WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 8, 2014: For all who are aware and in awe of the
natural wonders of the cosmos, the night prior to an early morning celestial
event oft involves a state of wakefulness; not unlike the type experienced by a
young kid anticipating a visit from Santa Claus. Such is the way I spent my
overnight hours between yesterday and today.
One of my many return-to-consciousness
moments involved the sound of rain hitting my roof’s shingles. This was my “oh
no”, déjà vu moment because, just this past April, clouds had dropped the
curtains down on and then rained out another lunar eclipse. But, I did manage
to drift back to sleep; only slightly reassured by recollections of a fairly
reliable weather forecast; one, which had called for clearing after midnight.
Eventually, my 2
a.m. wake up time for this special day arrived and the first thing I did was
take a gander out a westward facing window. It was damp pavement below and
wispy clouds rapidly racing across the face of the full Moon above.
While chowing
down my very, very early breakfast, I considered the aesthetics and mechanics
of this lunar event; in particular, the pros and cons of using my telescope. After
all, even sans any magnification, an eclipse is already spectacular. And there
was a practical consideration, too. After all, an optical aid wouldn’t be of
much use if the semi-transparent cloud deck were obscuring the cratered details
of the Moon.
Well, once the
KP was history, I stepped outside to find out that the well-known aphorism about
highly changeable Michigan weather was true. Wow, what a difference a couple of
hours can make. The clouds had thoroughly dissipated, and, in addition to the
now fully visible full moon to the west, a couple of other celestial
attractions (Jupiter and the Orion Constellation / Nebula) had already risen
well above the hazy horizon to the east.
And so, my next
mission was to scope out the ideal spot to set up my scope. By the time I was
up and running, the eclipse was just getting underway. Impressive to the naked
eye and even more so in the finder scope, the telescopic view was (forgive the
wordplay) out of this world. And, soon after settling in, nature started to
cast her spell upon me.
Folks, there’s a
certain something that changes one’s mood (for the better) once the still of
the night’s pervasive hush descends and envelops; as the chill of the early
autumn breeze hits one’s face. A liberating feeling, which permits one to
simply shut down worldly concerns and merge with the great outdoors; to stand
in peaceful solitude under the vast Milky Way.
Even the
auditory sense becomes heightened with the hum of far off, thoroughfare
traffic; light winds rustling through the maple tree leaves; the occasional
falling leaf dryly skidding across the sidewalk and driveway; even the residual
rainwater drips dripping down a downspout.
These minute
decibels had provided the soundtrack, which accompanied the amazing sight of our
planet Earth’s shadow, ever so silently, ever so steadily, “inching” over the
Moon’s surface. As has happened to me during past eclipses, I had to pause and
reflect; had to wonder… in order for this to even be possible… who (or what
force) had fashioned these two immense, spheroid “rocks” into just the right
size, set them at the correct distances apart and aligned them with such
precision?
Beyond that?
Well…
There’s a
certain perception of timelessness to a lunar eclipse, as well. Obviously, while
it’s all happening, it’s so easy to lose track of the minutes and hours… but
there’s even more to it, too. Think of the countless generations of humans who,
down through the millennia, have all shared in this rather unique experience.
There’s also a
strong sense of bonding with each and every other Earthling simultaneously,
looking up at the sky. And, although, for the most part, they're unseen, they are part of a vast planetary
audience. They all stand, united, beside each and every one of us.
As proof that
there is a basis for my above claim, one early morning riser, seeing me gazing
skyward today, actually said, “Good Morning” to me as she jogged past my house.
And, during Earth’s August 2003 close encounter with Mars, a man driving past
my house stopped to chat for a few moments re that event.
One can easily
sense our oneness with the universe. And, on this cosmic scale, it is entirely
possible to feel humbled and insignificant and yet, somehow, simultaneously, feel
emboldened and part of something bigger.
Yes, those were
my reflections while my scope was refracting light. And while that was
happening, slowly but surely, the lit face of the Moon eventually became
cloaked in totality. At that point some astronomers had been predicting Earth’s
satellite could take on a shade of blood red. Well, from my vantage point, I’d
have to categorize it as more of an orange-like hue; one similar to the “red
planet” Mars.
Well… that was
about it. Since I had studied many of this eclipse’s other particulars, too, it
came as no big surprise to me that, this time around, at least in my neck of
the woods, everything would be “ending” far too soon.
As dawn’s early
light began to assert itself in the east, the moon was sinking into the misty,
distant, western treetops. Nope, I would not be seeing the reappearance of the
moon… for that I’ll have to wait for moonrise, tonight.
Now, since this
blog site, All That’s Left, is
usually devoted to almost all things political, I do feel it’s my duty to make
at least a couple of applicable comments.
Firstly, for
those of us on the left who, re the
sorry state of the U.S. and world, are feeling exasperation to the max; are
feeling a level of powerlessness, which is driving us to despondency, I highly
encourage you to try some stargazing… perhaps as early as the very next nightfall? As the song Up On The Roof
correctly claims, “At night the stars put on a show for free.” And, as I claim,
this free show can help free you, too.
As for my second
comment, it’s my heartfelt wish that the powers that be (in particular the
righties in the U.S.); indeed, all of the narrow-minded leaders worldwide,
could all look upward and trade off their delusions of grandeur for the sanity,
which the grandeur of the universe can inspire.
Even if these
“leaders” could feel a mere fraction of what I feel whenever I become a backyard
astronomer, they’d soon realize that we are all in this TOGETHER; that there’s no place on Earth for their vicious and
avaricious MO.
Maybe then these
“leaders” would be able to mend their wretched ways?
Oh… if only
there was no need to punctuate that above sentence with a question mark…
