The joining of human hearts.
May 3, 2011 § Leave a comment
This weekend I travelled a long way, and came to a little corner of the hills that was the place of my dear friend’s marriage.
The wedding was a pagan one; the woman crowned with flowers, ribbons in her hair; the man in a green waistcoat, and their hands tied together by the Earth priest. All in a circle we cheered and whistled as the mated buzzard pair swung in lazy circles above us. Ah, to be surrounded with friends on such a happy day! To see the smiles and tears of joy! The wedding kiss of the man and woman who have taken the thread of their lives and plaited them together, the words of the heart spoken as the rings are slipped on mortal fingers with promises of forever.
And I sat in the sun, with the pretty bunting of ribbons and silk and green boughs speckled with the creamy May flower about me, and thought; how wonderful a thing, what a beautiful day for the weaving of lives, what joy I am taking in my many friends being so glad, how fortunate I am to have seen today like a jewel in the tapestry of my life.
Because my legs are bad, I did not run through the grasses with the others, or leap in dancing – but I have learned through being forced to be still to see deeper, as though I have been half blind all my life, and let all the everyday wonders and mysteries pass me by, so intent have I been on the pictures in my head, always rushing, rushing to the next thing I think has happiness hidden inside it; like a tourist in life, taking a million photographs instead of simply being there.
At the wedding, I noticed the little things. I saw the slant of the sun as it heaved into the long evening, a deeper yellow glinting in people’s hair and softening the lines of the world. I saw the brisk wind chasing wild grass in rippling waves across the land, great swathes of green and yellow stems bending and flashing silvery as a shoal of quick fish. I saw the smoke from the fire, as ancient as only woodsmoke can be, wind towards the sky in great lazy drifts. I remember the bright red hearts embroidered on a little girl’s dress, the strawberries handed around in a wooden bowl, the sigh as the bride appeared, as though the yearning of a hundred hearts for love drew breath and came alive.
Now I am back in my room, away from the fantastical days sleeping on the land, the emerald grass, the laughter. Returned to my days of listening to the radio and my little anxieties; but I hope that I will take with me the spiritual lessons of this beautiful weekend, and dream at night of ribbons dancing merrily in the wind, and the coloured petals strewn about bare feet, and the deep, cornflower blue of the sky who has seen it all many, many times before.