Finding Community at Redfield

Photo credit: Howard Davies

Our first welcome to England came from the trees. Soaring tall and spreading grandly, they reflected the hospitality of the climate we had entered. The landscape here felt like a jungle, with all of Scotland's wetness but none of its chill in the air. As we walked toward Redfield Community, we relished the tangle of berry-speckled bushes, trees, and vines that bordered the road. Even more than we realized, we had been missing this lushness, which now spilled into us like water, soothing and nurturing.

This feeling of homecoming only increased as we were welcomed into Redfield, an intentional community of 16 adults and 7 children. We had chosen to WWOOF here in order to experience the ins and outs of community living and see if we might like to make this lifestyle part of our own future. For the next two weeks, we would live with the Redfield Community in their big, beautiful red brick estate house from the 19th century, set among 17 acres of trees, pasture, and gardens. After being on the move and sleeping in a tent for five weeks, we were ready for a little slice of “home.” Real beds, real walls, and a real roof, but also a place to root ourselves in community and find our daily rhythms. With anticipation, we rang the buzzer on the front door of the house and after a moment one of the long term members arrived to welcome us inside. After some tea and breakfast together, he gave us a walking tour of the house and grounds.

In addition to the 23 human members of Redfield, there is also the quirky old character of the house itself, telling dreamy-eyed tales of its grand youth. It was born in the glory days of wealthy English gentry, first built in the 1840s and expanded greatly in the 1880s. Although today the brick face of the house no longer has the smooth glow of newness, and vines and grasses have begun to devour the pathways, it was still easy to imagine it in its heyday: carriages of important people arriving in the circle out front, horses neighing in the extensive stable compounds, princes dancing in the ballroom, servants scurrying about, and people strolling through the genteel walled gardens. (Julia couldn’t help but populate it with images from Downton Abbey). As the house grew older, it watched the decline of this extravagant way of life during the 1930s, and in WWII devoted itself to the war effort along with many of its fellow estate houses. Next, it continued to follow the trendy path and became a welfare nursing home ward. But in the late 1970’s, after the old folks had left, the Redfield house was feeling empty and searched for a new identity. It caught the experimentation bug, reinventing itself as the home of the Redfield intentional community.

So, how does an intentional community work? Although there are many models, Redfield has chosen to structure itself as a “housing cooperative” where the members are both the landlords and the renters. In contrast, at Findhorn each person purchases their own separate house. While Findhorn felt like a friendly small town, Redfield felt more intimately integrated like a big extended family. Although neither structure is inherently better or worse, we personally resonated more with the closeness of the Redfield Community. Although everybody has private living quarters on the second and third floors of the big house, the heart and soul of community life exists on the communal first floor, particularly in the kitchen and dining area. There were often at least a few people milling about – the children having their after school snack, people making sandwiches for work, reading the newspaper, or chatting over a cup of tea. Sharing these spaces seemed like a great way for everyone to stay connected in their day to day life, with those frequent in-passing interactions nourishing the web of community.

In addition to their shared gathering spaces, Redfielders also share communal meals every day. We heard again and again that this practice is one of the central pillars pulling the community together. Every weekday dinnertime and weekend lunchtime, at the sound of the bell we would all line up in the kitchen, serve ourselves buffet style, and sit down together amidst the sound of lively banter and scraping forks. With everyone coming together to share meals, the basic daily rhythm of eating became not just a time to fill up, but also a time for the community to connect amidst their busy lives. We also appreciated the efficiency of communal meals. Each Redfielder signs up to cook about twice a month, and the rest of the time gets to enjoy a great diversity of delicacies made by other creative cooks. Every day we savored made-from-scratch meals, everything from Moroccan tagine to quiche to butternut squash soup. At other times, people made big batches of jam and baked loaves of fresh bread for the community. This was yet another example of the way community living can enrich life beyond what one person would have the time or energy to do on their own.

Another appeal of community living is its economical nature. Benefits such as buying food in bulk, sharing a laundry machine, and not having to pay a mortgage or landlord all mean that many Redfielders only need to work part time to sustain themselves. While some of the other communities we had originally looked into for WWOOFing bring in their own income by hosting retreats, workshops, and conferences, Redfield does not have its own income stream so everyone works off-site. This has both pros and cons. A couple of Redfielders who had spent time in those economically self-sustaining communities said that although they are a great fit for some people, it wasn’t their personal preference as it felt like “living at work,” with everyone was ready to hole up into their private lives by the end of the day. In contrast, Redfield feels purely like home. On the flip side, off site jobs mean that Redfielders don’t spend as much time working and being together as they otherwise might. In any case, as we try to imagine how we ourselves might like to earn a living, it was fun to hear about the huge diversity of occupations that Redfielders have pieced together. It ran the full spectrum: piano tuner, HR manager, yoga teacher, tailor, photographer, marquee and yurt sales, environmental consulting, community arts, construction… In all cases, Redfielders were happy that community living allows them extra hours to pursue personal projects in addition to their paid work. We love this ideal of living simply and filling our days with activities that nourish ourselves and the world around us.

Behind all these attractive parts of community living, how does the nitty gritty actually work? Every two weeks, Redfielders come together for a meeting where decisions are made by consensus. Although we weren’t able to attend a meeting, the members we talked with valued the community’s general ability to work through issues in a respectful manner. Another important aspect of Redfield is how all the work actually gets done. Every member signs up for a few community jobs on a yearly rotating basis, jobs like WWOOF coordinator, treasurer, compost manager, website manager, bulk food orderer... We could imagine it being a challenge to make sure everyone pulls their weight equitably, but in our conversations with Redfielders it never came up as being a significant problem.

Now that you have a picture of the workings of Redfield, you might be wondering about the “why” behind it all. What unites the Redfield community? We thought back to Findhorn, whose ethos had been more distinctive and easier to pick up on than that of Redfield. Curious, we asked different members what defines their community. Although of course people had different emphases, the answer that kept coming up was: community living, in and of itself. Although Redfield has a “green” inclination with its solar panels, biomass boiler, recycling, gardens, and environmentally conscious food and product purchasing, community living is really the heart and soul of it all. It intrigued us that a community can hold together so well without a strong shared ideology or religion to rally around. In fact, one member recalled asking one of Redfield’s founders what holds it together, and he responded that the very lack of a central ideology does! Instead, what holds the community together is individual members’ commitment to the entity of Redfield itself. We did appreciate the total lack of any dogma or cultishness, and simply felt comfortable and at home at Redfield.

We felt especially at home in the gardens, the delightful pillar of our WWOOF work. The garden was overflowing with vegetables, herbs, fruit trees, flowers, and weeds, all embodying full end-of-summer bounty. At Redfield each member has their own little plot which they tend to in addition to their paying jobs and community responsibilities. If we lived at Redfield, we could imagine ourselves struggling a bit with the somewhat uncoordinated and chaotic feel of the gardens. Nevertheless, they were still a source of beauty and bounty for the spirit as well as the kitchen. We savored everything from veggie stir fry to beetroot cake, while vases of elegant gladioli and cheery zinnias graced the dining table. The garden was also a place for us to connect with many different community members as we helped them in their individual plots. As we uprooted old sunflower trunks, slashed pathways clear, picked beans, and cleaned out the chicken pen, these conversations helped us understand the many facets of community living on a deeper level.

One morning we spent digging potatoes. Our host emphasized that for him, food is the lifeblood of Redfield community. Although Redfield produces only a small segment of its own food, he still finds value in the measure of self reliance that having a garden declares. Growing it, cooking it, and eating together all strengthen the community’s connection with nature and with each other. We could feel this magic as we dug the potatoes, the soil giving birth to those earthly gems with every upturned forkful. Amidst all the troubles in the world, he finds hope in these simple acts, in a community’s ability to come together towards a more wholesome way of being.

In addition to all the benefits of community living, as we worked and relaxed with Redfielders we also learned about its challenges.  While living under one roof keeps the community tight-knit by default, when conflicts do arise this setup does not allow for much breathing room or emotional respite. Some of the members expressed that they would actually prefer slightly more independent living spaces to give them more personal space to restore and live their own lives. At the same time, this would come with the tradeoff of less usage of community spaces and the physical proximity bonding that goes along with it. This made us imagine where we might find our own balance along this spectrum. Would we like to have our own homestead and be surrounded by friendly neighbors? Or would we prefer to live under the same roof as our community and see them on a daily basis?

Community living also means you have to give up the control to micromanage everything exactly the way you want it. At Redfield there were lots of unfinished projects all over the place, piles of random things in closets and outbuildings, and tools were always wandering off. It seemed like it would be an overwhelming job to keep everything in order with so many people and projects passing through over the years. Still, if you are able to go with the flow, the benefits of community living felt to us like they would far outweigh the challenges. The people we talked with acknowledged that once they look past the small frustrations of butter dishes left uncovered for the flies or dirty dishes abandoned on the counter, Redfield is actually a remarkably functional community. Indeed, it was easy to sense this positive energy all around us.

This good atmosphere made us feel especially energized to contribute our small part to the community. In addition to the scattered projects around the gardens and grounds, we enjoyed cruising around the orchard with wheelbarrows and crates, loading them up with windfall apples in preparation for cider making. There was something immensely satisfying about gathering in the autumn bounty. And it wasn’t only the apple trees that were laden with fruit. Damson trees dangled their little plums temptingly. Raspberries ripened into dazzling reds. Pears swelled and dropped. Thickets of wild blackberry plants draped themselves on the hedges, glittering with black jewels. We spent one afternoon entangling ourselves in their thorns in pursuit of berries for a big batch of jam. The abundance touched not only our hearts and minds, but also resonated with a deeper primal yearning in our core. The fruits drew our gaze and wouldn’t let it go until we ate just one, or two, or handfuls and handfuls as we abandoned ourselves to the joyful animal rhythm of the sweet late summer feast.

The little woodland behind the gardens was soothing as well in its lushness. Cedar, oak, beech, chestnut, walnut, and even a few giant redwoods from America cradled us in a green dome. Whenever our minds had turned into a cluttered haze from too many hours working on the blog, planning our transportation routes, or researching our next destination of India, the little wood welcomed us into its serenity. The moist air tousled the leaves overhead, making the specks of sky above glitter like an array of stars. The noise of the busy A-road nearby was replaced with the rhythmic coo of doves and the bright melodies of songbirds. As we walked the loop and felt ourselves renewed, we were reminded yet again that having a meditative natural space makes us feel at home. Part of the joy of traveling is the excitement of discovering new places and expanding our minds; but the more subtle experiences of finding peace in nature and calm rhythms have been just as spiritually nourishing.

Not only in the gardens and woods but also among the community of Redfield we discovered this feeling of “being held.” One woman told us how she broke down crying at one of her first meetings as a member of Redfield, feeling silly but expressing how she had never felt so safe before. Although Redfielders live their own lives, they also work together, celebrate together, and help each other out. Even during our short two week stay, we were warmly embraced into the family and got to experience all the ins and outs of life. There were the memorable moments: stringing up balloons and streamers for a birthday celebration, getting centered at a Qi Gong class, Julia trying and disliking fish and chips for the first time, grooving at vinyl night at the local pub, sweating ourselves to purity in the sauna. More subtle but just as instructive were the daily moments: joining the dance of up to 20 people helping to clean up the kitchen, meeting the stream of family members and friends coming to visit Redfielders, spending quiet evenings in the community lounge (pretty much unused except by us), and simply sharing a space and observing the rhythms of life.

Our last day arrived all too soon, but we had a fun event to round out our stay: apple pressing! Six pairs of hands turned out for the party, and a few hours later we had transformed our stacks of apple crates into 200 liters of apple cider. On our lips, the sweet tangy nectar tasted like the pure essence of fall. The seasons had just begun to turn, with the pure wind carrying the first breath of autumn. That evening, we sat around a campfire with a couple of our hosts looking out at the drizzly night. With the warm glow of the fire tingling in our faces, we reflected on the feeling of home we had found at Redfield. We really enjoyed our time here, and by the end of our stay we were able to picture ourselves happily sinking roots into a place very much like Redfield. The next morning we walked down the driveway into the mist, looking forward to sampling more intentional communities in our UK travels.