Jack Tame: We should celebrate more milestones

The big news from my summer this year, is that I got married last weekend. 

Well, technically actually that’s not correct. My wife, Mava, and I were legally married back in May. But last weekend we had a little wedding. The white dress, the tux, the families in from different parts of the country and the World, the hair, the pocket squares, the petit fours, the rings, the champagne, the stress.   

Mava chose to enter to a beautiful song by Bon Iver. I chose to enter to – who else? -  Kanye West. I’m not gonna bore you with all the details in the World except to say it was so good. So good. So special. The stress of the lead up melted away. Mava and I felt present. And more than anything, we felt incredibly loved.   

And although truthfully I’m feeling a bit emotionally depleted, I’ve found myself this week reflecting on a couple of things about our day. 

There are two vital elements in a wedding. One is obviously that you make a profound commitment to someone else. You solidify and formalise the bond and the relationship between the two of you.  

The other is that you do it in a room full of people who are important to you.  

I know this is a bit of a cliche, but one of those things... I really want to do again.  

Modern life is tricky. We’re all on different orbits. In different countries. Different cities. Kids, jobs, career trajectories: we’re all at different ages and stages of life. But what a privilege it is, a *rare* privilege, to pull the handbrake of push the big red button, and get all of those planets to line up together, if only for a night. How amazing it is to look around a room, to recognise all the faces beaming back at you, and know that you and each of those people have a special connection.  

Culturally, I reckon we can sometimes be a bit lousy at celebrating milestones. Getting married has made me determined to do better, to have more parties, to break the glass and hit the red button again. 

The morning after our celebration, I woke before dawn. I was exhausted, running on fumes, but still buzzing. Before my wife stirred, I kissed her on the cheek, walked down to the beach and slipped into the water. I lay, floating on my back, bobbing in the tide, processing everything.  

I felt so warm. So content. So lucky. So loved. 

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