Yesterday, I wrote about the tiny, noticed, death of a dove. Today, I am doing something I love to do and hardly ever write about–I’m an ordained celebrant and I’m celebrating a wedding.
Weddings are expressions of hope and courage. We give up being just ourselves, and look to another as part of our lives. There is one paragraph in the service I particularly love:
“Remember that your relationship itself has a destiny, that your marriage is alive and needs care and feeding and support. Keep it young and fresh by bringing yourself fresh to your marriage over and over again.”
That’s a hard task–to keep yourself fresh and bring yourself fresh to someone you know well, and may not see in the same rosy glow as you did a few years ago. It’s the real challenge of a marriage–to create a fresh day and another chance.
Best of all, to perform this ceremony, I’ll have to hike up into the Red Rocks of Sedona, Arizona, to a small and secluded spot about a mile from the trailhead. Hiking into a marriage, hiking out again. It’s such a rich metaphor.

The bride and groom, in their natural chapel, grounded and happy. The couple is Tonia and David Jenny, and I have permission to use their names. Tonia is the editor of my first book, Raw Art Journaling.
Of all the things I do—write, develop and run communication courses, create and teach journaling classes, coach clients in life changes and creativity—officiating at ceremonies feels most like a combination of all the others. It’s full of creation and energy and imagination, love and powerful growth.
The wedding involved a car ride, a jeep ride, and a hike. After the ceremony, we hiked back down the mile-long trail, enchanted at every corner by another breath-taking view.
I wish for Tonia and David the same trek through life–sometimes uphill, sometimes down, but always with a breathtaking realization that ther is something bigger in their view to focus on.
--Quinn McDonald is a celebrant of weddings, a creator of rituals, and a participant in the sacred moments of other people’s lives.














