“‘There is only one happiness in life – to love and be loved.’
George Sand penned these words…”
And it was these words that often opened the wedding ceremonies, on beaches, in banquet halls, and on hotel balconies. I spoke them softly as the ceremony officiant, listening intently as they resonating across crowds of well-dressed guests. But I kept my eyes focused on the brides and grooms standing right in front of me – standing so close that the smell of their fresh sweat drifted right through their perfume. I continued the ceremony with romantic phrases carefully spoken, and they would stare nervously into each other’s eyes as the words washed over them in that timeless twenty minutes of love’s glory.
I treasure my memories of all those weddings. I frequently think of my brides and grooms and am grateful that I could share in that moment of divine union. As a bonus, it was a rare opportunity to shamelessly indulge in romanctic poetry, pictures and stories, and also vicariously swim in the ocean of love that surrounded those timeless events.
Somehow those couples had been touched by a divine blessing and it shone brightly from their eyes on that day. And each wedding day as I put on my robes and stole, I tried to set aside the thought that my own heart couldn’t even recall that precious emotion. As a single middle aged woman, this was about as much romance as I thought I was going to get without taking that seemingly dangerous plunge myself.
I was a bride once. Perhaps I did have fleeting moments of what I thought was real love. But I never really believed that anyone had loved me deeply, down to my soul - not even my parents. I believed myself to be the third child, the ugly child, the child left over after the spots of first born son and pretty girl were filled. And through my life, I had always imagined that what I really needed was to somehow touch my inner child and show her that she was valuable, to somehow recognize and acknowldege her in a way that would allow her to, at last, step into the light.
And one morning, after a particularly Magic Night, I found that there was a gift, a blessing of just this kind of love waiting there for me.
For a number of nights previously, I had been diligent about putting on my Captain’s Uniform for my Magic Night’s journeys: Before I fell asleep, I called forth my authentic self, my inner wisdom and my divine essence. Then I asked for all of these facets of my being to be harmonious and whole and supportive during my night’s journey. A few nights ago, I also invited the divine essences of the ascended masters – kind of like inviting an ascended master dream team. I wasn’t selective. Whoever decided to show up was fine with me. One morning I awoke and had the distinct impression that they had been doing powerful things with me during the night. Perhaps it was some kind of healing or initiation. I also understood somehow that I would know more in time. Was this what they were hinting at – this thing about feeling loved?
Then a wondrous, blissful and sactified love came to me, washed through me, and then dove deep into darkest recesses of my being. This love didn’t have a face attached, no romance, it was no hormonally driven fantasy. It was deeper and bigger. This was the spirit of the cosmos, along with countless beings in it, helping me to feel truly seen, deeply accepted and honored for all that I was – my past, my present, my future. It loved all my deepest hurts and feelings, all my anger and shame, all my talents and gifts. In those few minutes, I floated in that feeling, doing my best to sink into its softness so that I would remember it.
It also occurred to me that I had flexed my ‘love’ muscles for others on a global scale with a number of Magic Nights journeys and meditations for world service. I had given back. And now the two pieces were fitting together.
To love and be loved is a great thing. But to love because it’s who you are, and to be loved for all that you are from a source as large as the universe, was beyond what I could have imagined for myself.
And I am eternally grateful.
Dr Katie Hawn