I usually hate weddings. My wife and I went to one last night.
See, I’m pretty introverted. Give me a room of between 2–7 people, and I’m good. Expand it much more and I start freaking out a bit. I wouldn’t say it cripples me. I can hold my own. It’s just not my thing.
As stressed as I was driving to the venue, I somehow found the wherewithal to consciously take note of my fraying nerves and make a self-awareness exercise out of it. Because, why not, right?
So, upon walking into the venue, instead of putting on my game face and trying to be extroverted, like I sometimes do, I decided to just be fine with being a bit on the socially reserved and awkward side.
As soon as I did that, I was able to chill. My conversations with people flowed quite well. I was more relaxed and receptive because I wasn’t thinking about saying the next, most clever thing.
It was an incredible setting. Perfect fall weather. Just enough rain to keep it interesting. Killer sunset. Changing colors. And two people at the epicenter of it all — two friends of ours — deeply in love, and celebrating their love with us.
All of a sudden, the previously introverted hell that is a wedding was healed. I was focusing on our friends’ love for each other, everyone else’s love for each other, and the love between me and my wife.
I turned this thing to an all-out Lovefest (which is what it should be, right?).
Focusing on the love causes more love to show up.
Looking around, all I could see was love (plus a few token drunk people). All I could feel was love. And all I was was love.
But then, the real challenge hit… The dance floor.
I hate the dance floor. I can’t win. I’m either completely reserved and refusing to dance. Or, I’m making entirely inappropriate gestures which involve a lot of hip-thrusting and a violent biting of my bottom lip. Both of which result in a smack on the shoulder from my wife.
But, again, somehow, I was able to consciously work my spiritual muscles. I became fine with the fact that I’m a horrible dancer and allowed myself to dance. Horribly. And focus on the love, like before. Remember, Jonas, the love. Ugh…
And, whattdya know? It was fun.
Yes, I bit my bottom lip a few times, and got the smack from the wife, but I just allowed myself to be in my own body and move to the love that surrounded me. That’s it.
Our friends and their families made it easy to do. They oozed love. Looking around on the dance floor, I saw at least four generations of humans with smiles on their faces as people moved to the acoustic music a couple friends of mine were strumming away on.
What got me was the old people. Dancing. And when they weren’t dancing, they’d sit in chairs at the edge of the dance floor smiling from ear to ear and seemingly soaking up the love that exuded from the people in front of them. I felt like I was playing a small role in this microenvironment that acted as a living, breathing, sweating, beer-fueled fountain of youth.
My wife and I drove away happier people. Both more in love as ever. Like we’d caught a bug. A love bug.
Congrats, Lauren and Nick. Thanks for sharing the love with us.