A few days before my wedding, I prayed for all hands on deck. I am not talking about the ones who arranged the flowers, polished the silverware, or orchestrated all the moving parts. I am very grateful that Tom and I had a lot of support in this department.
I am talking about the unseen hands. The saints, the angels, loved ones passed on, and pretty much anyone up there who could help me find the grace I so badly wanted to embody that day.
I am not sure if it was this prayer or the sheer amount of energy and emotion surrounding us, but I believe my prayer was answered. Tom felt it too. And it left both of us in awe for weeks.
Now, I know I have shared quite a bit about my journey with Relationship Anxiety (RA) here. But I don’t think I have yet discussed the ways that RA became entwined with my spiritual life. Of course it is no surprise that this happened. Anxiety tends to dig its claws into what we care most about. And so for me, that meant my relationship with Tom and my Faith.
I spent nearly two years wading through intense confusion in these entangled areas of my life. This may seem like a tangent, but I bring it up because it offers the perfect framing for this Newsletter about our wedding.
That day was the most magical and sacred of our lives. The way it unfolded, even and including when stress and challenging emotions were running high, in the end felt nothing short of Divine Orchestration. Given the spiritual undertones of my RA, this was truly a full circle experience for me.
I wish that I could share every single “wink” or “nod” from the Universe that Tom and I experienced over the course of our wedding weekend. But of course, there are far too many for me to recount one by one.
I could tell you about the matching jackets that became a hilariously synchronistic inside joke. Or, I could explain how my Maid of Honor and I just so happened to have an extra dress for a last minute, but absolutely essential bridesmaid to join the party.
Or I could tell you about how the TV turned on all by itself as I was transferring my belongings to my late grandmother’s evening bag, just before my parents and I made our way to the ceremony. This is not the first time Nanny has shown up this way and we’ve since decided that it’s her calling card from beyond the veil.
I could tell you about all of these and countless others that somehow wove themselves together to create a palpable experience of some Great Mystery working behind the scenes. But rather than rattling off the whole list, what I hope to do here is share the story of my wedding in a way that weaves together just a few of these sparkling moments while braiding in two very important lessons that they reveal.
The first is that even my anxiety played a meaningful role in the magic that unfolded, making it crystal clear that sometimes we simply cannot see the Divine plan at play — even and especially when it is hidden beneath fear’s loud and imposing voice.
The second, and perhaps most important, is that these kind of miracles are happening all the time. All. The. Time. It is just whether or not we have the eyes to see them in any given moment.
I’d like to start by sharing a few thoughts on why it is actually quite common for RA to hook itself into a person’s spiritual life. I wrote about this in more general terms here, but to put it simply, it has a lot to do with anxiety’s intense need for certainty.
It doesn’t take much for one’s sense of spirituality to become wrapped up in a kind of anxious knot, where spiritual ideas, beliefs, and perceived experiences are corrupted and hijacked in a frantic attempt to find answers about the “rightness” of one’s relationship.
This self-perpetuating cycle agonized my life and relationship with Tom for a very long time. But as with all forms of neurosis, there is always a deeper invitation for profound healing and transformation hidden underneath it. And at this point in my journey, I believe that this is the real spiritual gem my psyche was prompting me to uncover the whole time.
My healing in this area ultimately required a renegotiation of how I relate with spiritual ideas. Some beliefs needed to be let go entirely, while others needed to be discovered and claimed as my own. Both required a kind of internal wrestling that I believe led me to a more mature and evolved set of spiritual beliefs that feel much more true to my heart.
I don’t think I would have been open enough to experience the magic that was present on our wedding day had I not gone through such a profoundly transformative process. I would have been too shut down. Too constricted. My perception too distorted.
Of course, it wasn’t entirely smooth sailing in the days leading up to the wedding. Like all forms of anxiety, RA very commonly flares up in high stress moments and especially around major life transitions. A wedding certainly checks both of these boxes. In those final days as the countdown ticked on, I experienced a full resurgence of every nightmare my RA liked to hook into.
Suddenly, the astrological weather I had interpreted as favorable just weeks prior, now spelt absolute and certain doom. Pre-wedding relationship tension felt like undeniable evidence that Tom just wasn’t the right person for me. I was even convinced that the detour we had to take because of a wildfire to get up north to our venue was a sign from God warning me to call it off before it was too late.
All of this sounds very dramatic, I know. And I assure you it was. But it also felt very, very real.
Thankfully, by this point in my journey I had hundreds if not thousands of hours of experience with this kind of thought spiral from hell. I knew that fighting it was futile and would only make my thoughts more dizzying. I also knew that there was only one thing with any track record of actually helping. And that was to surrender. Completely.
So, as Tom and I traversed the switchbacks on that detour mountain pass, I did my best to just hold on and breathe. A lot. I very imperfectly allowed my anxious brain and body to do what my anxious brain and body does, without getting swept away by the stories they were spinning — all while holding myself in as much loving compassion as I could muster.
Then, something miraculous happened.
My now husband — who was also barely hanging on while trapped in a car with me in a state that despite his best efforts he had absolutely no idea how to understand, let alone how to respond to — out of his own exasperation had a stroke of genius. That’s when he damn near forced me to eat a sandwich.
And I swear to the Almighty, I think that egg salad saved my life. I could feel my nerves calming with every bite. And while I am certainly not claiming that egg salad sandwiches are a cure for Relationship Anxiety, I am saying that while in the midst of nearly delusional states of panic, surrendering to the experience rather than trying to push it away, and taking care of our physical bodies is a really good place to start.
By the time Tom and I went to bed that night, the tormented state I had been trapped in felt more like a distant memory or some kind of hallucination. Thankfully, that was the last major appearance my RA made for the rest of the weekend. The next day, with about 36 hours before Tom and I would meet at the altar, the contrast in how I was feeling was palpable and it seemed to add a potency to my experience.
It felt as though the resurfacing of my anxiety, combined with the anticipation swirling around the events to come, catalyzed a refinement and attunement of my overall sensitivity. I felt more permeable — like the fullness of each moment was more available to me. It was like I could experience each encounter directly, without first moving through some kind of interpretive filter.
As our guests began arriving, each passing minute would only grow more and more surreal. Tom and I chose to wed in a location that was truly sacred for us, in the high desert mountains of Arizona. To see our dearest friends and family all gathered in a place so special to us, most of whom travelled thousands of miles to be there, felt like a sweet waking dream that I could hardly believe was unfolding before my eyes.
On the morning of the wedding, from the time I woke up I sensed something even more extraordinary. It was as if some otherworldly presence had descended upon me, gracing me with a potent and receptive clarity that I had only ever experienced in life’s most transcendent moments, like at the passing of a friend or the birth of a child.
I remember feeling inspired to skip my normal morning routine. I questioned this at first, but something about it felt too rigid, too forced. I needed to stay with the moment, to just flow with what I was feeling. So instead I decided to make a cup of coffee and take my journal outside to sit in the morning air.
As I sat there on the balcony of our honeymoon cabin, my attention danced from the page, to my breath, to my heart, to the trees, to the sun streaking through the dark morning clouds as they wisped across the sky. The light seemed brighter, the colors more vivid, the sensations in my body more alive. I felt like I was suspended in a kind of cocoon of soul, where I was open only to the things that truly mattered that day, like the beauty and sacredness of what Tom and I were about to do.
A few moments later, I nearly laughed in wonder when a gentle rain started falling. I closed my eyes, turned my face toward the heavens, and let the drops land on my skin. It felt like a cleansing, like the sky itself was blessing me before the most meaningful day of my life.
This great presence stayed with me as the busyness of the day unfolded. Even amidst the moments of stress and chaos, I felt a natural instinct to protect this gift I had been given. I remained sheltered deep inside my cocoon, moved slowly, spoke little, and did not waver from my intention of tending only to this most Holy encounter.
It rained on and off all day. But even despite our plans for a fully outdoor affair, I trusted completely that all was unfolding as it was meant to. The little mishaps and mistakes too — like how Tom ran out of time to shave before the ceremony, or that my veil kept falling off my head — felt perfect and by design, only adding texture and color to the story of our day.
A little over an hour before the ceremony was set to begin, the dark clouds cleared to reveal the most beautiful, crystal clear late summer day. Another blessing from the sky. Another affirming nod from some Great Mystery.
Those final moments went fast as I prepared to walk down the aisle with my Father. The altar, adorned with wildflowers, was set on a tall ridge overlooking a valley of Pines with purple mountains in the distance as far as the eye could see. The rows of chairs were set close and intimate, only steps away from where Tom and I would be standing. A magnificent Juniper hung her branches low over us all, holding everyone tightly together in a knowing and nurturing embrace.
When my Father and I finally turned the corner and I caught my first glimpse of the ceremony, I became flooded with emotion. I allowed it to flow completely unfettered through me. I didn’t hold anything back. I wanted to feel it all.
I remember locking eyes with our guests one-by-one and feeling overwhelmed that each pair of those eyes belonged to someone who went to great lengths to be there for Tom and I. That they chose to be present and bear witness to us on the most important day of our lives up to that point. That each person was someone we loved and who loved us in return.
As I processed down the aisle, time stood still in a transcendent haze. A great energy swirled around us, as if to open a doorway to an ecstatic place where holy and sacred things live right on the surface of perception. This is what I had been feeling in the days and hours leading up this moment. And now it was all rising to its zenith as I made my way towards my soon to be husband.
When we finally reached the altar, my Father placed my hands in Tom’s and he didn’t let them go for the rest of the ceremony. As we read our vows the wind began to swell, as if it too had been drawn into our vortex. And so with Mother Nature herself dancing and rejoicing around us, and without a single dry eye amongst our guests, Tom and I made that ground Holy as we promised our hearts to each other forever.
The evening continued and the sun streaked golden through the Pines as it set over our reception. Dusk gave way into night, and starlit merriment filled the dark mountain air. There was dancing and feasting and laughter, but given the choice I would have relived our ceremony over and over and over again.
When I woke the next morning, I wept in awe and gratitude for how beautiful it all was, and also how fleeting.
There is so much more of this story to tell. So many more moments I would like to preserve onto this page and into my heart forever. But I trust that there will be a time for those stories. That they will rise and fall within my being as they are meant to be told. As for the ones I share here, they leave me with a single reflection.
For any couple, those who have weathered the storm of RA or otherwise, the passage into marriage is a truly heroic ordeal — one that promises to lay to rest who we’ve been, as we trust fall into the unknown of who we will become.
When engaged with honestly, this rite has the capacity to blow us wide open. It can quite literally bring us to our knees, as it did for Tom and I. The internal wrestling I describe here is how the process unfolded for us, but will of course be unique to each pair and reflective of their own, often unconscious, fears and anxieties.
Painful as it is, I believe all of this is by Holy design. Having first descended to our depths, we are emptied and readied for the transcendent heights of the wedding ceremony to wash over us. It is here, in this ecstatic state that the baptismal waters of that new and unknown life change us, and bless our path for the real journey that is to come, the marriage itself.
This flash of Divine intervention is key in any transformative passage. And in the case of marriage, it is what illuminates that transfiguring moment where bride and groom emerge as husband and wife.
By the time Tom and I were hand-in-hand at the altar, there was nothing left in us to resist. Completely unarmed, the hurricane of emotions that swirled through us was like an elixir of Spirit. Wholly intoxicated, wide open, and utterly egoless, we drank deep, and the radiant light of Grace came pouring in.
Grace is the only word I can find to describe what Tom and I were blessed to receive on our wedding day. It was the most precious gift we could have ever been given. And I can’t imagine ever needing a “sign” more powerful than the one we surrendered to and received together.
kari ann levine 