Wedding rings ... The rings around Saturn … The Lord of the Rings … Earrings … the ring in the toilet and the bath tub … the luminous ring around the moon at night … rings of all kinds …
As far as we know the first rings worn were found on the fingers of Mummies in Egypt and in Greek urns. In Ireland they started using rings to symbolize engagement in the 17th Century. These would have a clasped hand, a crown and heart engraved on them symbolizing friendship, love and loyalty.
The Egyptians were the first to use rings to symbolize a woman belonged to man … but they meant it like slavery. It’s funny how this tradition continues in a lot of marriages.
It’s only been in recent times that a wedding ring symbolizes equality in a relationship. It’s funny though, most relationships have a dominate person and another who, for whatever reason, is submissive. It doesn’t have anything to with gender though it can I guess.
There are two wedding rings in the second bedroom lying with a bunch of other things on a silver plate in the shape of a crab. The crab claws from a ring around the plate. I wander around the house pondering these things. I told my friend Dedra recently that I need to have a garage sale of wedding rings.
Honestly, what do you do with old wedding rings?
Are they relics of the past like those on mummified fingers? Do I pass them on to the kids when they married? Do I take them to Pawn Shop? Do I walk down to the ocean and throw them as far away as I can in some ritual of days are gone? Like Fordo Baggins do I wear them on a chain around my neck because they represent the hurt and darkness of lost love?
Love never dies says the Bible.
But it sure as hell can stop! It can become stagnant and stale. It can be twisted into hate. It can become violent. It can be passive to the point where it is meaningless. Or it can you soar!
But it never dies.
Over the past several months I’ve had a lot of company and people leave things. On my table is a child’s sock. On another table lay a pair of earrings. There is a book that I’m not interested in reading. There is Tupperware that I do not recognize. There are clothes that are not mine.
I hold on to these things believing that whoever left them will eventually return and reclaim what they’ve lost.
Then I’m struck by the wedding rings and comprehend that there’s no getting back what was lost when they were taken off. It took me a long time to take mine off. I liked wearing it. I liked the way my fingers would tan and there would be this white circle around the one because the ring prevented the sun from going there.
Hmmmmm …
The ring stopped the sun from shinning completely.
It gives me pause.
At the end of “The Lord of the Rings” Gollum finally recapture the ring of power by biting off Frodo’s finger and falls into the abyss loving what he’s recaptured. A fingerless Frodo survives … but he is changed and is never the same again. Finally recognizing this, he sets sail with others who have also been changed leaves and his life behind … for another.
I send love to those who shared rings with me. They deserve the very best. They earned it by putting up with me. I earned it too by putting up with them. And the love doesn’t die but it will ever be the same again.
Looking at the earrings I find myself laughing … and telling myself that I should change the kind of rings that I’ve been using. I always meant to get my ear pierced but just never got around to it.
As I’m setting sail towards this new life I wonder if three’s the charm on getting a new ring. Or … perhaps it’s finally time for that earring.
