Preparation Is Part of the Ceremony

As a nature-based celebrant, the ceremony does not begin on the day, it begins well before. Preparation, to me, is not a checklist of logistics or a run-through of vows. It is ceremony in itself. It is an act of honouring, of listening, of aligning with something far greater than just time and place. It is protocol. And protocol is sacred.

Before every ceremony I lead, I make a pilgrimage to the site where two souls will stand and make their promises. This is not just about checking the view or seeing where the chairs might go. It is about communion with the land, with the spirits of place,and with the ancestors who still linger in the winds and trees. My training in both the Hawaiian lineage and in Druidry has taught me this sacred approach. One lineage speaks in chants and oceans, the other in groves and standing stones, but both agree: you ask permission first.

So I travelled to the site of a July wedding for a lovely couple who have entrusted me with their vows. And from the moment I arrived, the land was talking. Continually. Whispering, humming, revealing. I walked gently, barefoot where I could,and found a great horse chestnut tree. It spoke of a resident adder curled around its roots. It spoke of life, new life, emerging from the waters of the dam. I bowed low and asked the ancient ones of this place: May we be here? May we stand in ceremony, with love, and truth and hope, under your gaze?

I asked for a clear sign. No guesswork. No vague nudges. I needed a shining yes.

It had been grey and clouded all day. Still, I waited.

And then, the clouds parted. Just like that. A break in the sky. The sun poured through with such certainty, such quiet force, that I knew. This was the yes. The kind that reaches your bones.

I turned and felt myself drawn upward to the ridge where the woodland watches. High above, I saw the outline of an ancient woodland, home to an ancient fort, its ruins hidden among the trees. I felt their eyes. The ancient ones. The guardians. We see you, they seemed to say. We are watching. We are with you.

And then, the power of three. Across the lake, three ducks glided in perfect formation. Newly hatched frogs made themselves known in the reeds at my feet. Damsel and Dragonflies danced, butterflies flickered and the birds called out their song.

All of it: a welcome.

I could have stayed all night, wrapped in that sacred conversation. But there is a ceremony to plan, a weaving to begin. Now that I have been received, the work continues with heart, humility and honour.

Because in this tradition—preparation is not separate from the ceremony. It is the beginning of it.