The first thing we did was sit down to define "community." Well, after packing our bags, shipping overseas, and landing on a quiet mile wide island off the west coast of Scotland. At this point, there was still an unsettled feeling in my stomach, still some doubt. I was not sure if I wanted to be here. Maybe I should have "forgotten" my passport. Our destination was the mystical, religious, and supposedly magical island, Iona, home to the great kings of Scotland, and even to MacBeth. We came as a youth group, friends from the earliest moments of childhood, and left, well, as a youth group. We also left as a family, in the figurative sense, and we carried indelible memories along with the sandy pebbles in our pockets.
Iona (colmkill in MacBeth) was discovered by Irish exile Saint Columba, and fast became a pilgrimage site for Christians everywhere. 
As the monastery and later the famed Abbey began to take form, Iona established itself as a place to strengthen one's bond with divine faith. But Iona was more than this to me. Iona was more than Ancient History, and relics, and names that I cannot pronounce. It was more than religious revival and more than tradition. Iona was home. I connected to the land on a spiritual level that I still have not figured out, however, I believe my connection to extend past religion. Iona was resilience, both to me, and in definition. After the Reformation, Iona rose from the ashes, and today stands strong as ever, making more magic.
As the monastery and later the famed Abbey began to take form, Iona established itself as a place to strengthen one's bond with divine faith. But Iona was more than this to me. Iona was more than Ancient History, and relics, and names that I cannot pronounce. It was more than religious revival and more than tradition. Iona was home. I connected to the land on a spiritual level that I still have not figured out, however, I believe my connection to extend past religion. Iona was resilience, both to me, and in definition. After the Reformation, Iona rose from the ashes, and today stands strong as ever, making more magic. We stayed at the MacLeod center, run by the Iona Community. The first night, we joined with others and defined community. What is community? How can we develop one? Apparently, we would become a group of frequently interacting people, that have mutual respect and share common goals. We would become friends and work to provide each other with a functioning and decent way of life. A loving, caring, and respectful way of life, where tasks are completed in a timely fashion and without complaint. 
A community. It strikes me now how similar our definition of "community" is to the definition of family. We all tried to accomplish this, and by the end of the week, we had. We had made great strides, and our former selves were unrecognizable. Imagine what one could do in a lifetime if only he fostered these same relationships, put forth this same effort, for forty, sixty, eighty years.
A community. It strikes me now how similar our definition of "community" is to the definition of family. We all tried to accomplish this, and by the end of the week, we had. We had made great strides, and our former selves were unrecognizable. Imagine what one could do in a lifetime if only he fostered these same relationships, put forth this same effort, for forty, sixty, eighty years. We were expected to fulfill daily housekeeping responsibilities. We spent time cleaning "toilettes," bathrooms, showers, hallways, bedrooms, and common rooms. We washed windows, dusted furniture, exchanged old, wet towels for warm new ones. We worked in chore groups, named after animals native to the island. Seals, otters, puffins. More ties between our actions and the community. They taught us a song. It went "come with me, for the journey is long." It was lyrical, beautiful. It embodied the theme of our trip, the theme of sermons, the theme of English classes, the theme of philosophers, the theme of Life.
None of us had watches. Sometimes we got into trouble, but it was better that way. One of the best feelings in the world is having nothing to do. In Iona, we had lots of free time, that spanned entire golden afternoons, raspberry sunsets, and nights. Nights of eggplant skies, dotted with intricate patterns of stars, and air so crisp that it hurts to breathe in. We were free to come and go as we pleased, as long as we signed out a small, worn leather book. The second morning of our stay, we were drawn to the 332 foot stone mass that is titled simply "Dun I." We scaled the large hill, taking the steepest route up the face. We slipped and slid, yet carried on, persistent and without inhibition. It was worth is. Words cannot describe the feeling from the top. Nor can pictures, ideas, nothing. We were addicted. We could not be kept away from Dun I from then on. We went to see the sun set, to watch sheep, and to listen. Listen to the wind whipping across, uninhibited as our spirits. We could see for miles, even on the foggiest of days. We looked down on all of our blessings. The quaint homes, the shops selling hand-knit items and Nutella, the Abbey, the farmers and dogs and our whole world, laid out in front of us. We stayed up all night, once, to climb up in the morning and watch the sun rise. The weather was bad, and we didn't get to see what we had come for, but it was okay. We had made new memories and, most of all, we knew the sun would always rise. We didn't have to see it to depend on its warmth and light and nurturing. Our interests were never before peaked, our awareness never before as complete as it was on Iona. We learned so much, made so many discoveries. We discovered nothing that hadn't been discovered before, but it was all new to us. Iona was full of magic for me and it taught me. Iona was education in its purest form. It was realization. I made a family there. In a world where things seem so confusing, people so self-assured yet so ignorant, and in a world where often we see only hate, heartbreak, and sadness, Iona didn't conform. Iona did not follow the norm. No, no, no, no. It did not stick to the status quo. It opened my eyes, for the first time, to the positive. It's a good thing I remembered that passport after all.
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