my life in the next few years, and he was always kind and supportive of me. Peter was energetic and voiced profound ideas, which have stayed with me since. His emphasis on being true to oneself while having the courage to try new things still resonates, as do his words, “Learn to love what you do, the people you are with, and the place you are.”

In Germany with Peter Caddy, myself and son Paul photo Helen Rubin

In the early 1990s, I assisted Peter with writing his autobiography, and he told me a lot about his childhood. But sadly, the draft that was full of self-reflection was not published in the final book. The manuscript was changed to omit his feelings about many things, such as his difficult childhood. His father was strong-willed but abusive. He made Peter and his sister Joan fast one Christmas because they had mild colds. Sometimes, they were forced to take nude sunbaths in the front yard, behind a small hedge, and Peter always worried someone on the street might see them. Also, he was critical of anything Peter did. His father’s treatment of him affected all his relationships and he revealed to me it led him to neglect his children because he feared becoming like his father. However, in his last years, Peter made an effort to find and thank people who had helped build the community and revealed his shortcomings and love for his sons to them.

Likewise, Eileen never revealed some aspects of her life in her autobiography to spare her first children the truth of why she had left their father Andrew. She had never intended to leave them but when Andrew had learned of her intentions he stopped her from taking them. I was fortunate to get to know both Peter and Eileen outside of the community and to witness their generosity, kindness and caring for others. For example, when my son was a couple years old we planned to move from southern Queensland to Cairns, a drive of a few days. Eileen was on tour in Australia and she decided to come with us. I had not told her the car didn’t have air-conditioning and it was the peak of summer. She just fanned herself and told me stories about growing up in Egypt. When we got to Cairns she stayed in a hotel and a cyclone struck but all she reported was how exciting it was to see palm trees flying past her window.

Thus, I learned a lot about courage, resilience and love from both Peter and Eileen and am very grateful for the many friends I made during my time in the community.

***

We Are Me: A Life with Dissociative Identities – I have self-published the book on Amazon – please click here to order it.

Photo credits: Helen Rubin, except the featured image from the Findhorn Foundation – from the late 1970s, I’m sitting between Kate Martin and Joanie Hartnell-Beavis in the front row.

Helen Rubin

I have been a resident of many countries: US, Canada, Mexico, UK, New Zealand and am now an Australian citizen and a Nana, living in WA. I’ve worked in health, education and welfare mainly with Indigenous peoples.