… but by the moments that take your breath away. I can’t find a source for this quote but it is one of the most inspir­a­tional texts for me.

Another is one that I found on a piece of beau­tiful swirly red scrap­book paper in the US, a quote from Goethe: We are shaped and fash­ioned by what we love.

The last few weeks have whirled by, what with new job and travel to Sydney and visits from friends, but most con­stant through it is the gooey usness of sit­ting together with Jezebel (she made it out of man­datory deten­tion safely, unlike that poor man this week), or kissing in the checkout line, or snug­gling in the morning.

I realise I haven’t written up the wed­ding itself yet (I’ve been waiting for the ‘offi­cial photos’ to come through but they haven’t; also I have had no time). 

In the morning, Jack and Doug were at the amphi­theatre. Jack did a cleansing and asked per­mis­sion from the ancestors to hold a cere­mony there. I meant to expli­citly declare we were on Wur­undjeri land as part of the cere­mony, but I forgot. Doug ritu­ally swept the circle. I wanted to go up there and do stuff too, but I had my hair done and there was gen­eral con­sensus that I should stay out of the rain, so Daniel and I stayed home and fretted. Point­less, really, because in the end, I didn’t like my hair very much at all and the rain messed it up anyway! None of which mattered on the day in the slightest.

I remember grin­ning like a loon most of the day. I remember our goblet pouring cere­mony again. This time Doug pledged to bring ‘whimsy’ to the rela­tion­ship after he had been barely aud­ible and then yelled “I’m here!” when asked to declare his inten­tions. Our vows were ter­rific – from Seline’s book, not written by us, but great – 

I, Douglas,
promise you Ros­anne, to be your love, com­panion and friend,
Your ally in con­flict, your com­rade in adven­ture,
Your con­sol­a­tion in adversity, your con­fed­erate in rev­elry,
Your accom­plice in mis­chief and your partner in par­ent­hood.
I pledge my love to you
And joy­fully accept the com­mit­ments of this, our mar­riage.

The looks in each others’ eyes on ‘your accom­plice in mis­chief’ were great. I love our rings: mine white gold with cham­pagne amber, cognac amber and garnet, Doug’s red gold with the same stones. Again, photos later I guess. Dan­cing to ‘our song’ (“Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol) was delightful and romantic until the partner of Dad’s friend Rusty came over and tapped us mid-kiss and gruffly said, “We have to go. We have better things to do.” He has a very strange sense of humour. The cake was deli­cious and looked fant­astic. The food was amazing – I’m still so incred­ibly chuffed that Jess found gluten-free, vegie catering with the Asylum Seeker’s Resource Centre so that our wed­ding helped people! The organic wine was deli­cious but we ordered for a hot day and mis­judged com­pletely. Many won­derful people fol­lowed our requests and donated to char­ities on our behalf instead of giving us presents. We have yet to send out thank you cards, but we will. We forgot to get people to sign the guest book. We remembered to ask for speeches and we got some lovely ones and also Dad going off on some tan­gent about whether Sydney or Mel­bourne has better food.

It was a won­derful day. If I am shaped and fash­ioned by what I love, then I look for­ward to dis­cov­ering what I become, my love.