Windgrove blur

Yesterday, late in the afternoon, a car drove into Windgrove. A couple in their late forties got out and I could immediately tell from their clothes that here was money. Also, a little out of place, as though they had just come from an opening night at the Sydney Opera House. Not quite suitable for a comfortable walk around Windgrove.

“Hi. We were told we had to see your place. We live at Whale Beach.” (For readers who don’t know, Whale Beach is an up market, trendy location north of Sydney.)

As they got ready to go on their walk (in the fading light, cold and gray), he reached into his pocket, pulled out a key ring, pressed a button and the car lights came on, signalling that all four doors and the boot/trunk had been locked.

Being that they had just come up my two kilometre driveway and would not have seen another human being, being that they had chosen to come to view the “Peace” Garden, and the “Peace” Fire and do the “Peace” Walk, and, being that I am obviously here all alone, his locking the car didn’t seem to exhibit much trust in either me, the founder and director of the Windgrove Centre, or the inherent “safeness” that powerfully resides in this landscape.

“Well,” I said, “I find it really interesting that you feel you have to lock your car.”

“Habit,” he said. “There’s nothing in the car. You can steal whatever you want.” But, he still kept it locked.

They started off on their walk. Within fifteen minutes they had returned, got into their car and drove off. Obviously, there wasn’t much here to interest them. It would have all been just a blur of little significance.

To me, their life choices had not prepared them to see the depth and beauty and power of what lies at the heart of Windgrove. An ontology of fear and mistrust not only “locks doors”, it closes the door on enriching experiences. Rather than opening a door to a new unfolding and understanding of life, one is kept in a tiny closet of tiny experiences.

My intention is not to pick on this one couple from Sydney, because the above locking of a car has happened more than once. What I have noticed, though, is that the more material wealth a person possesses, the more keys they carry to weigh them down.

What is needed to fully partake in the offerings of Windgrove is an ontology of trust: a willingness to abandon and leave behind one’s defenses and open up one’s heart to the vulnerability of one’s precious, and all too brief, life.

I am more than happy to give my time to anyone when they come to Windgrove because Windgrove’s purpose is to serve in helping to change our collective behaviour and attitude towards ourselves, each other and the larger living world.

I will go out of my way to give time to strangers and the unexpected guest.

My minimum and only request is that people who visit not lock their car doors.