Litha

June 21 was Litha, aka the summer solstice. I spent the weekend in New York City celebrating my friends Marin and Steve at their beautiful wedding in Central Park. The wedding included a hand-fasting (from which the term "tying the knot" is derived), and I gave welcome remarks about the solstice and the importance of ritual. The wedding was witchy in the best way. I asked Marin if I could share some of my remarks with you, and she said yes because she's a sweetheart (and a Witch's Mark reader).

But first, let's set the scene. Here's me in this beautiful gazebo in Central Park, surrounded by some of the loveliest creative people in the world. My dress felt like a swiss cheese cupcake in a way that absolutely delighted me.

Here's a bit of what I said:

We are gathered on a magical day — the Summer Solstice, or Midsummer, the longest day of the year. The word solstice comes from the Latin word “solstitium” which means: “sun stands still.” The tilted rotation of our Earth around the sun creates the seasons, and twice a year, we get these liminal moments — a time out of time, when the Sun and Earth appear to pause to take each other in, and give us a momentary breath of rest and celebration, before the rotation continues and the march of time spins on. For hundreds of years, human beings all over the world have celebrated the solstice.

For a moment, let’s just take that in. All over the world, in distinct and ancient civilizations with no way of communicating with one another, from the Druids to the Maya, from ancient Rome to Indigenous peoples the world over, humans have paused on this day to remember their place in nature and the universe and to celebrate the bounty and blessings of the Sun. 

And on this summer solstice, we are gathered to celebrate one of the most holy and joyous of life’s rituals, the public joining of two people in marriage. 

Let’s be honest, marriage has come a long way in the history of our species. In the early days, a wedding was an exchange of goods, the joining of families to create economic mobility. I’ll give you ten cows and an acre of land, you give me your daughter.  Over the years it has been and continues to be many different things – a sacred religious rite, a legal contract, a way to end a conflict between two warring nations, a reason to exist for an entire industry of mason jars. 

This couple already enjoys so much of the stability of marriage – a longstanding, faithful relationship, the support of their families, and many thousands of frequent flyer miles. So why get married at all, some among you might be quietly wondering… We are, after all, in the center of the Woke Godless Coastal Elite Heathen City of New York, so it’s okay, don’t pretend the thought hadn’t occurred to you.

It’s true. A wedding is a play with a script written long ago, costumes chosen and creative choices made by actors and designers who are long dead. Their customs are not our customs. The concerns of their lives are not our concerns. The commitment that Steve and Marin have made to one another will not change because we are gathered together today. They’ve been committed, they will remain committed whether papers are signed and rings exchanged.

We are also gathered in a moment of political turmoil, upheaval, and violence around the world. So there it is again, that pesky question. In the midst of so much suffering, why tie your fate to another? Why wear a white dress? Why recite vows?

Why practice the ancient ritual of marriage at all?

Well, I’m glad you asked. First of all, it’s fun and we could all use a little fun right now. Plus, look at the crowd they’ve assembled. Incredibly attractive. Well done everybody. 

Some of this day is for us. Their community. Their witnesses. Pledging your life to someone is an act of profound vulnerability and optimism.  You’re making an investment in a person, not just the person standing in front of you today, but the person that they will be tomorrow and next week and thirty years from now. 

Think of the optimism of that pledge. To know a person’s heart and therefore trust that in spite of all the changes and triumphs and challenges that life will throw at you, the core of your chosen person will remain steadfast. I am grateful for this opportunity to be reminded that our lives are not just about our output, our careers, our productivity, or even our artistic endeavors, but the profound magic of our connection to one another. I am grateful to bear witness to my friends’ optimism, to their love and connection to each other and to each of us.

A wedding affords the community a chance to observe and remember hope, to bear witness to love at its most vulnerable and declarative. We gather here to be the audience to the tenderness that human beings are capable of at our best. We gather here to perform a play written by our ancestors and revived millions of times across the globe for centuries. Obviously, this wedding will be Tony nominated, Pulitzer short-listed, and will most likely save the world, and not all weddings can do that, but the best revivals at least acknowledge the lesser productions that came before it.

Ritual offers an opportunity to pause, a time out of time, if you will, a solstice of sorts, to reflect on the fleeting nature of our mortal lives, to stand in awe of all of the tiny impossible moments that must happen for two souls to wriggle through the vast universe and make their way to one another. We are gathered together in the swirling chaos of a universe we will never fully understand, and yet, for this moment, this time out of time, we are the audience to a love story told in the round, that requires your participation, not just at this performance but for the many days to come.

In the days leading up to the wedding, I spent time with beloved friends making dried flower arrangements for the reception, and walking around New York City dripping with sweat. I met my friends' new baby (who slept in my arms for hours and lowered my blood pressure with the healing power of a fresh baby). I will not be sharing any pictures of someone else's baby, but I need you to rest assured that I took one thousand of them. I watched Marin walk into a gazebo filled with a hundred people who love her and burst into happy tears. She was the most beautiful bride, and her wedding was an affirmation that in spite of all the horrors in this world, there is still so much beauty and love to be grateful for.

I went to see PURPOSE on Broadway, written by one of my favorite people of all time, Branden Jacobs-Jenkins. After the show I was filled with so much creative energy and excitement (the show is a phenomenal, hilarious, moving, brilliant work of utter genius), that I walked back to my hotel buzzing. I sent Branden a breathless four minute voice memo about how lucky I felt to be living on this planet at the same time as him. Sure, the play won the Tony and the Pulitzer, but Branden also needed to hear it from me.

On Saturday night, at the wedding reception, I got a breaking news alert that the US military had bombed Iran. The terror crept back in as it inevitably does when the world's worst person is in command of the world's deadliest fighting force. I felt that sinking feeling I feel almost daily now, that unmoored feeling that anything could happen (and it could be worse than I can even imagine).

And then, I walked back through the park with my friends and tried to hold onto an ember of the joy I had felt on the longest day of the year. I will try to live with the cognitive dissonance – the joy of witnessing love, the blessing of friendship and sisterhood, the inexplicable magic I feel every time a group of people join their voices together in song, the buzzy inspiring feeling of seeing a great play, pressed up against the fear, the horror, the anger, and the uncomfortable apprehension of not knowing what comes next.

Will the cease fire last? Will we end up ensnared in another forever war? I do know that dropping bombs doesn't seem like a great way to convince a country that they shouldn't race to build their own. What kind of anger has been unleashed on the world that may eventually boomerang its way back to our shores? The future is up for grabs in ways that keep me up at night.

At the same time: I love my friends. I love love. I love theater. I seek joy.

The solstice is an opportunity to pause, to reflect and to celebrate. But like all moments, it is fleeting. Eventually, time spins on.