Pathways

me 'n the Maharishi feel the lerv at Sylvia's wedding

What is it about weddings that drains us of our cynicism and pumps us full of gooey loving kindness? We sat in a pretty meadow in the Santa Ynez valley yesterday, in front of twin oaks full of twittering songbirds. A little girl in a cotton dress danced with her shadow to Curtis-Smith. Rilke was read:

Pathways

Understand, I'll slip quietly
away from the noisy crowd
when I see the pale
stars rising, blooming, over the oaks.

I'll pursue solitary pathways
through the pale twilit meadows,
with only this one dream:
You come too.

-- Rainer Maria Rilke

The iridescently beautiful bride and her groom looked into each other's eyes as they said their vows. Lavender was scattered. The congregation, gathered on simple wooden benches, sniffed into paper handkerchiefs. People that didn't know each other hugged, smiled, toasted with local wine, made resolutions they vowed to keep for the rest of their lives, decided to become better human beings.