The Power of Ceremony
On September 21, 2024, I married the man I’d spent over ten years building a life with. Ten years. That’s long enough to cycle through a dozen couch pillows, learn each other’s quirks, and quietly wonder if we were already as “married” as we’d ever be.
But then we said our vows. A few days later, someone asked me, “So, does it feel any different being married?” They probably didn’t expect a serious answer. I wasn’t sure one was coming either. But before I knew it, I said, “Yes. It feels completely different.”
The truth of that surprised me. I thought we had crossed every emotional threshold long ago. What could possibly change after one day?
Turns out, a lot. Something about standing there, saying those words in front of the people who’ve known us and loved us, felt transformative. It wasn’t just about us anymore; it was about everyone witnessing our commitment, amplifying it, holding it with us. Ceremony has a way of doing that—taking the ordinary and turning it into something weighty and profound.
Life moves fast. And if we don’t pause to notice the important moments, they’ll pass us by.
That’s what ceremony is: a pause. A deliberate moment to say, This matters. On our wedding day, it felt like time stopped just long enough for us to mark what we were building together.
So yes, marriage feels different. It feels like love made visible, like life slowed down just long enough for us to see it even more clearly.
