Readings
How does someone who is as in love with words as I am even begin to consider what readings to use for my wedding?
I've officiated more than a dozen weddings myself. I have suggestions at my fingertips anytime someone wants help choosing a reading.
But trying to find readings that speak to us both on a deep level--well, it isn't that there aren't any. It's that there are so many, we don't know which to choose. And, in general, none of the ones we think of are actually love poems, or about love at all.
I wrote the ceremony for S's adoption party, and I remember praying and asking for guidance, than opening books I loved at random. I actually chose my readings this way--I found words that spoke deeply about permanence and community, about spiritual love. I created rituals that drew from my own spiritual heritage and created a new ground for a spiritual heritage that would become ours.
Why is it so much more difficult to find the right words for a wedding?
We know who we are. We know what it means to us to love each other, and to want to continue loving each other. But there don't seem to be adequate words out there for what that experience has been like for us.
We will have to keep searching. In the meantime, I get quality time with my books of poetry, get to re-read old favorites, re-discover long forgotten writers. This time is better than grading or writing reports or doing my taxes. And now that there is some sense of urgency, well, I can justify taking time for this.
But isn't It too bad that this is what it takes to return me to the writers who so profoundly shaped my life? If only I could always make the time to re-read them, to discover new writers, to read at all. I miss living a life that is partly grounded by books and partly grounded by writing. This Lenten ritual is helping me to write again--raw, unedited, not very good, but these reflections go out into the world like this anyway, and in the process, I let go of my perfectionism, my deeply held belief that only projects with major time investments really matter.
For now, though, I'm also making space to read. Perhaps I can work this ritual of turning pages into my daily life again.
I've officiated more than a dozen weddings myself. I have suggestions at my fingertips anytime someone wants help choosing a reading.
But trying to find readings that speak to us both on a deep level--well, it isn't that there aren't any. It's that there are so many, we don't know which to choose. And, in general, none of the ones we think of are actually love poems, or about love at all.
I wrote the ceremony for S's adoption party, and I remember praying and asking for guidance, than opening books I loved at random. I actually chose my readings this way--I found words that spoke deeply about permanence and community, about spiritual love. I created rituals that drew from my own spiritual heritage and created a new ground for a spiritual heritage that would become ours.
Why is it so much more difficult to find the right words for a wedding?
We know who we are. We know what it means to us to love each other, and to want to continue loving each other. But there don't seem to be adequate words out there for what that experience has been like for us.
We will have to keep searching. In the meantime, I get quality time with my books of poetry, get to re-read old favorites, re-discover long forgotten writers. This time is better than grading or writing reports or doing my taxes. And now that there is some sense of urgency, well, I can justify taking time for this.
But isn't It too bad that this is what it takes to return me to the writers who so profoundly shaped my life? If only I could always make the time to re-read them, to discover new writers, to read at all. I miss living a life that is partly grounded by books and partly grounded by writing. This Lenten ritual is helping me to write again--raw, unedited, not very good, but these reflections go out into the world like this anyway, and in the process, I let go of my perfectionism, my deeply held belief that only projects with major time investments really matter.
For now, though, I'm also making space to read. Perhaps I can work this ritual of turning pages into my daily life again.
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