CHAPTER 10

...

Wedding Zen

By this point in the ceremony, the guests should be eating out of the officiant’s hand. (Not literally, that would be gross.) By now the guests should be engrossed in the story, crying at how beautiful it is, and paying close attention because they have no idea what will happen or what will be uttered next. Once the guests are transfixed (Happy-notized!©), it’s time to get real.

It’s important to slow things down so everyone can grasp the importance and beauty of what they are witnessing. A party lurks just around the next few turns of phrase; this is one last opportunity to crank up the anticipation to squealing-burst levels. This moment is critical for balancing unique elements with meaning (like PBS).

When people think about their wedding ceremony, it is in the vaguest terms: they don’t want it to be too long. They don’t want it to be too serious. They don’t want it to be frivolous, but they don’t want it to go on and on either. By this point in the ceremony, whether couples have employed only a few ideas from this book or if they’ve taken it to heart and added creative flourishes to multiple segments of the wedding ceremony and wedding day, then this is the time to win over doubters, to assuage concerned parents, to keep the entire day genuine.

Zen is a mysterious term, one that connotes what Westerners call Eastern teachings and what Easterners just call teachings. Zen conjures images of gentle streams, a pile of stones impossibly balanced, the tranquility of green leaves, tubes of massage lotion, fresh air, quiet, solitude, manicured gardens, mountain breezes, immobile monks, or in extreme cases, immobile monks in quiet gardens next to gentle streams surrounded by impossibly balanced stones. (Mick Jagger in a headstand atop Charlie Watts.) Wedding Zen is an attitude, a return to calm, a state of relaxation, and harmony within a wedding venue. (I should trademark the phrase “Wedding Zen,” then accept money every time someone uses this phrase, then give that money to charity.)

Wedding days are the opposite of Zen (zany): they are busy, complicated, distracting, detail-crazed, hopeful, nerve-wracking, exciting, burdened by unusual clothing, sloppy runners, wildflowers, wild flower girls, and a bunch of people who are about to become in-laws. Wedding days are espresso; Zen is herbal tea.

I like to carve out Wedding Zen for the couple near the end of the ceremony. Within the Zen, I like to imply that we do not have to rush, that the moment we are in is the only moment that matters, that the details of this once-in-a-lifetime experience (twice, tops) are full and clear and memorable. To do this, I slow things down and get as holistic and spiritual as I can ever be accused of getting. I get everyone to focus on what is. No more, no less.

To this point, the ceremony has had great storytelling, humor, theatrical elements that play on visual gags and make use of the space, and beautiful, true sentiments about the couple that resonate with everyone present. By this point, the guests’ heartstrings have been pulled in multiple directions and now is the time to let them be whatever and wherever they may be being.

Here is what I do to invoke Wedding Zen:

I have couples notice the feeling of each other’s hands, the new feeling of having those rings on their fingers.

If it is an indoor ceremony, I direct their attention to the temperature of the room, how perfect and comfortable it is.

If they decided to risk the entire ceremony on the whims of Mother Nature without an indoor or at least sheltered Plan B, I draw their attention to the raindrops, the pummeling wind, the snow, the blazing heat, the humidity . . .

I turn their attention to every single sound they hear including their cousin’s baby crying, the snapping of their photographer’s camera, the buzz of cicadas, the air-conditioning, the birds chirping, the mosquitoes buzzing. I keep it real: this is the time to let whatever is in everyone’s mind be in everyone’s mind. If we hear a helicopter, I acknowledge the helicopter. If we hear seagulls, I acknowledge the seagulls. If I hear a fire alarm because someone knocked over one of those standing candle-vase things, I mention the fire alarm. These are details couples will remember. I note every obvious sound—there will only be a few, so it won’t take long.

I note what they see: the person they love more than anyone standing in front of them, the friends and family they love seated before them. I remind them that all these people have traveled from so far away to be with them because they love them, and support them, and wish only the best for them, forever. I note how happy that these details should make them feel. I invite them to hold on to this feeling in their hearts and minds forever.

It would be easy, almost too easy, to plant a surprise line here, to puncture the moment with a punch line about the guests being here to enjoy free booze, or about the bride’s parents sensing money flying out of their wallets. It would be SO EASY, but I don’t recommend it.

And then—my favorite moment in the entire ceremony, the moment that I look forward to more than any other moment the whole night (other than my first cocktail hour beer): I have the couple think back, if they can, to the very moment they met.

Ahhh! (Anybody have a tissue?) It’s such a great moment, a moment that bridges the absolute beginning of their relationship with the current moment. In a flash, they can glimpse themselves as who they were then and who they are now.

When they’ve had a few seconds to think about that, and I’ve seen the acknowledgment of that distant moment in their eyes . . .

. . . it’s time to marry the golly gee heck out of them!!!!!

Golly gee heck?

I don’t want to alienate any of my readers with profanity.