Though we were in an area in which the sun was 93% occluded, initially we were underwhelmed by the solar eclipse last Monday. I'd expected 7% of the sun's light would feel like dusk, but it wasn't dark at all. In terms of dark and light, it simply felt like an overcast day or like we were further north--in Canada or upper New England--where the light has a different quality, short on the warm colors of the spectrum, heavy on the cool ones.
And while we gazed at the sun through our sunglasses and solar glasses, and saw the moon obscuring all but a small sliver--a tiny crescent--of the sun's shape, I felt like I should have been more impressed than I was.
Had we miscalculated? Were we missing the real magic of a once in a lifetime event? Because we'd dread driving through the middle of nowhere, on the interstate, far from our state Children's Hospital, in case of a medical emergency, we'd elected not to drive 3 1/2 hours to get to 100% occlusion. Perhaps that was a mistake?
But then, as I walked back up onto our porch, I happened to look down at the interplay of light and shadow through the leaves of our oak tree. And suddenly, as my brain kicked into gear and I started to realize what I was seeing, I got very excited. In fact, I was blown away. Here was the magic of the eclipse! All the patches of sunlight through the leaves of the trees--and there were hundreds--were crescent shaped! Thin little crescents. I'd never seen anything like this! It was amazing!! And magical! A once in a lifetime phenomenon!
I began calling excitedly for our kids to come, look. Our daughter Awesome, our adult son Jacob (home for the summer from his PhD stuides, and recovering from recent shoulder surgery), and our adult daughter Rani (off from work for the day) were just as amazed. We spent the next ten minutes marveling at what we were seeing. I took photos of each of them--Jacob, Rani, and Awesome, sitting on the front porch, covered in crescent shadows. And one of them took a photo of me sitting in eclipse sunlight crescents. These will be our keepsakes from the solar eclipse.
Later that evening, our son Eli who works as an engineer in a city two hours away, told me that he and two of his coworkers had decided to take time off from work that day and drive the hour and a half to get from the 97% occlusion area where they were, to a place with 100% occlusion. He described something totally magical. One minute the light was there like an overcast day, and then suddenly the lightning bugs--fireflies--began lighting up and flying up out of the grass as if it were dusk. And then things went dark suddenly. And in the middle of the day, it was night. They could see the stars overhead in the sky. The lightning bugs all around. They felt the temperature drop. It felt like night. And they could look at the moon with the sun behind it. And then six minutes later, just as quickly as it had become dark, it became light. The stars disappeared. The lightning bugs settled back into the grass. And the short night in the middle of the day was over. They were so busy being wowed by the sudden change from light to dark and back to light again that they didn't take the time to document their experience. They didn't take a single photo or video. And they were so busy being wowed by the overwhelming event, that they also didn't notice the small things--they didn't notice the eclipse sunlight crescents among the shadows created by the trees around them. They saw the big things, but didn't notice the small things.
In some ways, I wish we'd taken the chance--I wish that we had gambled--and had taken the 7-8 hour round trip to see the 100% occlusion. It would have been totally and completely amazing. Impressively unique among life's experiences. A once in a lifetime event. And I'm glad that Eli and his coworkers took the time--they'd have to work late to make up for the 4 hrs they took off--to see the eclipse at 100% occlusion. But in another way, I'm glad that we stayed home and didn't miss the magic of the eclipse sunlight crescents.
Life is like that. We may miss--or even be denied--the glories of a life lived one way, while we experience--and are treated to--the glories of life lived another way. There is enough magic in life to amaze wherever it is that we find ourselves. Whether we find ourselves living a "normal" life, or living a life graced with the struggle of living with a chronic condition like epilepsy. Or any one of the many challenges life sends our way. If we are willing to look around for the magic, it is surely there, hiding in the shadows, right under our feet, waiting to be discovered like so many crescents of magical sunlight in the shadows of the things that seem to be obscuring the light.
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