1
A few months ago, we decided to make a slight modification to our spring break schedule. Justin would have about 10 days off from school. We decided to push that to two weeks and fly to Texas. There was an eclipse happening, and we didn’t want to miss it.
Longtime readers will know that space is one of Justin’s autistic fixations. He has loved it for as long as I can remember. And it seemed like he passed the basic stuff - names of the planets, basic facts about the sun and moon, etc. - when he was 3 or 4. Now he will get into details about the history of the universe and asks deep questions about the cosmos. He wants to know what happened during the first few seconds after the big bang, or what might happen ten trillion years from now.
One of my favorite questions was when he asked me what it felt like when a star died. “Do you think it hurts them, dad,” he asked? “Or are they so blinded by the brightness of the supernova that they don’t feel anything?”
I don’t know, Justin. I really don’t. Something tells me that if anyone has the brain and the curiosity that might figure it out one day, it’s you. And we want to support that. To support YOU.
So we bought airplane tickets. Found a place to stay. And we went to Texas for two days to see the eclipse. After all, the next one won’t hit the US for over 20 years. By that point I will be 72 years old. There are no guarantees. A few more days of missed school are worth it.
And so on April 8 we found ourselves in the courtyard of an airport hotel in Irving, Texas, looking up at the sky and praying the clouds would break long enough for us to feel the dark and see the ring of fire.
2
No one is exactly sure how the moon formed. The prevailing theory is that a large protoplanet called Theia slammed into the newly forming Earth at the dawn of the solar system - 50 million years or so after the beginning of our star system. This massive collision resulted in a massive debris field, which would eventually coalesce into the moon.
Other scientists believe that the moon and Earth were formed at the same time, and from the same material. They see the two bodies, in fact, as a system. Some go so far as to say that the moon is the Earth’s twin. The moon probably even had an active molten core at some point, and maybe even liquid water. After all, there is ice on the moon even as you read this. There may have even been life on the moon at some point.
Regardless of which view of the formation of the moon scientists see as more likely, there are a handful of scientific facts no one disputes:
One, the moon and the Earth are made of the same stuff. The minerals and elements that appear on one appear on the other. And they aren’t just similar. They are identical.
Two, the moon and Earth are inextricably linked. What happens with one body, affects the other. From tides, to weather patterns, to…. well, eclipses, the moon and Earth are linked.
Three, the moon is tied to human culture in an inextricable way, going back to the dawn of homo sapiens. The moon has served as timekeeper, guide, and god. It has been a source of fascination and fear, of comfort and calamity.
Four, the moon is, for all of its similarity with Earth, a desert. Void of life. Dark. For all intents and purposes, it is dead.
And five. Every year the moon’s orbit takes it a little bit farther away from us. We’ll never notice. Humans will be long gone before it really starts to matter, but at some point we will no longer be connected to the moon.
3
The Navajo believe that an eclipse is a time of reverence and reflection. Some Hindus see it as a bad omen. Some fringe Christian sects believe it to be a sign of the second coming. The Inca - who worshiped the sun - believed eclipses to be a sign that the sun was angry and would dish out consequences as a result of his displeasure. For the Batammaliba people of West Africa, eclipses are seen as a call to peace and reconciliation. Just as the sun and moon come together, they believe, so should people in conflict.
The moon’s cultural significance means that something as profound as an eclipse has meaning beyond a satellite traversing the sky.
Aristotle believed that a full moon could induce insanity in some people.
Eclipses make the invisible visible. At the height of the eclipse in Texas we were able to see both Jupiter and Venus with the naked eye. At 1:43 in the afternoon.
4
Today is the 8th anniversary of my failed suicide attempt. My “I suck at suicide” Day.
My Alive Day.
I am eternally grateful that I didn’t hurt myself or anyone else 8 years ago. But I am mindful that, like the Earth, I carry a satellite with me. Something that is part of me, that affects me, that goes where I go. This is a part of me that is dark, and devoid of life.
We all have that part. The part that is sad and afraid. The part that hurts so much we don’t know what to say or do. The part that gets anxious and angry, is impatient and selfish. The part of us that wants to stay in bed all day, or lash out, or disappear.
The first thing you notice about an eclipse is how dark it gets. How the temperature drops. How the birds seem confused. When the moon steals the light of the sun it can feel like someone is drawing a curtain on… everything.
I felt like that 8 years ago. In the dark. Lost and confused. I didn’t care about myself or anyone else I just wanted the pain to stop. I wanted someone to turn the light on.
In the end, the greatest lesson of the eclipse is this - NOTHING LASTS FOREVER. Not pain. Not heartbreak or fear or anxiety. Not joy. Everything is temporary. It is just a moment. And the sun comes out. The light is always there, even when you can’t see it. Pain is temporary. Always temporary.
Just as the moon is slowly drifting away, every year takes me a little farther from this day. A little better. A little healthier. I haven’t had a drink since Alive Day. I am sober 2921 days. 2922 if I get through today.
No pain lasts forever. I learned that the hard way.
5
In the end, the clouds broke and we saw what we came to see. We traveled 2800 miles, spent 12 hours on the plane and in the airport, and spent way too much money to see a cosmic event that lasted less than 3 minutes. And it was worth it.
It was all worth it.
Justin was amazing the whole trip. He didn’t get frustrated or agitated once. He dealt with lines and security and all of the annoyances of modern air travel. And he was serene. Like he knew how important this was. Like he was connected to some cosmic understanding that most of us won’t ever have.
In the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder how the sun - our star - might feel one day when it slowly runs out of fuel and becomes first a red giant, then a white dwarf, then a black dwarf, then slowly fades away…
Will the Sun hurt? Or will it know all the good it did? Will it remember the light and heat it gave for billions of years, smiling on this odd corner of a single blue and green planet that somehow, inexplicably, produced beings with some small awareness of how small they are? Will it rest knowing that energy is neither destroyed or created, simply transformed?
Where will its energy go? How will it transform?
This energy is what lasts. Us. Our essence. The things that connect us to one another. That is immutable. Everything else is ephemeral. Even the things that seem permanent.
I was there for the eclipse. I was there for Justin. I am here now.
I still have my moon. We all do. Dark days still come. They will come. And when they do it can be scary. And I strive to remember that the sun always comes again. That can steady my fears. Then I can look around and realize that the dark can be beautiful in its way too.
Like a sky darkened by an eclipse.
I focus on what lasts. Connection - to my family and my friends. My community and world. My connection to myself and my heart. To things that truly matter.
And I smile and wait for the sun.
May it ever be so.
So glad you all got experience the eclipse. We did too, in a city park in East Prairie, MO. No crowds, just our family and the changing light. It was worth it.
I am so glad you are here.