A Play in Findhorn

Would you ever pay someone so that you could work for them? I did. I wanted to work the land in Findhorn and for a modest fee I worked in their vegetable garden.

As Findhorn is an eco-village in Scotland, it would have been hypocritical of me to catch a plane and so I travelled by ferry from Dublin to Holywell in Wales, caught various trains through England and Scotland until I arrived in Forres and finally caught a taxi to Findhorn. It was all rather wonderful. I like trains, you get to sit next to interesting strangers, have interesting chats and then get off at your station and wave them goodbye. Hats off to the Scottish Railway, having travelled on many trains in different parts of the world, the Scottish Railway is the Best.

So why did I travel to Findhorn? I wanted to be a part of their community, their commitment to sustainability and to experience working the land in collaboration with the intelligence of nature.

My timing was perfect, arriving prior to their Harvest Festival and enabling me to not only work the land but to participate in the actual Festival itself. Clad in black wellington boots and a yellow raincoat I worked in the vegetable garden and when it came time for the Harvest Festival I helped to decorate the cart in which the produce would be taken to the kitchen. The whole experience of working the land and participating in the Harvest Festival deepened my sense of reverence and connection to nature.

One evening I attended a play in the Universal Hall. If you’ve ever been to Newgrange (a megalithic passage tomb built about 3200 BC) in Ireland you would have noticed how the ancient builders placed the stones to create the inner passage and corbelled roof. The Universal Hall has a similar geodesic roof construction.

Sitting in this magnificant building and watching the play unfold, the sense of connection between the actors and the audience was almost tangible. We were living the experiences with the actors. We were feeling their pain.  When the play ended, the actors with the writer and the director, invited the audience for a drink and a chat in a nearby cafe. We moved to the café and the audience members immediately asked the writer about his inspiration for the play. He spoke of an article he had read and how it had moved him to share the story with others. The actors shared how they had breathed life into the characters and the director spoke of his craft, and also the strategies he had used to get funding to take the play to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. It was a friendly, welcoming atmosphere where everyone felt safe to be candid, both in asking questions and in answering them.

Walking back to my accommodation, I recalled being in a Q&A session for my own play in Connecticut and how forced and unnatural it had all been. Sitting on the stage whilst the audience asked questions, there had not only been a physical distance but also a psychological one. Here in Findhorn, we had all huddled together, coffee in hand and talked about the craft of writing like old friends at a reunion.

As a playwright I don’t have a say on how a Q&A session can be run, but if ever I do, I will revisit the evening at Findhorn.

Findhorn Foundation