My husband and I attended our first Indian wedding this weekend. The best thing about it was that it was a bubble in time. Everyone was so colorful. The music was fun and forced you to dance (as much as I could.) Getting all dressed up in brand new... everything made me feel like a little kid again playing "dress up." It was a joyful celebration and we were honored to be included.
It is so easy to let fear and rage take over my life these days. Between sickness, my mitochondrial dysfunction and the obvious... politics, it felt like my brain just slipped into a warm bath. I felt rejuvenated and hopeful. Nothing is better than the celebration of love.
My mom commented that she's never seen my husband look so happy as he did in the photos from the wedding. I have to agree. Its been a long time since I saw him smile that big and let loose. There wasn't even alcohol. He was just really that happy. I love it.
I danced too much and paid the price, but it was worth it. It felt so good to get out there and move to the music. I miss that. And I can't remember the last time my husband and I danced with each other. Moments like that are sacred.
As the world surrounds us with hatred and chaos it was good to remember that there's still love. People still falling in love. Having parties. Dancing. Eating cake. Coming home from the hospital (* YAY MOM!) Kissing, hugging, making art, taking trips, watching puffy clouds that look like animals. Life is still magical. I just have to pay attention and celebrate being alive.
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