The community of Sólheimar begins each day with morning meeting. Before the church bells ring nine o’clock, everyone gathers in the gym (or outside when it is warmer) to welcome the beginning of a new day. I begin by removing my shoes and scarf in the entranceway and making my way into the pastel colored gymnasium with a basketball hoop hanging from one wall and a drum set positioned on the stage off to the other side. Often Disa greets me and the other CELL students with a beaming smile, and a hug or a kiss. Guðlaug might look at me with a smile, reminding me that Caroline in Icelandic is pronounced Karr-o-li-nah, or Siggi might come stand next to me and ask how my day is going, pat me on the back and say “very good very good, my friend.” Then at a vaguely agreed upon time, one person claps three times, all voices fade, and we join hands in a circle to silently wait for the tolling of the church bells. After the nine resounding rings, our clasped hands swing up–“Góðan daginn.” Announcements allow anyone to speak. It seems as though Disa often chirps in something that is not necessarily important enough to translate to us. But when I asked one day it turns out that she was sending greetings from her mother and on another morning she was announcing that Sandra the cook was going away on holiday for two weeks.
When we go for a daytrip and miss morning meeting I feel like I’ve missed something. It is a unique opportunity to see everyone in the community and share a moment of quiet and peacefulness before beginning the day. We end each morning meeting with the Morning Song:
Lof sé Guði, ljómar dagur,
lífgar sólargeislinn fagur
allt um heim, sem hefur líf.
Gef oss, Drottinn, gott að iðja,
gef oss náð að vaka og biðja,
vertu styrkur vor og hlíf
It allows us to start each day with the entire community. This invigorates me and creates a space to fully experience sustainability through community. This community has welcomed me most through big smiles and wonderful traditions. I cherish the sense of belonging that comes with finally memorizing the Sólheimar morning song—and subsequently losing the small scrap of paper it was written on in the washing machine.
By Caroline Bruno