It’s suddenly become clear to me that a tipping point is not a no-brainer.

In 1988, I attended Jean Houston’s Mystery School. And during that incredible year, I learned the phrase “100 monkeys”. This originated from a study in the Indonesian Islands of a group of monkeys, and what the scientists found was that, if 100 monkeys on a particular island picked up the habit of an act (washing their food, for example), then all of a sudden, monkeys on neighboring islands would also start washing their food.

No physical connection at all, just some kind of juice in the ozone.

For me now, that’s what a tipping point really is. It’s the knowing/belief of a group of individuals — people, earthworms, monkeys — that inserts a dynamic into the no-osphere (a definition of that is at: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Noosphere — one of many sites) and from that, all kinds of things are possible.  Thanks.

It’s suddenly become clear to me that a tipping point is NOT a no-brainer.

In 1988, I attended Jean Houston’s Mystery School. And during that incredible year, I learned the phrase “100 monkeys”. This originated from a study in the Indonesian Islands (or maybe the Japanese Islands) of a group of monkeys, and what the scientists found was that, if at least 100 monkeys on a particular island picked up the habit of an act (washing their food, for example), then all of a sudden, monkeys on neighboring islands would also start washing their food. No physical connection at all, just some kind of juice in the ozone.

For me now, that’s what a tipping point really is. It’s the knowing/belief of a group of individuals — people, earthworms, monkeys — that inserts a dynamic into the no-osphere (if you want a definition of that, go to: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Noosphere — one of many sites) and from that, all kinds of things are possible.

I belong to an intentional community named Mystics In Training. We meet three times each year in different parts of the US, and our next meeting will be about politic, as values, voices and visions. Interesting. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to be with them physically in August — but I’ll be with them in spirit. And I wonder if they can include this idea of a tipping point as part of that discussion. Frankly, I think, if they do, it will be a lot richer for that.

If anyone reading this has thought about a tipping point, please share your ideas with all of us. It’s a bit tricky to think about. Thanks.

Rev. Marian, All Ceremonies Beautifully Done phone 847-491-0603 cell 847-971-4371 www.revmarian.comLink to reviews: http://www.weddingwire.com/vendor/VendorViewStoreFront?mode=edit&tab=reviews

Halfway through their script at the wedding I realized it was September 10th — the eve of 9/11′s 10th anniversary! Phew, when it hit me as I looked out at the bride’s side (Irish) and the groom’s side (Pakistani), I almost mentioned my realization — but the couple had not referred to it as part of their planning process so I felt I had no right to bring it up.

After the wedding, the groom’s grandfather came up to me — he and other family members had traveled from Pakistan to be present. He asked if I had seen him listening intently during the ceremony. “Yes, sir, I did notice, you were very attentive at both the rehearsal and tonight,” I responded. “Well, you see, I have to be honest — I was listening for a sour note. It’s so difficult to avoid them when two religions are coming together. But I didn’t hear one, not one. Thank you.”

I immediately gave credit to his grandson and bride who originated much of the script, and he accepted, then said: “I know, but you were the one saying the words, and I didn’t detect any hesitations on your part. I want you to know his mother and father and I would be very pleased if you would come and visit us in Pakistan.” WOW! I thanked him profusely, and said we could chat about it later.

What happened when I got into my car was a revelation. The valet handed me the keys, I drove to the exit of the parking lot and had to turn off the ignition. I was sobbing too hard to drive. It suddenly hit me that on the eve of 9/11, I had united two very different groups of people, Muslim and Catholic — and things had gone so well.

I looked back to the parking lot of the Notebaert Museum where the event was happening, and saw about a dozen young men dressed alike, standing around, smoking and chatting. They were the valet parkers — with time on their hands until later that night.

I got out of my car and called them together. “Did you all notice that there were two very different groups of drivers tonight?” I asked them. “Yes,” they agreed. And with tears rolling down my face, I shared with them what had just occurred.

“Wow, that’s awesome!” was what many of them said, then a couple of them took my hands and said “Thank you for telling us about this!” I was finally able to drive home.

Another blessed wedding ceremony, another tiny change in the way the world creates itself!

Then out to the far western suburbs to marry two Catholics, American and Mexican, in her family home. It was a strongly RC group, and I think they were surprised at how different (and lovely) a wedding could be outside the church. YAY!

That night, a Russian Jewish bride and American groom, both shy and excited — happening, very appropriately, at Zhivago in Skokie. Great celebration, and a great day!

The rest of the ceremony was very personal, sweet and meaningful — tailored for this special couple.

Then we come to this morning.  At 10:00 a.m., I met Rey and Sergio (and two of their dear friends) at their local bakery.  I was fortunate to assist them with their first commitment ceremony on 5/15/04 — over seven years ago!  Today, I led them through a brief but very moving civil union wedding so we could complete the signing of their new license.

The energy between them was powerful, soft and deep — there had been a few edges back at the original wedding, this time, there were none!  They told me that, in all this time, they have spent only one night apart — and that was hard for both of them.

As they turned to one another and spoke their deeply heartfelt vows, my eyes filled with tears.  Another miracle of connection, sharing and love — another covenant for me to witness and appreciate.

More tears, more sweetness this afternoon at the wedding of Kristen and Tony ‘way out west in the Naper Chapel.  Their connection runs strong and true, and the joy they radiated as they saw one another for the first time today was very special.  They had chosen the language in their script very carefully, and several of their guests asked me afterwards if they could get a copy of various sections.  When I said I would be glad to send sections to them if they emailed me, they were delighted, and said they would follow up with me soon.  Gratifying!

Is it any wonder that I love this work?  Depth, passion and commitment are my daily bread, and I get to be the doorperson for these couples as they step through to this new phase of their relationship.  Wonderfilled!

In my living room window, I have many plants — this is the story of two of them. On my birthday last year, my cleaning lady gifted me with an orchid — one of those supermarket specials. I was amazed and grateful.

I treated this new addition to my home with benign neglect. You see, I’ve been gifted with orchids before — and have gone out of my way to replant them, finding just the right soil, just the right pot, just the right window. They never bloomed, they never lived very long.

This time, I just placed the little plant inside of an existing pot half filled with soil. I left it in the same plastic pot it arrived in, made no effort to repot it — watered and fertilized it when I did the other plants.

Then, 8 days ago, I noticed it had three very big buds. The only extra care I took was to give it more water. The biggest bud blossomed into a beautiful orchid flower. WOW!

Over the next couple of days, I watched the Dracaena next to the orchid. It moved its leaves to gently touch the flower. So I turned it away from the orchid. Over the next few hours, the Dracaena extended its long, narrow leaves close to the bloom until they again connected.

All this is to notice that there is communication and connection even when we think there is none. Also, whenever she saw me affecting the plants, Pepper (small tabby cat) watched, and immediately came to me when I was done.

I welcome all of us, plants, animals and humans alike — to touch one another, to listen to one another — and especially NOT to disconnect for any reason whatsoever. Blessings to all, especially the mothers among us, Marian

I had a wedding at the Silver Lake Country Club in Orland Park yesterday afternoon, and knew how much time the drive would take because I had attended the rehearsal the previous afternoon.  But because the weather was threatening thunderstorms, I left an hour earlier than before.  The ensuing drive was truly terrible.

It wasn’t just the amount of traffic.  In fact, by the time I reached I-294 for the drive south, traffic was moving – slowly but still moving.  It was driving along side streets in order to reach the ramp to the expressway that was the problem.  Tree branches, even small trees, were knocked down by the sudden gusts of wind, and the bypass lanes were one-lane and very crowded.  I phoned the couple’s cell phone to let them know of my predicament, and they were very understanding.  In fact, all of their guests were in similar situations.

I arrived at the country club and parked my car exactly at the moment the wedding was scheduled to start — 6:30 pm.  My usual practice is to get to a venue 30 minutes ahead of time, this was unprecedented.  But guests were only beginning to make their way down to the site so my timing was not a problem.  And wonder of wonders, the sun came out to shine on this very special couple, and all of us there.  I told the bride:  “I don’t know who your connection is for weather up there, but it’s a good one!!!”  We all laughed, and celebrated their lovely wedding.

It might be the flower girl who proceeds all the way up the aisle with her basket of petals intact — then dumps it all in one go at the front. Yes!

Or the ring bearer, very young and very tired, who is carried up the aisle by his daddy and needs to keep the little pillow for his own tousled head. Sweet!

A few years ago, I wrote a little poem about this phenomenon — this humanizing through error — this creation of memories through mistakes. And I called it:

In Praise of Awkward

I wish I weren’t so perfect,
So right in every way,
‘Cause if I weren’t so perfect,
I’d be a lot more brave.

When I was one, I made mistakes,
Fewer when I was two.
Now I’m grown up and never err,
Which makes me scared, like you. . .

. . .’cause when you never make mistakes,
You’re perfect, yes, that’s true.
But oh how long you have to take,
Just checking things you do.

You check to get the words just right,
The music must be fine
And when your checking’s all complete,
You check just one more time.

So with this checking care you take,
There’s no time to be bold,
No time to state uncertain thoughts,
You’re checking ‘til you’re old.

I wish I weren’t so perfect,
So right in every way,
‘Cause if I weren’t so perfect,
I’d be a lot more brave.

Blessings to you, and for all of us, sweetly memorable weddings!

I thanked her, too, and told her that such feedback is very helpful for me – I really only go to my own ceremonies, and am just doing what feels right.  I learned early on to do this with the microphone — it’s always seemed important for the couple be heard saying their vows to one another.  And this is something that is often a surprise, a very moving one, for their guests.  Lovely.