The Marriage

I couldn't keep my gaze off of the bride walking down the aisle as her soon-to-be husband stood at the alter with a smile plastered on his face. She radiated beauty as she took her time walking toward her marriage rites. As she got closer I could feel her measured breath, her steady gaze on her love, and the sheer force of will in keeping back the tears that threatened to spill out of her eyes and down her cheeks. She seemed completely different from the girl I met in college when we both performed in a prevention through the arts group on campus. The girl I knew back then was a bubbly, quick-to-laugh, R.A. who wanted to be a teacher and buzzed around campus making stuff happen. The bride I saw walking down the aisle was austere, poised, and solely focused on floating to the alter.

The ceremony was beautiful, the catholic priest announcing his love of the spiritual and the love of the flesh, but I couldn't keep my eyes off of the couple standing under the massive statue of a bloody and beaten Jesus. The two of them were holding hands, looking deep in to each other's eyes and smiling big happy smiles of joy. Two people: in a ceremonial setting, wearing traditional clothing, were promising a promise out loud to all the witnesses in the church to hear. I listened to their vows of fidelity and trust and to promise to stay together for the rest of their lives, but felt like I was seeing a promise already uttered between the two, probably silently at first, but a promise that they both independently knew for a long time. The wedding rites were a ceremonial way of letting us all know they meant it.

I remember talking to a girlfriend getting married a couple years ago. She kept insisting that "you just know" when you meet the man/woman you'll wind up with. I keep thinking about that "ah-hah!" moment and wonder if that's not the moment when you make a promise to yourself that the person who makes you feel that way is the person you should be with for the rest of your life.

I am not an overly religious person. I don't subscribe to the idea that an Omnipotent being will get me into a kingdom of heaven if I worship them, but I do believe that the reaction I had to watching two people, very much in love, tell their world that they will love each other forever, was holy. I believe in the awed feeling I felt when I watched them hold each other, that to me was the moment of the wedding, and any wedding for that matter, which transcends religion and becomes it's own moment of purity. It's a beautiful thing to witness, and I'm glad I did.

Every marriage is different, and every couple will bring their own personalities and beliefs to their ceremonial "knot tying." The love I've seen in all the weddings I have been to though: that seems to be a very similarly beautiful thing to see, and all of them have that spark, that glow in their smiles and that energy to their step which makes the bride ethereal and the groom handsome and attractive. That spark will cement the memories in their brains to be recalled in times when all else seems hard and frustrating. I wish those moments of bliss on everyone! And I wish all the best to my two friends.

The Holy Kiss

I got caught staring at a large black man clearly enjoying the jazz that was being played at my job last night. He was nodding his head and shutting his eyes and muttering "Damn!"under his breath. At each key change he'd nod his head in affirmation, like he had just taken a swallow of something really yummy. I couldn't stop staring at his utter enjoyment.

He looked over at the bar I was standing behind and caught my eye. I smiled, beckoning him to the bar. I felt I needed to explain myself further. The song ended and the man got up and walked over. I leaned in over the bar toward his face and he leaned in over the bar toward my face. I moved to whisper in his ear and he moved in to kiss me on the cheek. I felt his warm soft lips brush my face and could feel myself blush a deep crimson. 

What? Wait. No! That's not why I called you over!! Oh... awkward. 

I tried to rescue to the pause after I pulled away from him with a huge smile. "I like to watch people enjoy the music." I whispered as the next song vamped up. "Do you want a beer?" He pointed to an IPA and I jumped away, eager to get out of his circle. I smiled as I handed him the beer and waved away his money. "It's on us." I said. He put the money in the tip jar and moved back to his seat. 

I tried to focus on the music, but my mind started buzzing. That stranger, that worshipper of music just kissed my cheek. I don't know him from Adam and he just ambled over and as soon as I leaned in he planted one right on my face. I smiled, unsure of how to really feel about the occurrence. I guess I liked that. I didn't feel threatened by it, or anything. I looked out over the other heads of the nodding patrons, all there to experience the jazz and to drink in the sounds. I moved to make my way up the aisle that parts the small room I work in and did it more for the purpose of feeling the reverence of the listeners than to take drink orders. It's like walking through a church sermon in a church full of very dedicated converts. 

As I collected a few empty glasses I wondered if the "Holy Spirit" of the room would cause someone else to kiss me one day. I didn't mind that idea. I got the sense that the kiss came from a place of bliss through worship than any sexual drive. I smiled. And who says the power of prayer is only for churches?

Carnegie Hall

We sat all the way on the right of the house, but close enough to see all the whites of their eyes. My mom and I took our seats next to an enormous woman dressed in sweats and wearing two pigtails, who immediately launched into all of her facts about orchestral music (I had no idea someone could be such a fan!)

While my Mom graciously nodded her head and kinda' listened to the woman's pontifications I gazed in awe at the beauty of Carnegie Hall. I looked up at the gabled ceiling, I counted the tiers leading to the roof, I felt the rich red velvet of the chairs we sat in, and read through the playbill. I felt like a little girl in the big grandeur of the auditorium.

This was the first time I had ever seen a Symphony orchestra play live indoors. I did see the NY Philharmonic in Central park this summer, but this was a completely different experience! The music vamped up and the sounds waves washed over the silent and intent audience like chocolate on a biscuit, coating everything in a rich layer of flavor. I'd shut my eyes and listen and imagine stories being played out for me, or I would open my eyes and watch the musicians as they swayed to the rhythms they were drawing (or plucking or blowing) from their instruments. It was beautiful.

As the little girl I felt I was, I remembered back to when I would dance in my grandparents living room when Grandpa played the NPR's classical music selections on the radio. I'd imagine I was a fairy or a princess or a witch and I would stomp around on the white rug and dance on the couches and chairs, letting the music tell me what to do and how to act and feel. In the auditorium I felt no different. I felt my heart flutter and my skin get goose-bumps and my fingers picking out the beat to the tunes. At the end of each piece I would whoosh the air out of my lungs and inhale, as if by breathing too hard during the orchestration I would ruin the spell.

At one point there was a pause to the music and a lady a couple of seats closer to the front sneezed. She sneezed so loud that even over the striking up of the violins the Conductor hear her and looked over his shoulder at the insulting sound. I chanced a glance at my Mother who was stifling laughter and I giggled as well. Oh, memories. Carnegie Hall is worth millions of them.

I can't wait to go back and hear more.

The Proposal

"...And I just want to say that I want to spend the rest of my life doing that with you." He concluded his monologue, as in slow-mo he hopped down from the podium he'd been standing on, walked up to his Girlfriend and proposed in front of a room full of audience members who had just finished watching the show for the evening. The room went silent, except for the occasional sob, as the Man got down on one knee and asked if She'd marry him. A small "Yes" boomed through the room as everyone erupted into applause. The happy couple embraced and kissed as the band struck a chord and played a love song.

I felt the unbidden tears roll down my cheek as I tried very hard to choke back a sob. That was such a beautiful moment to witness. I felt so unbelievably overwhelmed by how simple and lovely that honesty and courage was, and how it brought the entire room to silence. I tried to reflect on any other time I had seen a live proposal and couldn't think of any. That was my first one.

I wished that the girl getting kissed and hugged, covered in happy tears: was me. I wished beyond reason that I'd get a call, or a text or an e-mail or that somehow a guy from my past/present/future would come running into the room and, seeing me, come running up and grab me, bundling me up into an embrace before all to see and then tell me the same things I had heard come out of that other guy's mouth. He loved her. He wasn't afraid to tell an entire room. He wasn't afraid of what he felt for her, in fact, he embraced it head on!

I looked around the room at the other teary-eyed girls brushing the salty water from their faces and laughing with embarrassed giggles at how they had all individually "lost it" watching that pure moment of love and happiness. I smiled and laughed along with them. "Yeah, wasn't that funny? I lost it, too! Haha!"

It wasn't until I was on the train coming home later that night, when I buried my head in my hands and had a quick sob, did I realize how impossible that moment seemed for me. That was a fairy tale. A blunder, right? A wish that a young girl dreams of as she falls asleep, imagining her prince charming. Yet, there it was: right before me, happening in real time. It happens. I breathed deep and followed the dance song I had blasting in my ears to help drown out the hopelessness I was feeling. Everyone is different, and everyone has a different sunset they ride off into, that's all... It's not a matter of hopelessness, just patience and a determination to keep doing what makes me happiest in the meantime.

Hanging Out

Chilling out in the summer is hard to do unless one has an AC.

But, hanging out? Really relaxing in the company of others and feeding off the creative energy of their bodies, and not feeling pressure to speak or do or act unless one wants to is: in my opinion, truly a wonderful level of friendship to be enjoyed by only the closest of friends.

And what causes that comfort? That level of trust, to know that the people who also happen to be in the room will be totally content to stay in their underwear all day and maybe debate taking a shower and maybe have to get up at one point and announce that they'll be back after they take a dump?  That comes from love. A love of the people around you. A love that transcends a need for sex or for drama or for stimulation, a love that occurs when one can be happy just sitting in the same confines of the same four walls as other people.

When someone has that relationship with others, be they roommates, relatives, co-workers, or best friends, that's something special. Lovely. A romance with other relationships that aren't just a boyfriend or girlfriend.

I love hanging out with other people who also want to just hang out.

Oh, hello delicious summer afternoons. I'm loving the sweet flavor of your laid-back kisses.