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October 18, 2014

Mesmerized by the Powers that Be.

moon

When my alarm woke me up at 6:15 this morning, I wondered why on earth it was going off so early.

When I remembered that it was to catch a glimpse of the lunar eclipse I got motivated to drag my sleepy self out of bed. I put on my slippers and a sweat shirt, made my way downstairs, contemplated fixing my morning brew to take with me and decided to first go see if the moon was even visible.

I walked out of the house and gazed toward the heavens. The early morning sky was clear—I could readily identify Orion’s Belt.

I headed west down Beechwood Avenue toward Baxter, wearing my slippers and jammies, and wondered with a certain sense of urgency, will I be able to see the moon?

I arrived at the end of the street where a young teenage girl was waiting in the dark for the school bus. At that moment, between trees in Saint Louis Cemetery, I spotted the Blood Moon hanging low in the sky, like a red alabaster taw. Just as the astronomers and meteorologists had promised, there it really was.

I said to the girl, “Look! Come see! There’s a total eclipse of the moon!” She hung back, hugging herself in the chilly morning, assessing whether or not I was a safe person to approach. “I know you probably think I’m a crazy old lady, but it’s okay, come and see the moon.”

She looked in the direction I pointed, and I said, “You have to come over here to see it.”

She moved closer to me, looked at the moon, hugged herself a little more enthusiastically, hunched her shoulders forward and said, “I’m cold.”

Her blasé response did not discourage me. I knew that when she was older— perhaps with the next tetrad of lunar eclipses in 2032 and 2033—she would remember. “When I was 13 years old, I was waiting for the school bus one chilly morning,” she would recount, “when this woman in her pyjamas appeared and pointed out the lunar eclipse that was happening right in front of my eyes, and I wasn’t even aware.”

She might even have children of her own, one day. And when they are learning about eclipses of the sun and moon, she would tell them the story of when she was waiting for the bus just before the break of dawn in October of 2013, and a stranger appeared and showed her the Blood Moon.

A couple more kids arrived, a younger boy whose attention was focused on a device with the screen lit up in the dark and the other, a teenager with wires coming out of his ears. A jogger passed, and someone walking their dog went by. “Look at the moon!” I wanted to cry out to everybody, but I just wasn’t up to the responsibility. Not dressed the way I was.

The bus came; the kids got on and left me to my moon-gazing.

I sat on the low, limestone retaining wall and wished I had a giant mug of hot coffee as I pondered the wonders of the universe.

I recalled feeling the earth shift beneath me one sunny afternoon in Palo Alto, California. The initial movement was a sudden jolt so violent I thought an eighteen-wheeler had run into the house. But that was followed by a gentle rocking that mesmerized me, and, as if in silent slow motion, I did a sweep of the first and second floors.

In less than 60 seconds, carrying my eight-month-pregnant belly, I stowed my three-year-old under a table. Then I went upstairs, taking two moving steps at a time, and plucked my 18-month-old from her bed, who I could see was screaming but cannot remember hearing a sound. With my daughter firmly clasped under an arm, we rushed back down to join my little boy, calmly sitting under the table.

By then, the windows had stopped rattling but inertia kept the dining room chandelier swinging back and forth after the earth’s plates came to their resting point. We were among the lucky ones to have felt the power of the planet and not been trapped under a collapsed bridge.

It was at that moment that I fully realized the universe is in charge; but instead of being frightened by this epiphany, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace.

I was in complete awe.

I sat on the cool stone at the break of dawn and watched our planet’s movement in its shadow on the moon. It is mind-blowing that we are being propelled at high speed through space, and yet we still stand upright with our feet on the ground.

As Neil Young put it, “It’s a wonder tall trees ain’t layin’ down.”

For a significant moment, I felt the complete mystery and power of the universe.

I realized just how small I was in comparison.

Disoriented and elated by the magic wand that had just passed over me, I got up, dusted off my chilled rear end and walked home to make my morning latte and greet the sun.

 

 

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Editor: Renée Picard

Photo: Hartwig HKD at Flickr 

 

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