Letters to Montana

We were married just over a month ago, when summer ran up against autumn and where the Great Horned Owl* makes its home.

I assume that we were no different than other people on the cusp of marriage in that we spent a fair amount of time considering what it actually means for us:

We, who in many ways, were already married.

We, who have the luxury of marrying for love.

But, arriving at this place, means in part, that we choose simply to navigate life’s mysteries together;

that we are committed to facing the unknown, side by side.

When marriage becomes a palpable thing, I believe that the moments of planning for the ceremony are as valuable as the ceremony itself, for they require that we distill the notion of ourselves as individuals and as part of a couple into words, while also fashioning tools that will help guide us through the journey of marriage.

That distillation process resulted in many gifts for us, but one such outcome was what I wrote for the opening of our ceremony. It was our call to gather, in the name of love:

Wedding Song

Photo by Pam Voth

Science tells us that we are all made of dust from the stars.

We are all made from the same thing.

But, we already have proof of this.

Because our hearts beat like wings,

like branches bending in a steady wind,

like the tumbling and rolling of seaweed

rushing and retreating from shore.

That’s why your voice

resonates;

a swarm of bees

humming against my breastbone;

their small bodies

vibrating

with wild sunshine

and giving rise

to music we know

from a time before our birth.

That’s why,

when we wander into the forest

at dusk

the boulder turns into bear

and elk song

into symphony.

We’ve watched water

in a luminous creek

slide across stone

and we’ve sensed

how the stone must feel

under that constant

cool, caress.

We’ve ached

beneath the sky

while birds soar

and dive;

playing games far above

calling in high,

haunting song.

We know that we share

a space

more expansive than breath;

that blood may bind us

but energy defines us;

that whenever we are lost

we need only listen

for the rumblings and rhythms

that rise

from the soil.

We need only press our hands

into the flanks of the ponderosa pine.

We need only search for the flicker

of starlight

in another’s gaze.

Because our animal wisdom

calls to us

as a great thirst;

for kindness,

for patience,

but also for acceptance of

infinite mysteries;

for recognition of ourselves

in all other life,

so that we may fulfill our greatest purpose:

To Love.

******

* I don’t follow AP or Chicago style when it comes to naming other animals. We all get capitalized!!

**All photos not credited are Danielle Lattuga’s photos. Copyright 2014