It was the second time for both of us. We came to this marriage with three children a piece, and important lessons from the first time around. We thought this would be our journey into old age and beyond.

We were wrong.

It became clear at around the ten year mark. We were over-watered with unsaid words, and there was no drainage under our feet. Root rot had set in. Once it took hold, there was no treatment for it. This is true even in the plant world.

Our couples therapist knew us both well, from long ago. She turned to him, during our first session at the end, and said, "Are you done with this marriage?"

Long pause. "Yes." And we were done.

All that remained were the legalities, the details, telling our respective children, sorting out who belonged to what. And every decision had a way of illuminating what had been wrong all along. This process was a little like checking the tiny, upside down print at the back of the magazine, when you can't complete the crossword puzzle. You have all the answers now, but it doesn't matter, because you didn't find them on your own.

One thing set us apart. We decided to do this consciously, in a way that was filled with grace. It wasn't easy, but we did it. We called it our Release Ceremony. The act of creating this ceremony, difficult as it was, made space for our grief, paved the way ahead with dignity, and invited our friends to witness it and stay friends with both of us.

We treated it with all the respect that any other life changing ceremony receives. We have funerals for people who die. Even for animals who die. Where is the funeral for a marriage that has died? That's in the realm of what we wanted to create.

We decided how we wanted it to look, who we wanted to speak or perform there, designed and sent invitations, and then wrote our joint and individual statements that would be read there. It was to be held at the stunning Thomas Berry Hall on Whidbey Island, where we lived.

In the weeks before this event, we worried about some of our friends whose marriages were shaky. We hoped it wouldn't somehow give rise to the final rupture for any of them. We learned later that it did the opposite — gave them a sense of renewal and recommitment.

For those of you curious about how it unfolded, here is the structure. It's our wish (both his and mine) that many will follow our example, as many as possible:

RELEASE CEREMONY

(Note: I am leaving names out of this, describing it in such a way that it can serve as a template for others. It is our gift to whoever wants to use it.)

We had a man and woman of honor, my best friend and his best friend, to stand at our sides. We had also chosen male and female elders to participate in the ritual. At our wedding ten years before, we'd lit a central candle from our individual candles. We put that same candle on the altar, already lit as people filed in to take their seats.

Opening remarks were made by a respected female elder in the community.

Then husband and wife alternated as they read the magnificent Rumi poem "The Pickaxe."

A respected male elder spoke about the community's crucial place in this event.

A singer songwriter in our community sang his song, "We're All in the Boat," about how whatever happens to anyone in the community, it lives in everyone.

Husband and Wife recite Release Vows to each other.

Wife: "[Husband], I have loved you and felt your love, I have laughed with you, And I have learned from you. Our union has been deep and full of blessing."

Husband: "[Wife], I have loved you and felt your love, I have laughed with you, And I have learned from you. Our union has been deep and full of blessing. Forgive me for the ways in which I used you to avoid facing myself, For the times I did not tell you my truth, and for the times I did not meet you where you most needed to be met."

Wife: "Forgive me for the ways in which I used you to avoid facing myself, for the times I did not tell you my truth, and for the times I did not meet you where you most needed to be met."

(Husband offers his hand to Wife. Together they remove his ring, and she puts it in his palm. She continues…) "Let this ring no longer bind you, But remind you of everything beautiful and real That passed between us in our marriage. With my whole heart, I release you to the ongoing blessing of your life. You are no longer my husband. I am no longer your wife."

Husband:

(Wife offers her hand to Husband. Together they remove her ring, and he puts it in her palm.) "Let this ring no longer bind you, But remind you of everything beautiful and real That passed between us in our marriage. With my whole heart, I release you to the ongoing blessing of your life You are no longer my wife. I am no longer your husband."

Husband and Wife together: "I bless your continuing. May you flourish in spirit, mind, heart and body. May you, and may all beings, be well and happy."

Female elder tings the cymbals, to mark the moment.

Husband and Wife each light their own candles off of the central candle, then give them to their Man and Woman of Honor to hold while they recite the Circle Poem, (which we'd written together long before):

Husband: "Today again the Earth completes a circle whose ends do not touch."

Wife: "But I touch the ends to my beginnings and begin another circle."

Husband: "In the turnings of my spiral life I am a wheel in a wheel in a wheel."

Wife: "Through darkness and through light I spin and weave an endless song of praise."

Husband: "Alive on the breath of my breath, the breath of my moons, the breath of my seasons,"

Wife: "In the center of the lung of God I breathe, And I am exhaled into my birth, and inhaled into my death Today again the Earth completes a circle whose ends do not touch."

Husband: "But I touch the ends to my beginnings and begin another circle."

In their last act as a unit, Husband and Wife blow out the central candle.

Music starts. (For those of you who are curious, we chose Pat Metheny's "The Bat, Part II" for our exit.)

Man of Honor escorts Husband out on the left side of the gathering and downstairs, where a small group of close friends will join them. Woman of Honor escorts Wife out on the right side and downstairs into a separate room, also with small group of close friends.

Guests remain in meditation until the music ends.

Female and male elders come together to ground the gathering, bring them back 'home,' and invite them to partake of the refreshments in the lobby. The elders then go respectively to the women's circle and men's circle formed in the rooms downstairs, to bring them each to closure.

In this way, we ritualized our divorce, made it holy, and laid our marriage to rest. We brought it into the community consciously, so that no one would be afraid to speak of it. They gathered to witness our joining in matrimony ten years before. They gathered now to witness our un-joining. There were surely people who leaned more toward one or the other of us in sympathy; but we wanted to create an environment where the predominant feeling was one of shared grief, shared letting go and shared moving forward.

It was cathartic. It was beautiful. And it worked.

May all beings who are paired in love be willing to come apart with respect, dignity and grace, if the time ever comes to do so. May all beings be happy and free. May all beings benefit.

I'm a patron of Ninja Writers and this is part of the Medium Post-a-Day Challenge of blogging for 100 consecutive days. (This is Day 19.) If you enjoyed this piece of writing, click on the clapping hands at left and give it some love, or comment, share or follow me. And thank you so much for reading.