Wedding Rituals of the World, part 1

We haven't designed the ceremony yet, though we have many hazy ideas in mind.  But as we look at  weddings of our friends, and those we read about, we're finding elements that we are (and are not) considering for ourselves.

Here's one we like:  last summer, we were at our friends Neoma and Ben's wedding in northern California.  One of the parts of the ritual was a large clear vase surrounded by smaller glasses filled with colored sand.  During the ceremony, Ben, Neoma, Ben's mother and father, and Neoma's mother all poured some of the colored sand into the larger vase, to symbolize difference coming together in ways that can never be reversed.  The urn and colored sand also made its way to the reception, where we were all invited to add our own colors to their composition.  So much nice about that:  the idea that the whole community has their place in a marriage, the different colors still being distinct while remaining part of the composition, the continuation of part of the ceremony throughout the rest of the evening.  (In fact, that whole wedding was so wonderful that I proposed to Nora late that night—though I knew earlier that week that I would. And, although she accepted, she also made me propose again the next day when I wouldn't be under the dual intoxications of champagne and their wonderful wedding.)

Here's one we're not so hot about:  in traditional Japanese weddings, the bride wears a white shiromuku or long dress.  The white symbolizes not only virginal purity as in the West, but also the fact that white clothing can be dyed any color, so the bride is ready to receive the colors of the groom.  The accompanying hat, the tsunokakushi, covers the bride's horns (anger).  But the seemingly subservient bride has a secret: "In their bosoms, brides have a small sword (futokorogatana)." 

Umm... the bride is unstable and unformed and needs to take on the characteristics of her husband, but has some form of defense when he becomes overbearing? Not exactly the body of metaphors we want to claim.

So both Nora and I will come to the day unarmed and unhatted, each wearing our own colors and not relying on the identity of the other to change our own.  And we'll celebrate the ways in which all of you have already helped to make us who we are.