Bring Me to this Moment

Yesterday, Matt and I celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary.  Like many couples arriving at this juncture, it felt a bit surreal to us -- simultaneously recent yet also long ago.  As I looked again at the pictures, I was surprised the kids were not in them.

We had a wonderful traditional wedding, and then spent a week on a very quiet and relaxing honeymoon. Matt wrote thank you notes and I read Amy Tan's "The Hundred Secret Senses."  We split our time between a quiet cabin in Door County and a fun filled few days in Chicago where we spent time at the museums and saw a performance by Second City.  On our way home we ended up stopping off in Rochester for a visit with Matt's grandmother Alice, namesake of our now (gulp!) 11-year old Alice.

There are so many fond and wonderful memories I have of that day and of the planning, preparation and parties.  There was a lot of chaos too.  The planning became overwhelming for me at times which was difficult, but I tried to keep everything in perspective.  The weekend before the wedding, I had a quiet retreat so to give myself little grounding time before the week of festivities began.  It was an important part of the experience because it allowed me to take time to really consider everything that was happening.  People were coming from near and far, spending considerable time and resources, all to publicly support me and Matt and launch us into our life together.  They believed in the potential of our union.  (Thank you all again!)

Here's what kept coming up in my thoughts while I was on retreat:  how would I really experience this day without catapulting myself forward to the next task or activity on the list?  How could I enjoy this experience?  I knew I had to find a way to be present.  I didn't want logistics, worries and anxieties to get in the way of enjoying the day.

I found a mantra: "Bring me to this moment."

That mantra was my calming mechanism; my rudder.  The weather was horrible that day -- as I looked through the crack in the door and watched bedraggled guests come in after fighting off sleet and snow, anxiety threatened but the mantra and some deep breaths got me through.  A stream of other minor logistic issues ensued, but I just kept that phrase in front of me.  It helped me remember names of lesser known relatives in attendance, and helped me remember to thank as many people as I could.  It helped me remember to look out during the dinner to the sea of loved ones in front of us.  Most importantly, it reminded me to turn my head slightly to the right and have a look at the guy right next to me.

The mantra remains.  Weddings are not the only moments of high emotion, high tension, and high excitement.  There are plenty of times even in the course of my work life, where I need to calm myself and bring myself to the moment I am in.  As I whirled around at Thanksgiving this year, I had to say it over and over again from the Monday before the holiday until the last guest left Thursday evening.

I wish for you the enjoyment and the living of moments.  They are not always moments of glee, but they are certainly the foundation for a fully lived life.