They Say
I must listen to what they say, because I cannot see it myself. At least not unfiltered; a distortion of the event, a hazy retelling, is how I bear witness. Jumping into and out of meetings a continent’s breadth away as the occurrence unfolds.
They say this happens all the time. Every eighteen months, or thereabouts. But unless you have the means and the dedication, the chances of experiencing it firsthand are minimal. A gliding shadow, uninterested in our gaze, darts swiftly, sweeping across the rock we call home over peaks and troughs unreachable, or skies opaque.
They say you should watch this one. Take in the Baily Beads, signifiers of a landscape not unlike ours, its jagged irregularities enough to produce a perfect optical symphony. Or watch for the Diamond Rings, flashes of brilliance that will sandwich a long-awaited marvel.
They say that this one is special. It will deliver one of the longest interplanetary hide-and-seek games for centuries. The result of our lunar companion being further away and therefore obscuring a greater area of our solar parent. Usually we get a couple of minutes – this time it will be nearly four.
They say the stellar flares are spiking. This increased activity will be a boon for researchers on the ground, in the sky, and above the atmosphere. An opportunity unlike any other to better understand the mysteries of an unapproachable cosmic shore.
They say the anticipation is palpable. A gold circle slowly loses its luster as a species swarms to a dimming flame. The excitement increases as the shape morphs into waning crescents, hinting at the rhyming clockwork of celestial companions.
They say strange things will happen. And indeed, they do. People cheer as the darkness arrives. The birds behave erratically, some ceasing their chirps while others begin screeching. The air chills at high noon. An uninvited but appreciated calm settles unevenly amidst the gaggle. Thousands of smiles and funky-colored glasses follow the dance in the firmament.
They say to take a pause.
The solar eclipse during July 2009 as seen from Varanasi, India.
Yesterday’s eclipse, as seen from Mexico, USA, and Canada.
They say it is an ‘astrological’ phenomenon. At least the BBC reporter does, in a likely a case of parapraxis. A Canadian crowd tries to catch a glimpse of the invisible sun through cloud cover above torrential falls. They are rewarded for their persistence, as the veil soon parts in a dramatic scene wrenched from a heavenly folio. Astrology is about as useful as a blindfold in the dark. The foreknowledge of this event, a result of Astronomy, a science that allows us to plot eclipses down to the second, thousands of years before their arrival.
They say it is a transformative experience. To witness a star eaten and engulfed in a universal play as indifferent in its production – and unbelievable in its coincidence – as it is impactful in its splendor. A rare spectacle that gives context and meaning to the smallness of the infinite relations of the groups that observes it with awe. A disparate community that itself has transformed over eons from subjects of those spheres to garnering ambitions of harnessing their power.
They say there will be more to see as the days and weeks pass. Pictures and videos processed by amateurs and professionals alike, taken at unique vantage points or locations inaccessible to most. Images of a star’s atmosphere, filled with ionic infernos, an ancestral aura bequeathing progeny of lights that encompass our planet’s poles. Generations measured in seconds rather than years.
They say the digital lens does not do any of the visions justice. I believe them. Yet I will welcome the technological imprints and virtual constructions; my only avenue to not only the eclipse but much of life’s breathtaking detail.
They say it is a moment to be cherished and reflected on. I am thankful that despite my distance from the fast-moving shadow and gatherings of enthusiasts who rushed to huddle under it, I can nonetheless share a small part in that collective reverence.