I Was Wrong

And I'll try to keep it short

I have nothing particularly interesting or novel to say about the eclipse. I have things to say, to be clear — and I’m going to do just that, you lucky dog — but they’re not profound, particularly poetic, or worthy of a great mind’s attention. It was not an experience that I alone had and can share with you; no, much of the country witnessed exactly what I did, and many were treated to a grander or longer sight than I. I simply cannot offer something in this blog post that you cannot get elsewhere.

But that’s not going to stop this guy.

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What a grand silly fool I was.

I had never seen a total solar eclipse before, and I wasn’t particularly excited for this one. Meh, I thought. Seems a bit overrated. I purchased glasses¹ quite late, half-expecting them to be sold out everywhere and unavailable; only half-caring about that potential outcome. But the glasses arrived; they passed my rigorous tests²; and I decided, fine, I’ll make the time to go.

A friend invited us out to her parents’ place in rural ████████ — about a 40 minute drive — to see the eclipse. I waffled a bit, but ultimately decided to go. At the very least, Erin and I will get to spend some time with a good friend and meet her new man, I thought. Eclipse might be kind of cool too. For a whole minute. Woo.

We arrive, miraculously find a spot to park our car (Abby’s family knows how to get everyone together), and spend a while huddling in a corner, talking solely to Abby and her ludicrously tall man's man, not speaking to or being spoken to by anyone else³, for we were strange strangers in a strange land.

Someone says “oh look, the eclipse has started”. I put on my glasses and stare directly at the fucking sun.

Bad photo of a boring thing

Meh.

While the photo doesn’t quite do it justice, the real thing wasn’t that much more impressive. Ah, look, I think; it looks literally exactly as I predicted it would. There’s the moon in front of the sun! Ah, yes, Reginald. Quite. Hm.

Look, it just wasn’t that interesting. It’s the sun… but with a little bite taken out of it. What’s doing that?! Oh, the moon. Hm.

A few things were intriguing and enjoyable, though.

I had not anticipated how eerie and flat the light around us would get. As the moon continued to chomp away at the sun, inch by inch, we slowly found ourselves enveloped by a strange, alien land — not truly any different from where we were before, but colder, and fundamentally foreign. That was neat.

I am utterly impressed by the sun’s sheer power. Even when the moon had covered, say, 99% of it — just before the totality — the little light that got through was still more than enough to completely blind you if you look at it without protection. I should know: I caught many glimpses. I am a very smart man. Even when so little of its energy is allowed to hit my eyes, they simply could not bear it. The raw power of the sun is something I am forced to respect.

I also found myself pleasantly surprised by the feeling of camaraderie as the moon made its slow journey. Though I knew only one person at this gathering of at least 20, we were all here for a single, shared experience — literally larger than ourselves. In some small and strange way, we were connecting with all other humans past, present, and future. We were sharing in a marvel that has confounded, terrified, inspired, and filled with wonder those who have ever and will ever see such a thing.

Unlike so much in our lives today, filled with endless consumption and immediate pleasure triggered solely by reaching into our pockets and pulling out a metal rectangle — to order food; to browse social media; to consume — this is something else. This is something man cannot command or recreate; a ride whose timetable and location we are forced to accommodate, as it cares little for our desires and whims. Cloudy day? Sucks for you; I’m the fucking moon.

But, ultimately, the eclipse was boring and predictable. Yup, there’s the moon, slowly gaining over the sun. Soon, it’ll cover it entirely, and it’ll just be a black void for a small time. Probably terrifying, if you didn’t know what was going on. Certainly a bad omen; a portent of troubling times. But I am an advanced man; a man of science; and this is a mere peculiarity to me. Mm, yes.

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Wow. That’s all I can really say. Wow.

I did not expect this.

Wearing my special glasses, I’m watching the sun shrink away to nothing; just a small, still-blinding sliver of light, being happily munched by a Hungry Hungry Moon. Now it’s gone entirely. I take off my glasses.

Where once there was an orb of light and pain in the sky, there is now something so fundamentally awesome, in the truest sense of the word, that I have trouble describing it.

This was not just a continuation of the current state of fairs. This was not a linear progression from 99% totality to 100%. No “ah yes, now it’s fully covered, and everything is progressing as expected” There is only pre-totality (boring) and totality (truly awe-inspiring). They are utterly distinct in every way.

A great black void hangs in the sky, cloaked by a ring of shimmering white fire. At its bottom, a barely-perceptible, infinitesimal red dot — a sun spot or coronal ejection or something of that sort, more massive than our own Earth — dances; seizing this rare opportunity to take the stage and be witnessed, free from the overpowering diva nature of our Sun for the briefest of moments. I can do naught but watch.

I took a terrible picture, which I will share with you now. I regret the time I took taking this. Time that would’ve been better used staring directly at the sun without protection of any kind.

This gives you maybe 1% of the experience of witnessing the totality.

Abby’s father played Total Eclipse of the Heart as the totality hit, which was funny and cute. When I look back, though, the song that my memory plays is more like this:

I don’t really want to be the guy that compares a beautiful natural phenomena — one which should be sincerely witnessed and described, without being dirtied by comparison to media of any kind — to a fucking video game, but I will say that The Outer Wilds managed to evoke a similar (yet artificial and cheap in comparison) feeling of awe in its final act, and that’s why it’s the only video game ever made that can truly be described as art.

The totality lasts as long as it wants — suspended, unchanging, for at least a minute — until suddenly it’s over. The sun retakes the stage, a fraction of a fraction of its power more than enough to force me to avert my eyes. Slowly, the alien world around me becomes familiar again, and I am left with only memory and some terrible photos.

We drive home, vastly underestimating the amount of people who also were driving into rural ████████ to view the eclipse, and are now all trying to get out. Annoying. I miss two work meetings, and try to make it up by working long into the night.

Well worth it.

1. I did put a fair amount of effort (relative to how little I cared) into making sure I purchased ISO 12312-2 compliant glasses. Word to the wise! Don’t get blinded.

2. I immediately took them outside and used them to stare straight into the full sun.

3. We eventually had a good conversation about Gilmore Girls with her sister-in-law, and her father forced me to drink a small glass of Bourbon with him.