OK, why did I get up on a Saturday morning to watch a royal wedding? What was it about saying Prince Harry get married? What was the allure? Why were people all over the world sucked into this extravaganza? It is not reality for most of the world. Who spends over $30 million on a one hour wedding? That is the more than most of the world would ever, ever ,ever make in a lifetime. It’s ridiculous, gluttonous, extreme. And yet....I got up and watched it.
Harry, while a Royal, was just a boy when his mom died. His grief and life were on full display. His acting out, his misbehaving, was for all to see. Just a boy who grew up and found his way and a wife.
Meghan, just a girl. She comes from a divorced home. Grew up in America. She had drive and she wanted to act. She was tenacious and she succeeded. A biracial, American, divorcee marries a Prince of England. That’s a story, an incredible story. So I watched. The sweet exchanges of their faces, the words shared between them that no one else could hear. Listened to the choices of music, passages and personalization of the spectacle the wedding was. It’s seem to me it was like them. Do I care about Harry and Meghan? I couldn’t really say, I don’t know them! And yet I’m happy for their fairytale. For the hope they represent, the dreaming. The idea something extraordinary can happen. And the truth is in life we never know when something miraculous can happen. Even after tragedy and sadness, incredible jewels can emerge.
We can hope and look for those moments. And, so I watched, tuned out the gross display of wealth and other absurdities and just relished for a moment the joy they shared.
Hope. Dreaming. Looking for the magic. Period. Where do you look for the magic? Hope? Dreams?
