Kirsty was my friend, my teacher, my family during my years living at Newbold. I feel overwhelming joy and love for sharing a brief moment of her life with her; what a blessing. I’m grateful to have shared food, shared joy, shared pain, shared laughter. I feel incredible gratitude to have known her.
I lived alongside her for 4 years at Newbold. We joined the community the same year. We spent many hours laughing at the ridiculous moments community life throws at you. She had a funny way of feeling and epressing everything in the same moment (I remember watching her transition from the most gentle moment of compassion to saying ' In summary, It's all a bit fucking shit' and laughing through it, all within moments of each other.)
She would mischievously find humour in everyday life. I will never forget watching her chasing a sheep past the dining room window minutes before an open garden morning event 🤣. I will remember being enchanted by her as I passed the garden one morning to see her singing and dancing.
(Photo by Kevin Curtis; taken 2018)
She taught me to let myself truly feel and express my vulnerability, to find moments of peace, to see beauty in the simple things, to slow down. She brought me joy. She was gentle. She was patient. And occasionally she was fierce; I loved that about her.
She made everyone welcome. She accepted people how they were. She loved them, nourished them, nurtured them. Despite her own struggles and whatever she had going on; she was always present with those around her. There are many lives shaped by her wisdom and by her care. It’s been a blessing to share those moments. We bonded over a desire to see Newbold spread its wings into the wider Forres community. Helping to run garden open days, harvest festival and outreach events in town. She wanted to share her life with people, she embodied the essence of community.
She had a gift to listen with her heart. She could spot your pain, fear and sadness and be witness to that free from judgement… she just allowed you to be. She felt it with you because she had that same pain, sadness and fears of her own. She would glance across a dining room table, and check in with you just with her eyes.
She danced through the ups and downs, letting it sweep her through life with elegance and grace. (and an occasional swear word).
In the breath of the wind, the feeling of sun on skin, in the trees, in the birdsong, she is there with us. Always.