Synthesist TWO - Will Parfitt

The Synthesist
JOURNAL OF PSYCHOSYNTHESIS
I S S U E N o . 2
THE FINDHORN JOURNAL
OR: A BIG INSIGHT INTO UNIVERSAL COMPASSION
Ash Charlton
An affectionate exploration of
The Findhorn Foundation,
its history, its characters, its
spirituality ... and the infinite
smugness of being.
Shakti Genaine
Ash Charlton runs Ace Consultancy, designs quality
games, writes novels and the wittiest travel journals.
The Synthesist • 2 • page 142
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One of the things I am often asked, along with how come I’m so astonishingly
fabulous, how I get paid so very much for doing so very little (talent, darling,
talent, there really is no substitute; lack of talent is just God’s way of saying you’re
going to have to work for a living) and what’s the recipe for my amazing tomato sauce
(which is so fantastic that straight guys have left their wives for it, or possibly that was the
bread-and-butter pudding), is how come I’m so insufferably smug and annoying.
Now this last is a tricky one, as, unlike all the others (including the tomato sauce) it
didn’t come to me naturally. No, once I was a snivelling bunch of insecurities just like
you are. But then I started my Big Smug Spiritual Practice, which basically consists
of taking time out every day to tell myself that I’m bloody fantastic and that everyone
who suggests otherwise is just evil scum talking out of envy and bitterness. I call this
meditation because it sounds more poncey, and makes it look like I’m doing that really
difficult stuff that Buddhists do.
Of course if I was just telling myself that I was totally marvellous I would be insane and
deluded, and anyway it wouldn’t work. People who try this kind of self-affirmation are
generally sad losers, simply because it falls foul of the following paradox:
Sad Person:
Sad Person:
Sad Person:
(a little desperately) I am wonderful, I am marvellous, I am not a sad loser
despite what my boss/lover/parents/friends/public opinion may say.
(to self) But the person who is saying all these things is just me, and I’m
a big sad loser, so how can I trust my opinion on anything
(back to self) Shut up and keep chanting.
To avoid this paradox, I pretend it is the Universe (the artist formerly known as God)
who is telling me these things in a dead spiritual way. Hey, it works for me.
So where did I learn this meditation of smugness I learnt it at the International Centre
for Smugness: the Findhorn Foundation. Okay, time for a picture:
.
(The main bit of road in the Findhorn Foundation, called the Runway because, back
when this was an aerodrome, Lancaster bombers used to take off along it. Given that it’s
only around a mile long I’m astonished they managed to get airborne; possibly this is an
example of an early Findhorn miracle, though the slope may also have helped)
The Synthesist • 2 • page 143
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The Findhorn Foundation (aka The International Centre for Smugness) is a New Age
Community (and NOT a den of hippies as you may have thought) near to a little village
called Findhorn, situated at the mouth of a river called Findhorn, by a natural harbour
which is called Findhorn bay. There’s a bit of a lack of imagination on the naming front
in this part of the world.
Now, if it were not for the Foundation, Findhorn would just be another of those strange
villages you get all along the North-East coast of Scotland, like Buckie and Burghead;
mostly famous for fish, inbreeding and a particularly toxic form of Christianity that only
the Scots are butch enough to believe in. In fact the Findhorn Foundation’s origins are
worryingly Christian rather than hippie, but you can’t hold that against them really. The
three founders all practised a proto-New-Age form of Christianity, and the most famous
of them, Eileen Caddy, claimed to be receiving messages directly from God, who seemed
to speak in the kind of phrasing you get in the King James Bible, which I can’t help
feeling was a bit unoriginal of Him.
Now most people would have dismissed her as a nutter, however, the truly irritating thing
is that she seemed to have a predictive faculty which came up trumps every time. She
predicted that the community would grow, and it did. She predicted that they’d need a
HUGE community centre for over 200 people (there were about 50 people living in the
community at the time), and they did (in fact they had to extend it later).
(the old bit of the Community Centre which everyone said was too big and would never
get used. Note architectural style; it’s a kind of Hippie Nouveau style that you get quite
a lot round the Findhorn Foundation and which is very pleasing on the eye if I say so
myself)
What’s worse, her mate Dorothy McLean, also received guidance - but this time from
nature spirits which, fortunately did not speak like the King James Bible; possibly they
hadn’t read it, or were more familiar with a later translation - giving her instructions on
how to grow a garden on the most rubbish soil ever (the Foundation is very close to the
beach, so the soil is that sand/salt mixture which is only usually good for growing those
tough hardy plants which rip your legs to bits), and with the help of Eileen’s husband,
started growing prize-winning vegetables on a bit of formerly barren land.
The Synthesist • 2 • page 144
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Now I’ve always remained unconvinced that growing big veg is really a miracle, even
though for a long time it was the main thing the Foundation was famous for, and people
flocked from all around the world to gasp at the giant cabbages etc. God, didn’t these
people have lives Or at least televisions The thing is, all sorts of people grow big veg;
my stepdad Barry is particularly good at it, and as far as I’m aware he’s never started a
major religious movement.
But for all that giant vegetables aren’t really proof of spirituality, people started coming
to the Foundation, working on the garden and community and paying for the privilege,
which really helped with the old balance of payments, as well as doing the place up a bit.
So, thanks to the spiritual inspiration of these two women, plus a lot of work from the
other people that went to study with them, these days the Foundation is a big sprawling
land-owning community, which is really not doing all that badly for a religious movement
that began in a caravan.
(The original caravan where it all started. Hey, it could be worse; it’s not like it’s a stable
or something. Note also the lovely Findhorn Foundation Garden where I have personally
shovelled shit as part of the Findhorn Slave Economy. It was very spiritual)
Now I know what you’re thinking; isn’t this one of those evil cult things where the
founder manages to have sex with every single one of his followers before going totally
barmy, buying Rolls Royces and then going on to commit mass suicide
Well, I’d have to say no. Dorothy McLean no longer lives in the community; she went
back to Canada where she definitely isn’t head of a cult. Eileen stayed, but refused to
share any more of God’s messages (privately I’ve always suspected God wasn’t talking
to her anymore; possibly she forgot his birthday), and refused to be a Big Spiritual
Leader, leaving the Foundation to govern itself in a fashion not unlike a big tenant’s
association. Whilst this has had dire effects on the Giant Vegetables front, it has meant
that Foundation has managed to keep itself together where many other cult-y type things
have foundered in sexual and financial scandals. Of course that also means it’s kind of
dull, and every so often some crackpot turns up at the Foundation saying that it has lost
the true way and that they (the crackpot) have personally come to show them the light,
have sex with all of them and buy Rolls Royces. Strangely, the Foundation has never
succumbed to the temptation of such individuals and remains democratically governed.
The Synthesist • 2 • page 145
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So, returning to my theme, it was at the Foundation that I learned the ancient mystical
techniques for being insufferably smug the whole time, and which are the stuff of my
daily meditations. However there is more to the Foundation than irritating smugness; it’s
grown over the years and diversified, and now has all sorts of interesting bits. One of the
most interesting bits is my friend, the astonishingly talented Brian Nobbs…
(my friend Brian Nobbs, who I met the night I met Douglas. Here he is paternally
surveying his most recent batch of creations, fresh out of the kiln)
Brian ran the pottery at Findhorn (I think the existence of a successful pottery was
another of Eileen’s predictions; she really is terribly good you know) from its foundation.
These days he’s retired from running it and spends his time turning out these lovely
ceramics, painting marvellous pictures and creating the most beautiful Tarot deck I’ve
ever seen. In his spare time he manages a big property out in the country.
I always love dropping in on Brian because
a) he’s good for a gossip and a bitch, the way queens usually are
b) I get to see his most recent work
c) he always makes tea
d) he’s frequently on one of those weird diets which involve eating entire herds
of cattle but which forbid carbohydrates, which is all to the good as it means he
doesn’t nick all the biscuits unlike Certain Other Members of the Bear Persuasion
closer to home who seem to inhale the bloody things.
On this particular occasion Douglas and I were doing a rapid tour of the Foundation in
order to get pictures for this journal, as I’m constantly doing charity work to bring a bit
of fabulousness into the lives of the needy (that’s you), so we couldn’t spend too long in
the pottery, wonderful place though it is and officially sanctioned by God, so we set off
to photograph the best bits of the Foundation. On the way, Douglas acquired a Spirit
Guide…
The Synthesist • 2 • page 146
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(Douglas plus Visionquest Mystical Spirit Guide Guardian Animal in the form of a tabbyand-white
moggy. This creature adopted Douglas and followed us around most of the
foundation, before buggering off when it smelt food. At least it didn’t start talking like
the King James Bible: I hate it when that happens)
…which stayed with us as far as Bag End, some early wood-constructed eco-houses…
(Douglas sitting outside one of the pretty Bag End houses. Note Hippie Nouveau style.
Note also Visionquest Mystical Spirit Guide Guardian Animal licking private parts; a
spiritual lesson I hope Douglas doesn’t take to heart)
In fact, even apart form the Hippie Nouveau stuff, there are lots of buildings of
interesting design around the Foundation, including the famous Whisky Barrel houses…
The Synthesist • 2 • page 147
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(Whisky Barrel Houses, made, amazingly enough, from, wait for it, old whisky barrels
once the drowned Scotsmen had been removed)
…the most interesting and twee of which must be the Nature Sanctuary…
(Nature Sanctuary looking like a place wherein a hobbit might dwell in unimaginable
squalour. Note Douglas, an empty shell of a man, bereft of his Visionquest Mystical Spirit
Guide Guardian Animal which was tempted away by a tin of Whiskas)
In fact the interior of the Nature Sanctuary is even nicer…
The Synthesist • 2 • page 148
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(even nicer interior of Nature sanctuary with soft lines and pretty pattern on floor which
is probably dead symbolic of something or other)
People are supposed to come and meditate here, though in fact almost nobody does as
it’s usually full of tourists. Instead they go and meditate in the main Sanctuary…
(Ash, practising the Insufferable Smugness of Being in the main Sanctuary; not a great
work of architecture like the Nature Sanctuary; just a plain cedarwood building, but
excellent for smugness)
My friends and family seem to regard the whole meditating malarky as yet another of
the weird things that I derive pleasure from (e.g. vegetarianism, homosexuality, having
friends), and are happy for me to just get on with. Douglas has a similar attitude, and
particularly approves of mediation as a) it makes me more mellow; useful for when he’s
being particularly exasperating (which would be most of the time…) and b) it gives him
a chance to sneak off and eat cake…
The Synthesist • 2 • page 149
www.psavalon.com

(Douglas observing his own spiritual practice of Cake while Ash gets in contact with his
Inner Smugness elsewhere. This is the main Findhorn café which seems to have a new
name every time we go there, but which does a decent cup of coffee and never serves dry
gagging lesbian cake as so many veggie places do, but instead makes stuff out of proper
things like over-refined foods and calories)
The café is round the back of one of the prettiest Foundation buildings, the Universal
Hall…
(The Universal Hall; apotheosis of the Hippie Nouveau style, with poncy stained glass
in the shape of wings and everything. It’s just a big community space where they put on
conferences and stuff really, but one of the prettiest I’ve been in)
We took loads more photos than this, but when I was on a course at the Foundation once
I had a Big Insight into the Universal Nature of Compassion so I’ve decided to spare
you. It really is a pretty place though, with a wonderful atmosphere and a strange, almost
indefinable quality, which would of course be the smugness. Ah, what would I be without
it Well, I’d be you, probably, so thank the Universe (aka God) for the smugness, that’s
all as I can say.
R
The Synthesist • 2 • page 150
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