A wedding is a confluence of tribes, a melding of lives, a meeting of minds. It’s the healing of wounds, the dressing of scars in absolute beauty. It’s a convergence of histories, some shared, some not.
It’s binding, a bonding more powerful than reason, escaping reason. It’s a covering; it’s an uncovering. It’s hide and seek – for a while – until hide and seek is no longer necessary. Because, wherever you hide you find love, wherever you seek you find it again. You find love that is holy and grounded, deliberate and determined.
A wedding is a miracle in itself and the continuation of an unfolding miracle. It is a foundation for a small and intimate cottage for two in the woods at the end of a long a winding driveway, forests on both sides, while it is also the driving of pylons into the earth for a skyscraper so high in a city so vast it’s ends, height and widths, are beyond the capacity of the couple to see.
It is war, for love. It’s peace, for healing, it’s together, for celebration, and apart for contemplation. It’s giving, giving, giving to the point that you are unaware of just how much you are receiving and getting and gaining. A wedding is more than a wedding, It is an act of making history.
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