I’m taking another much needed break from my blogging silence to share a story.
Thirteen years ago seems like a lifetime when you speak the words. But thirteen years married to Adam, feels like a beautiful blink.
I was 22, he was 24 and judging by today’s average we were just kids, embarking on a trip together down the aisle. A reading I recall most from our ceremony was from Kahil Gibran’s The Prophet and was one we chose together:
“Then Almitra spoke again and said, “And what of Marriage, master?”
And he answered saying:
You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when white wings of death scatter your days.
Aye, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow”
That day, we were full of romance and idealism and probably didn’t think too much of this reading, but today 13 years later it is the sentiment here that our marriage is built upon.
This painting I created back in 2009 reminds me so much of our beautiful separateness. On this day, the Hubby and I set out to explore Zion National Park in the way we always have…together, but separate. We rode the shuttle to a perfect spot, stepped off and sized up our surroundings. He walked with me down to the river to find my perfect painting stop, sat on a boulder nearby as I set up, deciding where he would hike to while I painted. Hours passed as the sun belted down. My brushed moved quickly and before I knew it this painting had come into view. Before I knew it, Adam was back from his hike and we just sat for a while, sharing each of our adventures, laughing and laying back against the cool rocks to soak it all in. We didn’t need to be holding hand for hours or walking together along a path only one of us really wanted to be on. We could be at peace in the momentary separateness each of us craved; the sweet separateness that makes coming back together so divine.
Happy, happy 13th.