There are certain stories about Findhorn Foundation Cluny Hill, which I don’t think I will ever share, as they are so inexplicable and controversial. After all, Cluny Hill is also a mystery school, founded in the sign of Scorpio, and secrecy is often its cup of tea. What follows is a story about the veracity of which some readers may have strong reservations. This is legitimate since I also sometimes tend to question it, even though I was the direct protagonist.

The episode happened in the year 2000, shortly after the start of the first spring of the new millennium, at the beginning of April, around the New Moon in Aries. It had been just over a year since I first arrived in Cluny Hill, and I felt rather settled and integrated into the Community. As I was walking along one of the long corridors in Cluny, I felt drawn by a window. I had passed that window several times, without however experiencing any attraction. On that occasion, however, for the first time, I stopped and looked out, being very surprised by the view and the unusual perspective that could be seen from that point. Cluny Hill is located on the slopes of the south-eastern area of the hill of the same name, a spectacular forest set on the extreme outskirts of Forres. That window, on the ground floor between room number 21 and the door to the basement staircase, overlooks one of the most sloping points of the building. At first glance I was struck by the fact that, although I was on the ground floor, I was so high up compared to the territory that unfolded before my eyes. However, there was one detail that made the view amazing beyond all limits. What was most amazing, however, was my reaction to what I saw, which was devoid of any amazement. On one hand I realized that I was observing something truly paranormal, and here I was definitely more than amazed, yet on the other hand this appeared to me as something very normal, commonplace, which surprised me even more. So, what did I see? From that window, for a couple of minutes, down there, on the road that runs along the edge of Cluny Hill Gardens, fittingly called Edgehill Road, I saw myself one year before, on my first arrival in the area, walking along the edges of the building’s territory.

It was then a Friday, the eve of the Spring equinox, shortly after the New Moon in Aries, the day before the start of the Experience Week, the introductory program of the Findhorn Foundation. According to the instructions received in the letter confirming my stay from the Foundation’s administration, I could only go to Cluny the next morning, on Saturday, the day the week began, and not before. I had then booked a room in a nearby B&B to spend Friday night. Rather excited and agitated by the unknown of what would happen the next day, I decided to set off in the direction of Cluny Hill to have a first remote contact with the environment. I intended to walk around the property, without crossing its border in any way.

Edgehill Road photo Franco Santoro

Edgehill Road

I started my “boundary walk” from the northern side. As a matter of fact, you couldn’t see anything of the building from that side, because of the woods. However, the environment was enchanting, with enormous trees from which squirrels jumped from time to time, an air with a most adorable scent and a peace that pervaded everything in me. I couldn’t see the building, but I knew that it was a little further ahead and that at a certain point it would appear to me. While waiting for that moment, I felt a growing sense of amazement and sacredness. As the trail reached its eastern end it intersected a small carriage road, Edgehill Road, which descended to the south. After a while the building began to reveal itself.

As I walked, I mulled over what had brought me to that place. The decision to visit the Findhorn Foundation Community was in full harmony with a clear calling of my soul to which I had decided to surrender unconditionally. At the same time, strong feelings of embarrassment, shame and fear coexisted, which instigated me to backtrack and walk away. I progressed through alternating moments of serenity, wonder and light, followed by sharp resistances and fears, successively followed by waves of courage, and resolve that required me to remain at all costs faithful to my calling.

How heavy was my baggage of conflicts then! As I made my way along Edgehill Road I was walking right on the razor’s edge, at any moment I could flee forever or stay. Contemplating the grandeur of the building’s facades and its numerous windows, I wondered what kind of people lived in Cluny Hill, who the Community members were. Fantasizing about what would happen the next day, on the one hand, I projected scenes of loving and joyful welcome, seasoned with hugs and exquisite words, on the other I feared that some Community members, perhaps after a few hours or days, might glimpse nefarious truths about me of which I was unaware, retreating at my sight as if I were a poisonous snake and then asking me to leave. I looked carefully at every window to see someone. At the same time, I felt uneasy about the possibility of meeting someone’s gaze in the absurd fear that even looking around before the start of the week, even if staying on the edge of the property line, would be against Community etiquette. At a certain point, near one of the windows I saw the silhouette of someone, of whom I could see very little both due to the distance and my reticence to linger too long with my gaze. Nonetheless, an unstoppable magnetism gently invited me to linger on that window. Although I still couldn’t see the details of that person, what I perceived with utmost clarity was a profound sense of reassurance, acceptance and unconditional love that poured onto me from this mysterious character, so much so that it swept away every fear.

My innocence, my authentic light was guaranteed by that presence up there and only required my acceptance, which I gave in that moment with renewed trust. After a year, looking out the window and seeing myself, I understood that that person I had seen in the window was me, so I was seeing myself again, with the full awareness of how my life had changed in an unpredictably luminous way and in so little time. There I was walking on Edgehill Road, on the edge of Cluny Hill, while now I was inside Cluny Hill, on the ground floor, near the access to the basement and the lower areas of the building, therefore very rooted.

I made the decision to go to Findhorn with great courage and confidence, while a huge storm was raging inside and outside of me. From that window, reviewing the recent past, I understood how fragile the thread that led me to this place was. Yet, despite the initial difficulties, I finally managed to get there. What an accomplishment! That day, looking down from the window, I acknowledged this great achievement and how crucial my choice was. I felt an enormous sense of gratitude for my identity at the time. For a few minutes I passed beyond the temporal sphere, allowing myself to look at myself in the past.

Franco Santoro photo Franco Santoro

What a mystery this sense of self! Sometimes confused, lost in its countless multidimensional variations, in other circumstances, clear, luminous, in its original version, the only truly authentic one!

I feel profound gratitude for all the gifts I have received since I entered this mystery school, which for me is Cluny Hill. As I let my fingers slide across the computer keyboard, writing this article on the eve of another New Moon in Aries, I can feel the presence of another me somewhere, watching beyond time with tender compassion and indomitable support. I greet him and rejoice in anticipation of the next meeting.