On solar eclipses and life lessons
After an important meeting at work today, I rushed to pick up my son Rohan from school. It was one of those perfect April afternoons in Washington, but of course today wasn’t just any day.
Today was April 8, 2024 – the day that a total solar eclipse stretched across a vast swath of North America. While DC wasn’t on the “path of totality”, we anticipated about 89% lunar coverage at maximum eclipse, which was projected for 3:20pm, Eastern standard time.
I arrived at Rohan’s school just a little bit before that, to discover a buzzing throng of kids, parents and teachers all out on the soccer pitch. The school kindly provided special eclipse-viewing glasses for all, and we stretched out on the grass to witness the show that the cosmos had in store. A few meters away, Mr. Kaba’s ice cream truck was stationed and waiting patiently (clearly, Mr. Kaba is a very smart businessman).
The kids were shrieking with excitement as we spectated, and who could blame them?! Watching the moon shroud more and more of the sun and then eventually retreat again through the special glasses was nothing short of spectacular. Even after the peak was over and Rohan ran off to grab us bubble teas from Mr. Kaba, I couldn’t bring myself to look away.
Clearly, I wasn’t the only one. Among the many sentiments expressed by people across North America today:
“Wow, just wow….that was the wildest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“There are no words to describe it other than just complete awe.”
“It’s an experience that makes you feel like you’re a part of something big.”
Beyond the astronomical (and astrological!) significance of this rare event, I also couldn’t help but to think about the ways in which this afternoon’s eclipse calls to mind certain important lessons and truths. Things that I’m learning and hopefully leaning into more and more as the days and years go by.
1. Darkness and light can and do co-exist.
We all move through life with sorrows, regrets, disappointments and heartbreaks. It’s the price we pay for being human. And of course, the world itself is rife with injustice and cruelty, in ways big and small. And yet. In Washington, the moon veiled the sun for only 4 minutes and 28 seconds, after which the light returned. Because of course, it never went away. And so it is with life.
The spring always comes, etching more green in the palette of each new day and dotting your path with evocatively-named flowers - Virginia bluebells and paperbush. You gather on a Saturday night with friends that you’ve known for a quarter century, laughing about the old days while you feast on densely lush chocolate cake and drink too much champagne. Your 10-year old hugs you extra tight at bedtime, stating unequivocally: “Today was a good day, Mommy.” Joy, as Mary Oliver wrote, is not made to be a crumb.
2. The universe is vast. We are small. And all we have is now.
There’s nothing like natural phenomena to remind us of how tiny and insignificant we are, in the grand scheme of things. It’s the same sentiment that I have when I’m worshiping at the altar of the sea in Jamaica, watching the sun tuck beyond the seemingly endless horizon as its rays leave a detritus of vermilion, marigold and lilac. Or when, on a night more than 20 years ago when I was doing an internship in Senegal, we spent an evening in a village close to the Gambian border where a large and generous family hosted us. With no electricity, we dipped into a communal bowl of rice as we gazed up at the constellations doting the night sky, marveling at the fact that we were looking at the same stars as people thousands of kilometers away. I was reminded of this today: that we’re just a tiny - but connected - blip in an infinite universe.
Maybe it’s just me, but I somehow find this realization to be comforting. Growing up in a Western society as I did, there was a time when my ethos and the way I moved in the world seemed to echo those famous lines from “Invictus” by William Ernest Henley: “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.” There is of course truth and value to those words, but let’s face it – life doesn’t always go according to plan. Mine certainly hasn’t. There have been roadblocks and detours. Loss and lots of construction along the way. Wanting to feel and exert a sense of control is of course a very real human instinct, but I’m increasingly embracing the notion of letting the universe unfold as it may. To me, this also implies living fully in the now, because it’s really the only moment that’s promised to us.
3. Our possibilities are limitless. As are our multitudes.
We won’t see another total solar eclipse until 2044, if we’re lucky enough to be around then. So it goes without saying that it was a pretty singular and incredible occurrence. And while it underscores our insignificance, astrologers opine that this phenomenon is also a harbinger of super-charged energy and new possibilities. Because two things can be true, right?
Of course, I don’t mean “limitless” in its literal sense here. Depending on who we are and the degree of agency we have, our identities, abilities, circumstances and resources can and do impose very real limits on the possibilities at our disposal. What I mean is that each of us can be a little bit better tomorrow than we were today. Some people call that growth mindset. I think of it as the potential for evolution, and with very few exceptions, we all have that in spades.
In my experience, evolution also means allowing for the potential of many different selves, because we all contain multitudes. We don’t have to check just one box. We’re allowed to pivot and change course, holding space for the contradictions of life, because there are many.
Me personally?
I’m a poet and a pragmatist. Rational yet sentimental. Nomadic, but with deep roots. A mother and a lover. And as Rachel Cargle wrote in A Renaissance Of Our Own: “I give myself the space to be as expansive as I would like to be.”
Today’s eclipse was a reminder that the space is ours for the taking.
Really enjoyed this! Love how the solar eclipse led to these beautiful and resonant reflections, including on light always overcoming darkness. Really loved these lines: “I’m a poet and a pragmatist. Rational yet sentimental. Nomadic, but with deep roots. A mother and a lover. And as Rachel Cargle wrote in A Renaissance Of Our Own: “I give myself the space to be as expansive as I would like to be.”” We all contain multitudes- amen to that!
Greetings to fellow DC writer, nice to find you here. Blessings!