Something few people noticed about the eclipse, and story of my own.

On Monday, August 21, at around 10:15 AM, we had a solar eclipse. In my area, that meant that 99% of sun was going to be blocked by the moon at a time of day when it should be fully bright outside. What most of us did not realize is that 1% sunlight is still a lot of sunlight. It's like standing in a room with one lamp on or standing in a room with no lamps on. Totally different.

Two different songs came to mind:

What can I say? I'm a sucker for a rocking disco beat, but I'm a slave to a funky doo-wop. These would be the melodies running through my mind for the rest of the day.

As I put on my solar glasses, I could clearly make out an orange circle about the size of a small pea as if I were holding it up between my fingers at arms length. It was then that I remembered an important lesson in life, learned long, long ago.

When I was much younger, in grade-school, there was also a major solar eclipse that happened, and I suddenly remembered it like it was yesterday. Back then, we did not have protective eye-ware for everyone, so teachers were passing them around to children in the school yard. There were only a few short minutes in which we could view the eclipse during our special recess.

This image can be found on pixabay.com

Despite the multiple stern warnings not to look at the sun, I remember stealing glances up at it whenever I could. After only a quick glance, I developed one of those dully colorful eye spots blocking the center of my vision. Blinking did no good. Anything at the center of my vision was completely concealed by the splotchy mess on my eyes. I did not tell anyone I might be going blind. I was too proud, sensitive, and embarrassed to admit my foolish mistake, and I hated being blamed for anything. Someone gave me the eye-ware to try on as I was sorting through my sorry state. I looked up. All I could see was black. Nothing. I passed the glasses onto the next person, fully unimpressed by this event that everyone else seemed in awe over. Witnessing any of the rest of the eclipse was pointless from that point onward. Later in the day, long after the eclipse had ended, my sight eventually returned to normal. A headache lingered on for nearly the rest of the day.

Back to the more recent eclipse in 2017...

My best local spot for viewing the eclipse was at a school park within walking distance of my home. Other neighbors were there and decked out in 60's style cardboard rimmed glasses as if they were watching a state-of-the-art 3D movie. Heck, I looked even sillier with my sunglasses on and holding a cheap cellphone camera up to the sky with the cardboard glasses in front of the lens so I could snap photos of the sun every so often. These photos of the sun would be worthless, as it looked like an orange pellet on a black field.

When I wanted to view the sun I would put the cardboard glasses in front of the sunglasses I was wearing for double the protection. This way I could more clearly see the sun shape, even some sun flare spots on it, and the moon shape starting to fill over it. There was a brief moment when I kept my gaze lifted up at the sun and slid the eyeglasses off for a quick comparison of what the sun looks like with and without glasses on.

I might as well have been looking straight into a surgeon's laser, as it bored piercingly into the cornea of my two eyes. I would not make that mistake again. Any time I wanted to remove my glasses I would need to avert my gaze elsewhere first. Thankfully, the blindness did not set in this time. A fraction of a second longer, and I would have been blinded again. Through the special glasses, I was this time able to see the crescent shape of the sun. The moon looked more like an invisible entity without form, because you could not see any of it's features. Not even the curve of the moon off of the sun was visible. It was just a sun with a circular piece missing. Eventually the dark cavity which was the moon made its way to the far side of the sun, which meant it was now receding from the sun, and it would become brighter again.

One thing I also noticed, there was a slight dimness to my surroundings. It reminded me of the amount of light you would see at dusk. The sort of orange overtones one might expect to see if a forest fire sent an ash cloud over your city from miles away. The air became noticeably chilly 10 minutes after the eclipse was starting to open up again. The birds and bees never ceased their busy work as the humans stood in awe of the mighty power of the moon obscuring the blinding sun. The children nearby continued to play on the playground as if nothing impressive really happened.

As I walked away from the park where I watched the eclipse, my eyes curiously remained down on the ground. Even in my long-sleeved shirt, I was starting to get goosebumps, and I did not want to lift my gaze too high because the sun rays were still absolutely piercing to the eye.

However, despite the story I have shared, that is not what this post is really about...

In front of my home there is a grand maple tree that grows.

Normally, when the sun shines down on it, it casts a cool shadow in a perfect silhouette that dances across the pavement as the wind moves through its leaves. Individual leaves and branches can even be identified by the shadows matching their corresponding shapes.

Not on this day.

Instead of leaf shapes, there were bright crescent moons cutting through the shadows of every leaf. A kaleidoscope of uniform shapes were hanging in perfect orientation to each other even as they moved randomly with the wind. It was a marvel to behold.

As I returned home, I went on with my day. This time I did not return home blind, but with new insight and appreciation for the majestic world we live in. In the circle of life, I am blessed that there are many second chances.