Writing practice from 8/21/2017

Describe An Eclipse…

It begins with a slight darkening. Once you realize that it is not as bright out beside you, you take off your specially-ordered, ISO-whatever-approved, custom-printed glasses and look around. You see shapes becoming crisper. The bushes are not as brilliant on their own. There is a bit of a hush to the crowd. They have also noticed the slight darkening. For all of you, when you look to the heavens, there is almost a spiritual connection. All of you, together in this place, are experiencing this. You have gathered here to sanctify this ground, to bless it with your presence as you see, as you show, as you become one with this unifying force. There is nothing else for you today – no work, no labor, no stress, no headache. You are ready for the connection. You wait for the moon to blacken out the sun; to destroy the God of the sky. To eat away your reason for being, to consume what birthed you and your people. You do not know what is happening; yet, you believed the stories your elders have told you, and you now know they were not simply fairy tales. The tension grows. It builds and builds, a crescendo of hope, fear mixed together. There is a desire – a justified trepidation – that runs through the crowd.

You watch as the moon covers, more and more, of the golden disk. At first it looked like a mouse had nibbled a bite off a cheese wheel. Then as if a dinner party had helped themselves. Then as if a wedding got out of control, and all the guests had attacked the golden disk – tearing out hunks with their hands, leaving only a brilliant crescent balanced against a pure-black sky. The crescent shrinks, narrowing, darkening, until just a small band remains.

And then, that too, is gone. And you remove your glasses to stare up at a hole in the sky- to see an absence, where you used to see presence. To see a void, a tunnel through the vastness of space to the edge of the universe. The brilliant white of the shell, corona, halo, wispy against the still-blue sky, frames it as a terrible, awesome, incredible backdrop, upon which some angels and demons have painted their greatest fears. The backdrop remains, still, unmoving, as you know and fear the end of this spectacle. The countdown resumes, and then the brilliance returns, the sun in its power and authority once more reclaiming its rightful place in the sky.

You wait – we wait – for a few moments, as the cheers of “Hooray!” And “We survived” ring out across the land. We wait a few moments, and watch, with our glasses returned to protect us again, the sliver, the slice, the line, the crescent, grows back again. But the tension has dissolved. Now it is just a curiosity. A past-time. A wonder that was, and has had all of its mystery dissipated. People have left. They continue to leave. And there is no more wonder, no more confusion. No more worry; no more fear. No more anticipation, either. Yet for all that is not, think of all there is. Restoration. – Peace – Joy. – Hope. Renewal. Adventure. Progress.

We see these, we experience, we love them all. And we go forth and live.