(2017 Photo by Scott Szarapka on Unsplash)
One Monday, April 8th, there was a solar eclipse over a wide swath of North America. At my home in central New York, we were close to the path of totality with 97% of the sun obscured.
We dutifully bought eclipse glasses but the afternoon was very cloudy. During the time of maximum coverage of the sun, we did notice that it became darker, darker than you expect from cloud cover, even from a thunderstorm. A few minutes after it lightened again, it began to rain.
Meanwhile, many people were expressing their awe and wonder at viewing the eclipse. Some had travelled many miles, even internationally, to see it. All were subject to the vagaries of weather, but most were lucky to have good conditions for viewing. Even people who weren’t able to see the eclipse expressed gratitude at being part of an excited crowd putting aside divisions to look up together.
As I’ve been reflecting on the eclipse experience, I find myself wondering if I would have felt the same mystical sense of awe that others have been describing. Perhaps it is my practical New England upbringing or my study of science or my overall sense of respect for creation but I have trouble separating the eclipse from other natural phenomena. Should I feel more wonder at an eclipse than I do for a broken, blue shell that recently sheltered a baby robin or a riot of forsythia blossoms or the ancient rocks worn smooth by the brook or the full moon?
While I do appreciate the effect that the eclipse had to bring people together, I had no desire to be part of a crowd. Granted, I am the type of introvert who is always uncomfortable in a crowd, however noble or friendly its purpose.
Did you experience this eclipse or one in a different time and place? Please share your thoughts in the comments section.
Joanne Corey 