A Friday night outdoor wedding with more than a hint of rain.
This was my thinking as I scanned my schedule last Friday. I had a small time window between work and picking up the “package.” The package being my mother-in-law. I realized I still had to try on my dress, find shoes, get gas in the car, write the card, eat lunch, and run an errand. Kinda wished I had thought this all out earlier in the week.
I wandered around the house muttering “umbrella” so I wouldn’t forget to bring one.
I tossed out the suede shoes for another pair that could tolerate wet grass and a heavy downpour. My skirt fit loosely so I packed a big safety pin in case there was wild dancing and it was at risk of falling down. (No one needs to see that.) With amazing efficiency, I was only 15 minutes behind schedule. Which is on time for me.
The package acquired and looking lovely, we hit the open road.
There’s something about heading to the shore that triggers a massive relaxation in my being. I put my bare feet up on the dashboard and enjoyed the ride. Even a threat of rain couldn’t dim my anticipation. I was heading to a big party to celebrate two lovely women who, like many, postponed their wedding a year due to COVID.
I hadn’t seen this extended family in almost a year. Not in person, that is.
Arriving at a beautiful vineyard, I was transfixed by the lovely gardens and neat rows of vines. The day was warm and the sun was peeking through the clouds. Weather nerds were on their phones predicting the downpour had shifted course. We were not to be blessed by the holy water from the heavens.
I imagined there were other blessings in store.
As we claimed three rows together, I delighted in seeing everyone. It warms my heart even now, this pleasure of face to face contact, kisses, and hugs. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed all of them until I was in their presence. I’m moved by weddings, funerals, warmhearted stories, and hallmark commercials. Often to tears. So, I was already primed to flow a drips with the joy of settling in with these lovely people.
Here’s the thing about two brides.
I knew these lovely ladies. I knew they each would walk down the aisle and profess their love and commitment for each other. I anticipated that wonder. I took that for granted.
I had not considered, perhaps, how different such a union is from the prevailing societal expectations for weddings and marriage.
Since high school, my friends, colleagues, and extended circles have always included people who favor same sex relationships. That was normative in my experience. And I’ve had plenty of conversations of their experience in the world, different from mine, which opened my mind and heart more fully.
These conversations weren’t only about sexual preference and the courage to live true to oneself.
As friends, the conversations were about everything. I wonder now if perhaps my comfort level actually left me insensitive to how deeply the dominant view of weddings as heterosexual was buried within my psyche. And our societal psyche.
The entrance of the bridal party took my breath away.
Two by two, beautiful ladies in dresses of their own choosing walked down the grassy aisle. Alternating to reveal themselves as friends of this bride or that bride. There were a lot of bridesmaids and they just kept coming. Two by two.
Making a visual statement that resonated deeply within my body. All ladies with the exception of two brothers. All walking together as women. Together as men. Making a point. Priming us for the entrance of one gorgeous bride. And then another.
This was a blessed union of two women.
I saw that. Really saw that. And how different this was from just about every wedding I had witnessed with the expected male and female pairs leading a single bride down the aisle. I recognized that the last wedding of friends, who were a long time couple, had walked in by themselves. Just as I was used to seeing them walk into many gatherings over the years.
It was a welcome shaking of my stored inner photo of what weddings looked like.
Here, I was greeted by a solidarity that boldly and beautifully stated the truth of the day.
The ceremony was precious, as would be expected. The brides glowed. Also expected.
The celebration was enthusiastic. Made more so because of the long separation we had all shared. The love for the couple was free and boisterous. The toasts were heart bursting and tear inducing all around. Leaving a glow around every body – however they identified. Looking around, at times, I felt my heart grow a few sizes.
What a wonder it is, to be free enough to celebrate love in all of its forms.
How very lucky we are to be free enough in our country, in our families and social groups, and in our inner world to experience such joy. So we danced. In celebration of what love looks like. For me, I was grateful that my visual wedding image, held deep within my memory, was dashed to the ground.
Priming me for my cousin’s bridal shower the next day.
Two brides. Beautifully unique. At a small outdoor gathering in a relative’s home. I met my cousin’s bride to be. Not on FaceTime or via telephone updates about their lives. In real time with a real hug. I connected with more family that I had not seen in a long time. I met the future in-laws and family. All ladies of course. After all, it was a bridal shower.
Oh, yes. And the Man of Honor.
He did a great job, the bride’s brother. First, he burst my heart a bit more as he gamely handed over presents and managed the gift opening. Sitting at the feet of his sister and her bride-to-be.
Busting another myth about that role for me.
Enthusiastic, but inexperienced, he laughed with the group when the paper plate was handed to him. Confused, he looked for some rational reason a paper plate was part of this traditionally female ritual, so foreign to him. His mother rescued the Man of Honor, taking over the creation of a hat of ribbons for the bride to be. (This is a strange ritual. Gotta acknowledge that.)
My cousin hated that hat. She would’ve rather worn a top hat, I imagine.
I look forward to that wedding. To celebrating this love in its form with more family I haven’t seen in forever. To shed some tears of happiness, dance in celebration, and share the warm glow. As for the details, I’m not sure how this wedding will look. I’m not asking. I’m open for anything.
I figure I have more to learn about the nature of love.
I’m all for breaking down more societal myths and melting some hearts. I imagine I’ll enter my third wedding of the summer, traditional in many ways, with new eyes. I expect to discover something more about the beauty of sharing one heart with another. More glowing on the horizon.
After all, Love is a great teacher.
Peace be with you and with all. No exceptions.
Even as the world changes and LGBTQ rights gain recognition, there are plenty who believe same sex marriage is unacceptable. I’m not trying to change your mind. In fact, research suggests it’s hard to shift deeply entrenched beliefs for a few reasons. The brain has a tendency to “stay the course,” especially on matters deemed important. Letting go of preexisting beliefs, which serve to form identity and connect us with our tribe, may signal danger. The fear of exclusion or judgement of the group is primal, influential. Downplaying inner discomfort may seem safer than accommodate a new point of view. Exploring inner beliefs with curiosity, respect, and understanding opens the conversation. And that’s a start.
Learn the one essential skill that allows you to face any challenge with confidence, sturdiness, and inner calm.
More than a technique. It’s a game changer.
Three months ago, I unexpectedly entered into a relationship with a horse.
I met Zor during a visit to Liberty Stables in Florida, where I had gone to spend time with a friend’s horses. I had no particular expectations. I have no background with horses, no training, and no experience in equine-assisted therapy. I simply met this magnificent Friesian, and something quietly familiar unfolded between us.
I fell in love.
The women who arrive in my classes, retreats, and therapy sessions are sincerely looking for healing, expansion, clarity, or sometimes just a little room to breathe.
They are thoughtful women, deeply engaged with the people and work they love. Rarely do they arrive because they want another spiritual philosophy. Most are carrying something much more ordinary.
A life that has become full. Beautiful in many ways, but crowded.
About twenty-five years ago, I was driving with a colleague to a local conference. As we approached the hotel entrance, I noticed an open parking spot near the front door.
“There’s a spot,” I said, pointing to the right. He drove past it.
A few seconds later, another one appeared. He drove past that one, too. Then I pointed to a third. “There’s a spot.” Without the slightest hesitation, Dan replied, “I’ll leave that for someone else.” And he calmly parked much farther away. As we walked to the entrance, I asked about that statement.
During the Seeding the Light Gathering, I had the privilege of hosting Pascual and Jose Tomas in our home.
They feel like family as this was their second visit to New Jersey. We’ve also spent a week together in Damanhur and the Temples of Humankind in Italy. I’ve sat in many ceremonies with Pascual in Peru’s Sacred Valley. His flute playing often carried me up mountain trails in the thin air and hot sun.
I planned to work a bit, complete some projects, and enjoy slow days with plenty of relaxation.
All of that certainly occurred, but beneath it all, something else began quietly inviting my attention.
The plane had begun its slow fall toward the earth when a sharp ache pierced my ears. Half-dozing, half-aware, I surfaced into the moment just as the toddler in front of me woke with a scream that broke her open. The sound wasn’t defiance or misbehavior. It was pain.
I felt her small body struggling to make sense of something she couldn’t name.
Her mother bent over her with the tenderness of someone trying very hard to be a good parent. But her soothing came dressed in urgency, in the quiet pressure to behave, to use words, to be okay, to not disturb those seated around her. Her voice shook with the effort of managing her child’s distress and her own rising shame.
