"I turned back to the sun. It was going. The sun was going, and the world was wrong."
~ Annie Dillard
A couple of days ago, I found myself at The Edge of Totality, the sun eclipsing to approximately 99.85% where I live here in Oregon. We have heard a great deal about the experience of Totality, including
Pulitzer Prize winner Annie Dillard's account regarding the last major eclipse of 1979, which she viewed in the Pacific Northwest. I wasn't in Oregon then. I was in Denver, Colorado, and though what I saw there as a teen was very much "partial", it prepared me for my experience of 2017.
"Almost Totality" turned out not to be "less", how it came to me - it was More than expected. I wrote the following live during the experience and soon after, feeling it may be of interest to someone "across time", as Annie's account was to me. If you ever find yourself "trapped" on The Edge of Totality (or even in total Totality), this is what it was like for me...
Monday, August 21, 2017
6:40 AM
Upon the hour of decision, I have
decided to be quietly at home. For multiple reasons. It feels right. I have reached
a turning point in my life, a threshold. This event drives it home.
7:04 AM
It recognizes and validates
something I've known, already.
And I feel Peace.
The moment I made my decision, the
sun popped brightly over the horizon. It will be a clear day.
7:10 AM
Outside in the yard with my dog
after midnight, I observed the darkness. Then I read a brilliant account of an
eclipse by Annie Dillard. One would think Anais [Nin] had written it. If you
have never seen her account, I highly recommend reading it. As with the best of
accountings, it is more than what it seems to be. At first, when I read it, I
wanted to be on the road, seeking adventure, seeking an experience I have never
had. When darkness arrives, it is visceral, they say, or so she said it. There
is no place "out" today that I need to be. I would rather be In.
7:23 AM
In the darkness, I observed, just as
I had at sunset at the other house earlier, our world is already Magical, every
day. Do we notice? Yes, I imagined how those on the road a mere handful of
miles away, and I wasn't quite at peace with it yet, would see something most
will never get the chance to see. Annie drove the point home. It's not "normal".
The landscape changes. I can see that from here. The part I need to see. Yes,
thank goodness, this feels right. I don't know if there's a frenzy out there.
Probably, to a point. A nature park is on the highway to Totality. I imagined
people flooding the parking lot (and they very well might, if 99.85% is as far
as they can get. But that's not it, either. There is an energy of indecision.
And there is an energy of Peace.
7:25 AM
I know what darkness looks like.
That's the only part I'm missing.
7:34 AM
Well, not exactly - there's plenty
more to Totality. But the energy around it is all wrong. I don't need to be a
part of that. I'm happy my son gets to see it. These kinds of things are
particularly meaningful for those young enough to carry it with them for a
lifetime. Many things are like that. I don't need those things anymore, not for
that reason. Because a lifetime is more than just a lifetime. Because just
because a particular life can feel finite doesn't mean we need to feel the need
to cram everything in. That isn't Peace. That is something else, entirely. Do
we believe life is Infinite? Do we know?
8:42 AM
I turned on the radio while getting
ready for the day. I felt a moment of indecision. It IS a bit mesmerizing, to
be so close to totality. That would make a good essay or book title: On the
Edge of Totality. A commercial came on..."Click your heels 3
times..." "There is no place like home." It begins shortly. I
am not choosing only to meditate or be media free. I will do what I do. It is
8:42.
A post flashed across my [Facebook] feed -
someone selling eclipse glasses in my town for $50 apiece. Another last night for $1. They are all dubiously made, in my opinion.
Dutch Bros Coffee gave out countless pairs, only to say now they are unsafe. [My son] took out one pair of mine to examine and had left it for me. I have
another in the package I think I will give to him as a kind of a time capsule.
There was a third pair, somewhere. I sit here quietly. The sun is shining
brightly. I actually haven't even opened the eastern facing blinds. It seems
unusually bright this morning. I glanced at the sun very briefly, earlier,
rising over the mountain. The eclipse hasn't even started yet - it feels
different, somehow. Maybe I'm the one who is different. I must be changing.
Still, the road is alluring since the one they are saying is busy is to the
east - but they often ignore this side of town, so I really couldn't say. It
really was tempting - and still is, to [a] degree. I really don't feel inclined
to be at the nature park either. It's as if something more primitive in me wants to
be near shelter. Annie felt that, too. It isn't exactly fear. Yet in a way, it
is. Do I really want to watch total darkness descend while standing in a
parking lot? Or who knows? "There is no place like home." Spirit
weighed in on the decision I already felt. I don't sense I will impulsively
jump in the car. But who can say? I almost did.
9:11 AM
Wow. There really IS this feeling of
wanting to jump in the car. It's not what I really want though, I sense. I grow
a bit confused. I'm cooking Cream of Wheat (because I felt like an old favorite
from my childhood today and picked it up yesterday). I took my time coming
awake. I turned on NASA coverage. Local coverage showed people stopped on one
of the interstates, not sure where. Peace. My goodness. Peace. (I'm reminded as
milk is probably scalding on the stove while I write.)
9:20 AM
It cooked perfectly. In India, they
say, you shouldn't cook during an eclipse. I just heard the road I was thinking
of taking is jamming up west of here. Judgment glasses off. I am going to
record my authentic experience. I have already used my pinhole viewer once -
yes, it is starting. Deja vu.
9:34 AM
I went out again to look, realizing
after looking at bright paper too long reflecting the sun is also too bright.
Not like looking at the sun itself but not good for my eyes. Yes, I do
appreciate coming inside. This NASA feed isn't particularly well done. A bit
chaotic.
And I just realized it would be too
late to get to Totality. And I'm not really all that disappointed. Good. The
dog is unsettled - and this surprises me.
Now that my path is set, having
eaten my breakfast, I become curious again. What will I see here? I wonder.
9:42 AM
That's better! The girl [I once was] on the
mountain reminded me. I recall an event looking into a box - you don't look at
white paper - my eyes are still adjusting from thàt!!! (I'm ok, it wasn't a
point source, like driving into the dawn.). Is it getting dimmer? You tend to
think so - the sun is about a third occluded. Eclipse glasses are highly
unnecessary. My friends who went to the coast are in fog. I imagine they are
disappointed. This is good for me here. This is going to proceed rather
quickly. The sun isn't eerie yet - I have seen that before. Things get
"strange".
9:47 AM
I hear lots of children playing at
the park, more than usual. I am happy I'm home. For one, you can't keep eclipse
glasses on and I have no need to use mine. I back away from my viewing area so
I'm not even tempted to look at what I wouldn't be able to see. It's dimming a
little, I swear, in my kitchen.
9:57 AM
Dimmer for sure in my kitchen....The eastern blinds
are still down and that makes it more noticeable. I'm upset with myself for
making my pinholes on white paper. Reminder for the future: pinhole viewers are
perfectly sufficient - mine has multiple holes punched with a needle and I am
using cardboard as the surface. Here it comes - I need to head out to the yard
- but you notice the dimming more when you are focused on something else - like
my phone - my peripheral vision is noticing progressive dimming - very slight
as it goes.
10:08 AM
The NASA image on my silenced TV
shows 3/4 occlusion or so.
The children are quieting (some). A
cool breeze drifts through - the birds here are normal. I do suddenly reflect
about how fast darkness must come for those about to experience it nearby. I
have no idea what I will see here.
Oh yes!!! It's dimming, it really
is. But not anything unlike I recall elsewhere.
The sun captures the gleam of a web
drifting between evergreen branches over my head.
I am glad I am home. The Universe
was right. Here on the Edge of Totality, I am curious and peaceful. I wouldn't
want to be by the side of a road.
My pinhole viewer is sharp and clear
- perfect!
10:18 AM (and minute after)
80 percent at least.
Otherworldly!
Wow.
It IS dark!!!
10:23 AM
It wasn't completely dark of course,
but oh my goodness, I saw and I felt it. Right here. The fence is still filled
with the slivers of sun - I found myself looking at the fence. It's still
filled with slivers of course. The children are excited. A car alarm seemed to
announce it. Someone played music. And now it's reversing.
10:27 AM
This isn't like dusk. Everything
shifts. It's like sepia. I swear I hear fireworks but it's the gun range
starting up. It was utterly silent for a long while. I am sitting in the shade
of my patio. Indoors it was like night falling - the dog wasn't particularly
unsettled.
At one point I ran through the house
to look at the mountain - I am happy I looked that way too - I noticed the
matte like effects the most looking out at a landscape.
10:27 AM
The sun still looks "off"
out that way - I am witnessing in reverse what I didn't see that way earlier.
10:31 AM
It splashes differently. It reminds
me of gosh what can I compare it to? Kind of like stadium lighting, I think,
but not quite. It looks artificial. That's right now in the front of my house
where it is "normalizing" again. I saw a flash of the fully eclipsed
sun from Madras on my TV as I came through the house. That was the Universe!
12:05 PM
I just realized how altered the sun
really was. It's the periphery. I just realized it's bright and normal again
outside (and it actually wasn't at normal brightness for longer than I may tend
to notice directly). The nature park would
have been pretty amazing, I sense, but I am satisfied I was here. I did not
need to be in Totality. If I have any
feeling of wondering "what if?" now that it's past, it is with
respect to the nature park - but I preferred being in a more settled place today. It
was exactly as it needed to be. The Universe was right (as usual!).
12:41 PM
I realize something. I have a
special relationship with changes in my observational environment...I tend to notice "surreal". Words didn't capture it.
Neither did pictures. They kept telling us nearing Totality wasn't going to be
much of anything - oh, it was something, indeed. Definitely significantly something.
Wow summed it up very well. I didn't expect that much Wow! Not today.
12:49 PM
So it's true the nature park would have
been a very interesting place - but I was very mindful of the sun and not
really very much interested in wearing unnatural glasses. I think if I had
known just how much "Wow!" Almost Totality was going to be, I might
have reconsidered that - but the flash of the corona live from Madras, at that
pivotal moment, was pretty surreal, and not as much how it "looked",
how it felt in the moment - then to see the mountain landscape - it didn't look
like the Earth - it was indeed very much like [a "spiritual experience"], yet
relatively safe. Did I ever feel "not safe"? Not
"experience-wise". But in some ways, yes - there's a visceral element
to this - perhaps it's ancestral.
2:30 PM
And now, something I hadn't
particularly expected, but it is most welcome - a reflective period AFTER the
eclipse. I'm not going to rush back to "regular" activities just now.
It was, truthfully, a pretty powerful experience, rather unexpected, and
apparently I'm still having it. I just want to sit quietly now and let the
feeling linger. What IS it exactly? There is no "exactly". I'm
surprised by this. I'm a bit emotional. I don't feel I've "missed"
anything in this moment - it was exactly what I needed to see, my most familiar
surroundings, changed. I would have felt "exposed" at the nature park
(even quite literally, physically). It somehow is a suitable farewell. But it
isn't really about "place". I saw something unexpected. It surprised
me. And that feeling is familiar. I'm going to sit with this and let it be.
4:06 PM
A neighbor came over (briefly,
thankfully not long), and he told me the local park was packed with people - I
made the right choice, but I found my way to feeling that, on multiple levels.
Roads coming back are not the same as roads going in, that too, since everyone
is coming back at once. I'm past thinking about these things, really. I feel
ancestral emotion (and my own, too). Can we even begin to >imagine< (and
I'm sure I can read more of the accounts) of how various cultures viewed what
was happening. Interestingly enough, I can't remember what Native American
tribe it was, as I heard it in passing, they said it was the moon making love
with the sun. That tells you something about a culture, whether they view such
a profound event fearfully or lovingly. My yearning for shelter - what was
that, exactly? Safe ground, I suppose. Was I afraid of it? Well, I didn't want
to look at the sun, and these flimsy glasses were not particularly something I
chose to rely upon. Was that all it was? There is something more here. I don't
need or require a cosmic energetic explanation - there are plenty of those
floating around. There IS an energy to a shared event like this, there is
absolutely an energy - and I know that can be far more expansive and deep - but
that's not what this is. Perhaps it's me. Perhaps it has to do with opening me
up more. It's like the opposite effect of what I saw. There is much going on
here, below the surface. I'm letting myself be. I'm letting whatever it is flow
right through me. I can't put it in words. It was how the world changed. And
nobody really expected it. And it was personal, too. I heard an account of it
from someone I know that was the opposite - to this person, it was nothing,
apparently - perhaps some people internalized the low expectations of "not
totality" and could never get beyond them, I don't know - it is not for me
to judge another's experience. It was very much Something, to me. And still is,
hours later. I will never forget it. Annie wrote in her memoir-like story that
her experience of a total eclipse was like death coming near. She saw a wall of
darkness that was racing her way and felt it was terrifying. This isn't like
that. It was astonishing and uplifting and surprising - it was unlike anything.
Perhaps it IS about "the valley", perhaps it is, but not quite in
that way. Annie was also uplifted. But there was nothing frightening about this
experience, here, once it happened. It was invigorating. It brought me
>Alive<...It was "Wow!"...There was something about this that was very pilgrim-like. It grows
more perfect, as it is - and as it was. It happened so fast, the part
I'm talking about - it came upon us in practically an instant - and it changed
me, somehow - perhaps it reminded me. Am I still an explorer? Yet, still, it
was more.
4:43 PM
It came to me just now, in the yard.
Perhaps Annie was right. But then again, not exactly. It wasn't the darkness
(though it was). It's the look in my father's eyes. That is IT. When he opened
his eyes and he died. I will never, ever forget it. He saw >Something<.
And I witnessed him coming Alive, just the beginning of it. We must all be
explorers, to die some day. It is only about surrender on this side of the
veil. We are what we are. He was, too. And IS. That's what it felt like. What
he saw surprised and engaged him, all in an instant. It was intricate and Real.
He had already seen his parents - it was past that, like a continuation. One
could say it was Wonder, but it wasn't that, either. It was More than he
expected, much More....in an instant.
4:46 PM
That's what the beginning of those 2
minutes was like...
I couldn't really say how many
minutes it was - I didn't measure it. But that was the beginning. Dawn met the
darkness, but it didn't feel dark. Dawn met the veil. It's in Us.
4:53 PM
I turned on The Weather Channel,
curious to see some of the imagery. They are repeating the chorus, just now:
"Let the Sun Shine...let the Sun Shine in, the Sun Shine In." Yes. Do
we have any IDEA why we're here and who we are? "Get back to doing what
you Love. Always be you." Yes, we are here to be who we are! And who is
that, really? Who we are. On multiple levels. Who we are creating ourselves to
be. And very much human....
6:14 PM
Magical.
It's not just the images cast by the trees. That blue through the crack in the fence, if a picture could manage to capture it, is more "vivid" than usual. Some days are special.
6:41 PM
It's all settling in now,
integrating, though how it surprised me may take a while! Life is astonishing.
Tuesday, Aug. 22, 2017
9:50 AM
There was a time lapse sequence fromtotality near me in Oregon crossing my Twitter feed last night that not only
helped me to understand what I witnessed here, but Annie Dillard’s account
(which I reread late last night - I intend to read more of her essays, I hadn't
realized she won the Pulitzer Prize), as well as how this looked to those in
history who didn't know what was happening. First, there would likely not be a
lot of historical accounts of totality because the path is so small, but now
I'm curious to look for those accounts. Near totality would also be rare, and
near totality was, without a doubt, different. I wasn't even attempting to look
at the sun with my glasses when the "different" began. The light
left. It happened SO fast. And before it left and also when it returned,
it shifted into the Things Rarely Seen domain. This was unexpected. It was akin
to watching that tornado descend in the 80's, but I didn't think of that in the
moment. Before what happened happened, it was a relatively "normal"
experience, even if different - but then it rapidly became VERY different. It was as if the light had suddenly been
pulled into a vacuum of space. There was still some light left, but it was stunning; how fast and how unexpectedly - because all the
"experts" said we wouldn't witness much where I was. The yard
suddenly dark, I wanted to see the mountain. I turned to my house, as I had
been looking at leaf effects on the fence not long before, but time shifted,
too. Or so it felt.
9:59 AM
I turned to my sliding glass door
and saw the living room was quite dark, amazingly dark, actually. I did manage
to capture a picture. I sent it to my son and my sister soon after so they
would know what was coming their way [preparing for Totality in Wyoming and Missouri]. I wanted to
take a picture of my darkened living room, of all things. As I walked through
it, I looked up at the television screen, which was silent, and it showed
Totality, Live, with "Madras" in the lower left corner. It was like being on the edge of the funnel,
like a nozzle had descended to suck out the light. Walking through that room
reminds me now of the evangelical haunted houses of my teens, where you walk in
what seems like slow motion through a room lot with strobe lights. The dog had
lifted her head where she lay under the television, but was calm. A Campus Life
haunted house, or the fun house at Lakeside Amusement Park, or the Halloween
House at Disney World. Take your pick. It was like that. And it captured that
similar feeling from child and teen hood. You were safe and unsafe, all at
once.
10:07 AM
I thanked the Universe in that
instant, for a glimpse of Live Totality. But I didn't understand what Totality
is like - not until I saw the time lapse from Salem on Twitter and later
re-read Annie's account. I tried to describe the light that was already
returning when I literally threw the front door open and got myself onto that
porch. I am not unhappy I focused on leaf effects towards the end, but had I
known darkness would come in such a way, like a vacuum cleaner not quite strong
enough to take every last crumb of the light, but PLENTY powerful, I would have
been looking at the view. I had read what Annie said, but I hadn't actually
read it - or I thought much of it wouldn't apply. I was on the edge of the
Shadow. It arrives not just quickly. It arrives immediately. An ancient
observing this would have likely thrown him or herself to the ground in sheer
terror. They would know something was strange by that time. I could say it was
like flipping a light switch - but it was more like a dimmer switch on rapid
descent - but the ancients would know nothing of switches.
10:21 AM
I wasn't distracted by the sun. I
didn't have my glasses on. They were still in my kitchen, on my counter, in my
unused trusty little pack. I later did ponder just how spectacular the sights
would have been in the nature park, with some regret before bed, but I even
now let that go. In a way, it was better in a smaller space, looking at a fence
and a narrow band of sky. And my little yard under the trees. It was as if the
nozzle passed expeditiously through on its way through the landscape. It does
remind me of a tornado, how one might feel if caught up in the periphery. But
there was no wind. I had noticed the cool breeze when the
"Otherworldly" began, but I could feel nothing on my skin when it got
dark. I did manage to type here. I
managed to do more than I expected. Time stretched out. I will never forget the
image of the corona on my television screen, and I knew the scene was
containing me and my little dog and my house and my neighborhood and all the
familiar things that I knew. The room was electrified by the flares. My living
room contained the eclipsed sun, Live and in color, completely - and I was Live
in the midst of it, contained. There really wasn't much color. There was white
and there was black, and it traveled out into the room, seeping into my
furniture, or perhaps pouring or flowing or filling. It was in a real space. No
alternative could have possibly been better for me in that moment. Or to write
about it now.
10:28 AM
I looked at the dog, who had lifted
her head, slightly curious, having heard me open the door - I didn't even turn
on the light - the red light of the switch on the surge protector on my end
table, by where I lay on my couch now, still awakening, was also something I
noticed when I first walked in. That red was the only color I saw in that room.
My pace quickened. I threw open the living room door. Often the lock sticks but
I commanded it to open. Loudly it did - with ferocity - you could have heard
the decisiveness of the lock releasing and my door swinging open, the screen
door slamming shut behind me, a block away. I was like the child my brother [the
meteorogist] advised me to be. How long would you photograph a tornado? He used
to say. How long would you watch it? How close? I was that child. I didn't care
if anyone heard the door. I was the child in Close Encounters, that too.
10:43 AM
The light was already returning. The
outline of the mountain was slightly pink. The light was already returning. It
poured in like an elixir, like a foreign substance. The time lapse caught it!
It was THAT! I was caught on the edge of Totality, and I knew it. I didn't know
it completely until I saw what they saw, down in Salem. The picture on my
screen (I learned later) was probably from Salem - the caption said Madras, but
upon replay later the announcer was speaking of showing Salem. That makes total
sense. But it could have been either. As I stood on my porch, I could literally
FEEL the energy of Totality to the south. I could feel it coming from the
south.
I heard music the other direction.
It reminded me of the Jesus movement in the 70's, music my [other] sister used to play,
or they played in church Sunday night. Someone like my sister, I thought in
that moment, an End Times Christian awaiting Jesus arriving, was playing that
music so loud to my north down the street, it filled the block as much as my
lock and my doors swinging open (and the screen door swinging shut). Like
children or teens, there was no one to tell us not to slam the door shut and
make a commotion or play music out the window. I would like to tell you I was
"reverent". It wasn't like thàt. I was me in that moment, and I was
living it fully. It was exhilaration!...The light was returning. There was no
time to go up the stairs and look out from up there. Before I had been in slow
motion. I had even taken a picture. But I wanted to look at the mountain before
it was over. So I acted quickly and decisively and swung open the door and
really did race onto my porch before it went away. Did I glance up the stairs?
I at least thought about glancing. The light was returning....
10:44 AM
Things slowed down again on the
porch. Everything was reversing. Jesus hadn't come back but the music still
played.
10:54 AM
The time lapse captured it
beautifully. I don't know how they did it...The light coming back was
effervescent. It had viscosity mixed in. I don't have a word for it. It was
pouring onto my street, as if from a vase. It didn't look regular. It was
whiter. It reminded me of the textures of stadium lighting - and I wrote about
that at the time. It was the same "Otherworldly" as before, on the
other side of the house. It poured in through the branches of trees on my
street. It wasn't smoky but it had substance, even while feeling like the thin
air on Trail Ridge Road, above timberline - another experience I'd compare this
to, from my childhood. It was thinner yet more full. It was whiter somehow. It
didn't exactly swirl but you thought that it did. It was like pouring a potion
of white into the street, as if mixing a drink. But it didn't exactly pour. It
arrived. It filled in. It rose up. It was different. And it happened both fast
and quite slow. The first part was as fast as the last part before. And then it
lingered.
10:57 AM
The world took its time coming back
to us, or so it seemed, my neighborhood returning, as if we'd all been away. It
was like losing time. I was happy I felt this alone. I know others enjoyed
being with people. I never saw a soul. Not a car or a walker - I just heard the
music. No one else was in sight. Later I
saw the time lapse from Salem and re-read Annie's account. I realize even now I
would not have had the same experience had I been looking at the tiny ring in
the sky, to the south. And let's get that straight - Annie said it too - that
ring those people saw is SO small - it isn't like most of the pictures or
television. The sun is pulled like a thread through the eye of a needle.
Perhaps the flares around it are large - so they say. It's like the sun is
sucked into an aperture. I saw the effects. I saw Totality in a way with more
totality by not seeing it (though I DID see it, quite "randomly", at
the perfect moment, on TV.)
