Today began with loads of laundry for tablecloths from the wedding and sheets and towels the houseguests used.
We rented linens for the rented tables but used other fabric and tablecloths for the food and dessert line. I pulled twin sheets and blankets out of closets to accommodate our houseguests on single air mattresses as well as the double bed.
As I started loads of laundry, I realized I'm doing much of the wedding chores in reverse. I remember collecting these tablecloths out of the dresser drawers, folding them up, getting them up to the venue, spreading them out with Scott's Mom.
Same with the sheets and towels at the house.
Now, all in reverse.
There is a special energy that goes with the winding down of a milestone event. Last week during the wind-up, I felt anticipation, excitement, hope, nervousness, being overwhelmed, energized. The feelings now move toward the reverential, thoughtful, fullness, joy, contentment, satisfaction and accomplishment.
They say that climbers on Mt. Everest often die because they don't save enough energy to get back down. I'm grateful there isn't a big rush to rewind the practical pieces of the wedding. For the most part, everything can sit and slowly be reassimilated without a lot of grief. No one is clamoring to get the platter they left behind. Laundry can wait. Decorations can sit.
As I touch different objects, new memories are coming back as I remember parts of the days around and of the wedding. I'm grateful for the time to try and record and remember what happened, to not get caught up in the frenzy of daily life, to keep sacred things sacred a little bit longer.
I've lost much of my sentimentality around objects and things. I'm no longer the hoarder I used to be when it comes to objects especially passed down from my grandparents and my mom. The wedding would have been special whether we had grandma's tablecloth on the dessert line or not. It wasn't even particularly special that it was there; it was handy though.
I'm not quite sure what that means, other than I feel freer to have fewer things laced with significance. The event, the people, that's what was significant. Being on a mountain. Having people bring food.
There are a few things that are important to me to have and continue using, but the list is short and getting shorter. I see my kids having almost no interest in all of this attachment to things that must be used, at least the volume of it I was exposed to as a child. I accepted it as gospel, and it's taking time to break that pattern. I've found it means the few things I keep and use have special value, and the bulk of the rest is gone, not missed. I've sold and given away hundreds of things at this point now, things I inherited or purchased on my own. I still own thousands of things. It's sort of staggering, really.
So the wedding is going in reverse, but what we have an used was on a scale I could handle. The decorations were almost all made or purchased at Goodwill. We collected or bought the natural objects and flowers we used to decorate. We largely accomplished KT's goal of having a sustainable, zero-waste wedding, right down to the bamboo dinnerware and rented and borrowed linens and serving utensils. No plastic anywhere to be found.
*****
Today began with loads of laundry for tablecloths from the wedding and sheets and towels the houseguests used.
We rented linens for the rented tables but used other fabric and tablecloths for the food and dessert line. I pulled twin sheets and blankets out of closets to accommodate our houseguests on single air mattresses as well as the double bed.
As I started loads of laundry, I realized I'm doing much of the wedding chores in reverse. I remember collecting these tablecloths out of the dresser drawers, folding them up, getting them up to the venue, spreading them out with Scott's Mom.
Same with the sheets and towels at the house.
Now, all in reverse.
There is a special energy that goes with the winding down of a milestone event. Last week during the wind-up, I felt anticipation, excitement, hope, nervousness, being overwhelmed, energized, joy. The feelings now move toward the reverential, thoughtful, fullness, joy, contentment, satisfaction and accomplishment.
They say that climbers on Mt. Everest often die because they don't save enough energy to get back down. I'm grateful there isn't a big rush to rewind the practical pieces of the wedding. For the most part, everything can sit and slowly be reassimilated without a lot of grief. No one is clamoring to get the platter they left behind. Laundry can wait. Decorations can sit.
As I touch different objects, new memories are coming back as I remember parts of the days around and of the wedding. I'm grateful for the time to try and record and remember what happened, to not get caught up in the frenzy of daily life, to keep sacred things sacred a little bit longer.
I've lost much of my sentimentality around objects and things. I'm no longer the hoarder I used to be when it comes to objects especially passed down from my grandparents and my mom. The wedding would have been special whether we had grandma's tablecloth on the dessert line or not. It wasn't even particularly special that it was there; it was handy though.
I'm not quite sure what that means, other than I feel freer to have fewer things laced with significance. The event, the people, that's what was significant. Being on a mountain. Having people bring food.
There are a few things that are important to me to have and continue using, but the list is short and getting shorter. I see my kids having almost no interest in all of this attachment to things that must be used, at least the volume of it I was exposed to as a child. I accepted it as gospel, and it's taking time to break that pattern. I've found it means the few things I keep and use have special value, and the bulk of the rest is gone, not missed. I've sold and given away hundreds of things at this point now, things I inherited or purchased on my own. I still own thousands of things. It's sort of staggering, really.
So the wedding is going in reverse, but what we have was on a scale I could handle. The decorations were almost all made or purchased at Goodwill. We collected or bought the natural objects and flowers we used to decorate. We largely accomplished KT's goal of having a sustainable, zero-waste wedding, right down to the bamboo dinnerware and rented and borrowed linens and serving utensils. No plastic anywhere to be found.
*****
A friend called me as I was leaving the library: You were so peaceful at the wedding. Did you prepare for that or did it just happen? I feel overwhelmed by all the emotions; I'm not sure I can contain them all at once. This doesn't happen that often, to have this many emotions at one event.
We talked about all of that. Her daughter is getting married this weekend.
We all want to know how to do this, how to do life.
Why was it special? Was it because we'd planned well? That it was on the mountain? That the kids haven't actually experienced every aspect of being married, that this was something they'd waited for? That our community was there? That we didn't have a Pinterest wedding? That what was important was already met?
I am just grateful and have much to ponder.
*****
Then just like that, the reality of life comes crashing in. A close friend contacted us this morning and has a most-likely diagnosis of pancreatic cancer.
This man needs to still be on the planet. We need his presence, his friendship, his wisdom, his life.
I spent the morning filling my back porch with the smell of burning sage. I smeared oil on a stick to signify healing. I don't know how to pray in any other way than to ask that the divine energy in his body would be awakened to heal him, that God would intervene and end the disease wrapping itself around his organs.
There are the questions of how you end up with the disease. Where was God then. Those are the right questions to ask, I believe. It keeps you from magical thinking. I still will pray.
So we pray and research and wonder where God's energy is and how to find it, redirect it to him. What medicines, therapies, techniques, will give him life back.
Then just like that, the reality of life comes crashing in. A close friend contacted us this morning and has a most-likely diagnosis of pancreatic cancer.
This man needs to still be on the planet. We need his presence, his friendship, his wisdom, his life.
I spent the morning filling my back porch with the smell of burning sage. I smeared oil on a stick to signify healing. I don't know how to pray in any other way than to ask that the divine energy in his body be awakened to heal him, that God would intervene and end the disease wrapping itself around his organs.
So we pray and research and wonder where God's energy is and how to find it, redirect it to him. What medicines, therapies, techniques, will give him life back.
*****
Possibly the best things I did today was talk to a person at the restaurant who was dining alone. I didn't pity her, but I wanted to talk to her. When she left, I asked her how she liked her dinner. We ended up talking a few minutes about the trout, how we both loved it and how the potatoe cakes were dangerously delicious as well.
I know there are encounters like that, small chats with strangers, that have been some of my nicest moments on my darkest, most isolated days. Sometimes, you just need to talk. You need to get out of your own head. Pretty much all the research on healthy living says casual contact with a number of people - your community, not just your friends - is critical to mental and emotional health.
I sensed she brightened up, and I did too. It's always risky in this culture, but it's what I want to do and be, when I can.