Wedding readings for older couples
I am currently working on a fabulous ceremony for a gorgeous couple who are both older and neither of them have been married before. They want to acknowledge their pasts and recognise what they bring to the table. Here are some reading suggestions for couples:
Why marriage? – by Dena Acolatse
Because of the depths of me, I long to love one person, With all my heart, my soul, my mind, my body…..
Because I need a forever friend to trust with the intimacies of me, Who won’t hold them against me, Who loves me when I’m unlikable, Who sees the small child in me, and Who looks for the divine potential of me……
Because I need to cuddle in the warmth of the night, With someone who is thankful for me, With someone I feel blessed to hold……
Because marriage means opportunity To grow in love in friendship……
Because marriage is a discipline To be added to a list of achievements…….
Because marriages do not fail, people fail When they enter into marriage Expecting another to make them whole……
Because, knowing this, I promise myself to take full responsibility For my spiritual, mental and physical wholeness I create me, I take half of the responsibility for my marriage Together we create our marriage…..
Because with this understanding The possibilities are limitless and our love will last forever…..
Sonnet 116, by William Shakespeare
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when its alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me prov’d,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.
Love Monkey by Edward Monkton
t was once the custom that every monkey would carve for himself a wooden heart. And the heart that Love Monkey carved was the most beautiful of all. Its contours were soft and rounded, like an ancient pebble sculpted by the oceans. Its surface was smooth and shiny like liquid silk, and it shone as bright as a ruby in the desert sun. “Take your hearts with you wherever you go,” said their teacher. “Nurture them as a mother nurtures her new-born baby. For when you want to give of yourself fully, your heart is the only true gift you will have.”
That night, Love Monkey had a dream. He dreamt of a monkey whose smile lit up his soul like sunshine. He held out his heart to her, so radiant, so splendid and so new. She took him in her arms, and he felt truly, perfectly, at peace. When Love Monkey awoke, he resolved that, from that day forward, he would search for his Dream Monkey until he could stand before her and give to her his perfect heart.
He travelled through deserts…and climbed over mountains. He trekked across forests…and sailed many oceans. Love Monkey looked after his heart as best he could, but the storms that he endured on his travels chipped away at its surface and each new adventure reshaped it. By the time he arrived on the last distant shore, his heart was so changed by the patina of time that it barely resembled his old heart at all.
And then, he saw her. Standing before him, as radiant and as beautiful as the sunshine, was his Dream Monkey. At first, he could not speak. But then, from somewhere deep inside himself, he found a voice. “I have travelled the world over to find you, and to give you my heart,” he said. “But now that I am finally with you, I see how foolish I have been. You are so beautiful, so perfect. And my heart that was once so smooth, so bright and so new is now not something that I could even bring myself to show you,” and he turned to go. “Let me see it,” said Dream Monkey. She took his heart and held it up to the light. “Nothing to me is more beautiful. Every fissure tells a story. Every blemish makes you more real. All my life I have been waiting for a heart like this; a heart that speaks the truth.” “Come here,” she said. “I have something for you too.” In her hand was a tiny golden heart. It was as worn and as scratched as Love Monkey’s own…and it was the most precious thing that he had ever seen.
Love Monkey put his arms around her, and they held each other for a long, long time. “I shall treasure this heart for as long as I live,” said Dream Monkey, running her fingers over its ridged and dimpled surface. Then they looked into each other’s eyes and, feeling the joy of truth in their souls for the first time, they began to laugh. And often they sit together still, holding each other’s hearts in their warm hands, lifting them to the light…and laughing. Always laughing.
An Excerpt from Captain Corelli’s Mandolin by Louis de Bernières
Love is a temporary madness.
It erupts like volcanoes and then subsides.
And when it subsides, you have to make a decision.
You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together
that it is inconceivable that you should ever part.
Because this is what love is.
Love is not breathlessness,
It is not excitement,
It is not the promulgation of eternal passion.
That is just being “in love” which any fool can do.
Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away,
And this is both an art and a fortunate accident.
Those that truly love, have roots that grow towards each other underground,
And when all the pretty blossom have fallen from their branches,
They find that they are one tree and not two.
I Will Be Here, by Steven Curtis Chapman
Tomorrow morning If you wake up And the sun Does not appear I will be here
If in the dark We lose sight of love Hold my hand And have no fear Because I will be here
I will be here When you feel like being quiet When you need To speak your mind I will listen
And I will be here When the laughter turns to crying Through the winning, losing and trying We’ll be together, because I will be here
Tomorrow morning If you wake up And the future Is unclear I will be here
As sure as seasons Are made for change Our lifetimes Are made for years So I will be here
I will be here So you can cry on my shoulder When the mirror Tells us we’re older I will hold you
And I will be here To watch you grow in beauty And tell you all the things You are to me, I will be here
I will be true To the promise I have made To you and to the one Who gave you to me I will be here
And just as sure as seasons Are made for change Our lifetimes are made for years So I will be here We’ll be together, I will be here
Philip Pullman – The Amber Spyglass
I will love you forever; whatever happens. Till I die and after I die, and when I find my way out of the land of the dead, I’ll drift about forever, all my atoms, till I find you again… I’ll be looking for you, every moment, every single moment. And when we do find each other again, we’ll cling together so tight that nothing and no one will ever tear us apart. Every atom of me and every atom of you…
We’ll live in birds and flowers and dragonflies and pine trees and in clouds and in those little specks of light you see floating in sunbeams… And when they use our atoms to make new lives, they won’t just be able to take one, they’ll have to take two, one of you and one of me, we’ll be joined so tight.
The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams
“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nanna came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”
“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”
“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.
“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”
“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”
“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”