Commitment: Our actions our intentions.

Relationship Growth: Technical and Actual.

Adults have typical relational actions that are rather prescribed by culture. These are the usual steps of taking someone home to meet their mother, creating friends as a couple, spending domestic time together, bringing him/her to obligatory office functions.

Somewhere in there is the development of a love life and mutual compatibility building or negotiating or discovery… Then the individuals are bumping the idea off of their trusted friends and family to see what the reviews are like. I suppose it happens on occasion that those who bring home Ted Kaszcinsky or Lassie are deterred from the “big mistake” by listening to the family or friends.

For second marriage candidates we have steps like getting to know the respective kiddos and enduring the potentially withering critique (which knows no bounds of acceptable allusion and civil double entendre) that may oft be offered by scornful children on behalf of the third-party parent, or in deference to Leave-it-to-Beaver-based resentments…

Then there is the ring that is not an “outward sign of an inner spiritual commitment.” Engagement rings are outward signs to a girl’s friends and family that the bum is not going to lead her on forever. Its size and tastefulness are both part of a vocabulary of jewelers and brides that I feel I am unfit to try and fathom much less explain in this little note.

Then there is all the wedding planning that is, to my understanding, rarely done by the man even if he is a marriage counselor of a professional caterer. The planning of weddings, like surgery, should only be done by professionals. Women are surgeons, and men are patients it seems.

A metaphor

But at the heart of all of this is a kernel of possibility. A seed of hope. The tiniest ivy start that will be blown under the trestle and will progress from thread to twine to rope as it grows. It will wrap weedy branch and bough tightly about the trestle and also will burrow itself into cracks of the adjacent home. Causing the trestle and the home to be woven together tightly by this third party. This ivy that magically climbs wall and trestle and binds them over years into single objects: as both are so enmeshed in this spread branch that neither can be seen at all, but ivy only.

It is this weed-like growth that creates its own beginning and path up the wall turning two things in to another, a single collection of green life holding fast the two in an impassioned grip allowing the wall and the trestle little room to exist less its planted covering.

The love a couple has is this aggressive coupler, this thirsty third party, this thorny joiner. The look of the lovely new trestle and the freshly painted siding are lost in the thick living mass of this violate intercourse of the two being pulled and held by this seed turned master. Their unsuspecting lives are subsumed by an unapologetic love and hunger for one another that is not two appetites, but a single urge, need, hunger that wraps them tightly into the one thick wall of this sturdy home. They are lost in their care and connection to one another. This is the part that is more than buying white dresses and choosing metal tokens. This is the hidden yet fully seen transition of two to one: Wrapped by absurd love in an ever increasing burden of care and need.



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