on totality, again
I watched the total solar eclipse on August 21, 2017 from a friend’s garden in central Oregon. I lived in Portland at the time. It was a HOT summer. When we learned the path of totality was crossing just a few hours south, we fell into some sort of fever dream. For weeks, my roommate Karina and I fed off of each other’s hype. We watched a documentary about totality chasers. We read Annie Dillard’s incredible essay, Total Eclipse. We hosted a dinner party with round foods. Driving down Route 5 the night before, I told Karina I brought a white dress to wear and she said “me too!” - an unplanned coincidence, or the universal uniform of cult following, of worship, of devotion.
Seeing a partial eclipse bears the same relation to seeing a total eclipse as kissing a man does to marrying him, or as flying in an airplane does to falling out of an airplane. — Annie Dillard
TOTALITY was an otherworldly experience - the white ring shining behind the new moon of course the climax of that - but the haze that preceded and followed it was equally psychedelic. I remember that there was a plum tree in the yard and slowly the fruit turned an incandescent purple as the moon covered the sun. It was a color I had never seen before in nature. In the afterglow of totality, I took a nap in the yard - one of a handful of naps I’ve ever taken as an adult. We had lunch: our friend David sliced his uncle’s home-cured prosciutto, and I ate a canteloupe from the garden with a spoon. Later, we drove to a gorgeous swimming hole on the South Santiam River, put on our bathing suits and chacos (the uniform of Oregon summer) and spent the afternoon jumping and floating beneath giant douglas firs. On the way back to Portland, we stopped at Dairy Queen and Karina looked at my half-licked cone and called it vanilla-soft-serve-blue , another color I won’t forget.
It was an exceptional day.
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The total eclipse is coming to me once again. Now I live in New York and the path is further, though still in driving distance. To my chagrin, I have not walked into a single shop or cafe playing Total Eclipse of the Heart!! My orbit in New York is full of astro-girls who say things like “his Venus is in Scorpio” which I think should lend itself well to the eclipse-mania I am looking for, but there is a disconnect between the horoscopes and the astronomy that precedes them. Many of the people talking about the “total eclipse in Aries” will be in the office on Monday. Some of them share warnings about ominous eclipse energy- a discourse that makes me feel like, I get it - you read tarot - but can you stay home and let the rest of us LIVE? Because seeing the eclipse really feels like living, in a way I am honestly desperate for. Riding for the feeling.~
While my acupuncturist places my needles, I ask if she plans to watch. She says no, “my friend had a miscarriage during the last one.” I try to reconcile all of this information with the images of neon plums, prosciutto, and the South Santiam that have been swirling around in my head for 7 years but cannot and decide it isn’t necessary. Still, I almost let this one slide myself until I hang out with my friend Ope, who reveals herself as a fellow totality-head (finally! need to start a club!) - she flew to Tennessee in 2017 and has had an A-frame booked in Vermont for months for this year’s show. I send her the Annie Dillard essay and book myself a hotel in Lake George.
—
My friend Julie comes with me. We drive up from Brooklyn and stay in one of the few hotels open off-season. The room looks like it has not been updated in 40 years but we both sleep exceptionally well despite our excitement— quiet darkness always a welcome treat from city sleeping. Lake George is not quite in the path, so we head north in the morning on back roads and scope out a good spot in the southern Adirondacks, where the forest opens up to a big marsh with plenty of sky to see. The energy of *eclipse day* feels frenetic. I am anxious about traffic and have a stomach ache and a quiet voice in me wonders what if this IS the end? and I wonder if I am on the verge of an anxiety attack when it all gets cured by .. breakfast and 2 cups of chamomile tea. Another day in a body on Planet Earth. Julie is having a bit of a ~moment~ of her own, which is partially triggered by realizing the random ass town we ended up in is where her parents sent her to bible camp as a child. We each take alone time in the surrounding woods and by the time the partial eclipse is underway, we’ve calmed down and join the small crowd in the marsh. Most people are on camp chairs but one couple cuddles in a makeshift bed in their pickup truck - I make a mental note to find a husband with a truck by the next total eclipse (2045).
Totality is, once again, fucking FANTASTIC. To me, it is not profound because of something it might represent or cause. It is PROFOUND because it is spectacular in its own right. It is gorgeous and unexpected and dramatic and a little scary. It cannot in any way be captured well with a camera (though I give in to the millennial urge to try)— it is a full sensory experience. The plants and people change form in eclipse light. The marsh and surrounding cedar/hemlock forest take on a goldish-grayish hue. Adults and children scream and laugh and jump and freeze. We have our little seats with our little snacks and watch (and feel) these massive celestial bodies move like they always have, though today’s timing gives us *mere mortals* a glimpse at the supernatural. It feels like another world, but it is ours.
And then the moon shifts, and the sun returns, and I feel comfort in knowing that a group of people can still tune in to nature, all together, all at once. Too cold to swim this time, but we stop for ice cream on the way home.
NOTES
1: Here is Annie’s essay again. It is SO good and makes me not want to share my own words on the subject to the couple of dozen friends who might actually read this. But it’s been a minute, so hi!
2: Riding For the Feeling is a song by Bill Calahan.
3: One of my best friends, Fiona, interviewed me about RAIN for her new newsletter, Over The Weather. I hate rain but had a lot of fun thinking and writing about it. You can read it and subscribe here. :)