It's Not All About You (Except Of Course On Your Wedding Day)

There was a time when humans believed that everything revolved around the Earth. The sun, the moon, the stars, all orbiting dutifully around us like very obedient wedding guests.

Then along came Nicolaus Copernicus, and he really upset the apple cart by pointing out that, actually, we’re not the centre of the universe at all.

Which, if you think about it, is both humbling and slightly inconvenient.

Ever since the Copernican Revolution, we’ve had to accept that we are just one small part of something vast, mysterious, and occasionally determined to rain on your outdoor ceremony.

And yet… on your wedding day, I am entirely in favour of ignoring all of that. Because for one glorious, joy-filled, slightly windswept moment, the world does revolve around you.

The Delicious Freedom of a Humanist Ceremony

When you get married with a humanist celebrant (hello, that’s me), something rather lovely happens. There’s no off-the-shelf script. No “repeat after me” that sounds like you’ve wandered into someone else’s life. Instead, we build your ceremony around you. Your story: how you met, how you nearly didn’t, how you did. Your people: the ones who know you best and love you anyway. Your life, in all its messy, funny, utterly unique detail. It's your own small act of cosmic rebellion.

Take that, Copernicus.

For that moment, you are the centre. Not in an ego-driven, diva-demanding sense (although a little diva energy is entirely acceptable), but in the most human way possible. You are seen. You are known. You are celebrated.

And Then… The Universe Gently Expands Again

Now, I could pretend that this state of affairs continues indefinitely. That once married, you will glide through life with the universe orbiting obligingly around you, your every whim catered to, your laundry mysteriously folding itself and the bin always being emptied before it reaches overflowing.

I have been married long enough to tell you that this is not the case.

And actually, thank goodness. Because living as though we are permanently at the centre of everything is surprisingly hard work. It’s a bit like trying to hold the whole sky in place: exhausting, pretty thankless, and ultimately impossible. There is something far more grounding—and far more beautiful—about realising that we are not the centre after all.

We are part of something.

From Spotlight to Constellation

The couples I work with aren’t trying to be the centre of the universe.

They’re building something better.

They’re choosing each other again and again. They’re making space: for difference, for growth, for the odd bad mood and the occasional questionable life decision. They’re weaving themselves into a wider world: family, friends, community, shared history.

It’s less spotlight, more constellation.

And if you’ve ever been out on a clear night—perhaps on a boat off the west coast, with the inky sea quietly rocking you and a golden retriever leaning companionably against your leg—you’ll recognise the beauty in this.

Van Gogh knew it when he painted 'The Starry Night'—a sky alive with movement and light, where each star burns with its own quiet intensity and yet is all the more beautiful because it belongs to something greater. Perhaps that’s why this painting has become so iconic. It moves us deeply. We recognise a truth in it, something we already know but rarely name. The stars are at their most beautiful not when one shines alone, but when they are held together in patterns.

A Moment at the Centre. A Life in Connection.

So here’s what I think a wedding ceremony really offers. For a brief, shining moment, everything gathers around you. Your story is held up, turned gently in the light, and witnessed by the people who matter most. You stand at the centre: not because you always will be, but because this moment deserves to be honoured.

And then, softly, the world widens again. You step back into it: not diminished, but connected. Not alone at the centre, but side by side: part of something larger, steadier, more inclusive.

We are both small and shining and also part of a vast, shared whole.

And that’s where the real magic lives. Not in being the centre of the universe, but in finding your place within it, together.

If you’d like a ceremony that gives you your moment at the centre and honours the beautiful, complicated constellation you’re part of, I’d love to help you create it.

Just don’t ask me to control the weather.

Even I have my limits.

The Starry Night, by Vincent Van Gogh