|The happy couple on their wedding day.|
After years of dating the wrong men, I decided to make a Man List, a list of all the traits and qualities I wanted in the perfect man for me. To activate the list, I felt I had to create a sacred ceremony that would "bring him to me." I had copied my list of 65 items onto two sheets of paper and placed them in a zipped plastic bag, ready to find the perfect place to bury it.
On a camping trip with my parents, I was at the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains along Highway 395. I knew I would find a place to bury my list here among the mountains and perfect light. As I was driving, a red-tail hawk swooped down and across the road right in front of me and landed on a rock outcropping. It was as if a giant arrow was pointing at that rock and angel's voices were singing....ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.
I pulled over and walked to the face of that mountain of volcanic rock, and with the list in my back pocket, I started climbing straight up. The outcropping was about two-stories high, a free standing like a cone of rock, and easy to climb. The volcanic rock was jagged and sharp. At one point I slipped and cut a gash in my leg that bleed profusely. Ah, sacrificial blood for my ceremony, I thought. Yes, I'm a bit weird.
Finally at the top, I had an amazing, 360 degree view of the Sierras, the White Mountains and Lake Crowley down below. Amazingly at the top amid all that black volcanic rock was an area of pure white sand, perfect for burying a list. I dug down into the cool dry sand and buried my man list. Then I stood up, arms raised over my head to the heavens and shouted to the universe, "Bring him to me." My request echoed off the canyon walls below. Then I climbed back down the way I came, cleaned my wound and drove home.
Fast forward six months. I found my soul mate and over the course of several months of dating, checked off 63 of the 65 items on my Man List. So this had to be the guy, right? On a ski trip to Mammoth, we stopped along Highway 395 and I took him to the spot where the universe answered by prayer and brought him to me. When we arrived, I took the beeline path to the face of the rock outcropping and started climbing, assuming my love would be right behind me. When I reached the top, he was already standing there! Apparently there is a gentle pathway coming up the backside of the outcropping that your grandmother could walk up. Me and my tunnel vision. I showed him the spot where I had buried my list and called to the universe.
That summer, we returned again to the area and Robbie suggested we visit my sacred spot again. This time we both walked up, hand-in-hand, the gentle path to the top. I was admiring the view when Robbie suggested that I check to see if my list was still there. So I knelt down and started digging in the sand. I had taken two handfuls when my fingers felt something. I dug a bit more and pulled out a red heart-shaped ring box. I gasped in surprise looking up to find Robbie poised precariously on one knee. (The top of the rock outcropping was quite small.)
"Marry me," he demanded, as I opened the box to find an antique ring with an amber stone. "Say yes, before I fall over." (His knee was shaking. I found out later he's not too good with heights, scared to dead, actually.)
"Yes, yes, yes," I shouted and we both stood up and embraced, kissed, hugged and cried.
A year later, we were married in a Renaissance peasant wedding of our own making, in woods surrounding our new home in Big Bear Lake. This June, on the 22nd, will mark our ten year wedding anniversary. We will renew our vows at the local Renaissance Faire with our four children performing the ceremony.
Sometimes life imitates art and sometimes art imitates life, and sometimes I can't tell which is which. When I fictionalized our story, friends and family were disappointed that I didn't stick to the "real" story. But no one would have believed the it. No drama, no dark moment, only bliss and happiness. It was just too perfect to be a work of fiction.