Eclipsèd

No matter the number of articles you read, podcasts you listen to, blogs you scroll through, you will be very bothered by the question "How was the eclipse?" after having the opportunity to experience a total solar eclipse. It's not that any of those people were lying about the experience -- quite the contrary -- it's that words aren't the best medium for portraying the experience in the first place. Words simply do not seem to carry the momentous weight of the phenomenon.

On August 21, 2017, I was lucky enough to experience "The Great American Eclipse" at totality with one of my very best friends, Katie, north of Boise, ID. Specifically, north of Ola, ID. Even more specifically, at N 44°16'25.032" W 116°19'08.808". Here's a view from above:

The location was surprisingly tranquil with a small group of grazing horses at the bottom of the valley and the Squaw Creek flowing. There were three other groups of Eclipse watchers near by, but we were all out of hearing distance of each other. We chose to have a "separate" viewing experience, but it still felt like we were part of the huge group of people watching.

Pano of our terresterial Eclipse view

At about 10:15, we put on our Eclipse glasses and saw the first bits of the Sun being eaten away by the Moon. As it slowly drifted further over the Sun, we talked about going into this next chapter of our lives without fear and with joy. We talked about the new chapter this will open for the country - the new, higher level of vibration that the consciousness of the human race will start to accelerate toward and the significance of this this ushering Eclipse happening over the United States. We could use a higher plane right now. We talked about jobs, relationships, romance, politics, family, "shit families," physics, astronomy, astrology, metaphysics, empathic abilities, and the Divine.

When about 80% of the Sun was Eclipsèd, I felt the temperature drop and the canyon winds become cooler. At 90% Eclipsèd, it had dropped by 10°F. We said, "This is what Salt Lake will be seeing in about eight minutes! Wow!" At the same time, we heard an airplane, but couldn't find it in the sky. It must have been on the other side of the small mountain peak in front of us. It echoed and roared through the small valley. It sounded like the shadow of the moon was accelerating toward us so quickly and stirring up the atmosphere in such a way that it made an actual noise. But I'm pretty sure it was an airplane...

At 90% totality, the light around looks strange. Almost like it's overcast, but the sky is clear and light isn't being diffused through clouds. It's simply dimmer.

The picture above doesn't capture the lighting change in a specific way, but if you compare it to the panorama above, you'll notice the camera compensated for the lighting change by making this photo a bit warmer.

95% appraoches and it gets colder and more eerie. 97%...98%... The temperate has plummeted nearly 20°F. I turned around to take a picture of the incredibly blue sky behind me. Again, the camera compensated for the change in light, but the strikingly blue sky lets you know it was looking remarkably close to twilight.

As totality approaches, I feel my ancient DNA perk up and strike me with a dash of fear and terror - old memories of the ancients who didn't know what was happening to their Sun in these moments.

99% and the crescent Sun is now a slightly curved line, then a line, then a dot. I take my glasses off and squint to my left waiting for the diamond of the last bit of Sunlight. It bursts. I relax my eyes. I look up. I gasp. Katie was a few seconds late to the party, but she got there, haha!

I try to take a couple of pictures. These are the best I could get: a portion of the 360° sunset and the Eclipse itself - there's actually a little black dot in the center of that white light!

Eclipse Twilight Sunset

Eclipse. I know it's an awful picture, but it's the best I've got. The memory is crystal clear.

Eclipse. I know it's an awful picture, but it's the best I've got. The memory is crystal clear.

Next to the Sun/Moon, you could see Mercury and further along in the solar path you could see Venus - neither of which you ever get to see in the middle of the day. The Corona. How does anybody describe seeing the Sun's Corona?

Time stopped when it hit. Looking back, it feels like it lasted forever and one second simultaneously.

I keep telling everyone I can't quite find the words to describe the experience, so I'm going to list as many as I can. Are you ready?

other-worldly, frightening, awe-inspiring, weird breath-taking, transcendent, beautiful, enchanting, peaceful, joyful, blinding, backwards, inverse, important, weird, dim, bizarre, chilly, amazing, alien, rapturous, overwhelming, adrenaline-filled, weird, dusty (but that was just because of the dirt road), serene, stunning, spiritual, grounding, too fast, too short infinite, enveloping, shadowed, incredible, weird, natural gasp-worthy, Divine, unforgettable, electrifying, emotional, "worth the drive...totally worth the drive", 

Also, weird.

See? Words don't really cut it.

The spiritual gravity of this will continue to strike me and sink in over the coming days...weeks...and longer, I am sure. And you'll surely hear more from me about it.

Fag.

I hate this word.
Not surprisingly, I also hate the word "faggot."
I'm actually cringing as I type these.
I'm not going to type it again.

In my world, this f word is like the n word.
...Only I don't allow other homos to use this word around/at me either.
It's not funny.

Some words have a tendency to carry as much baggage as a cargo jet.
This is one of those words.
No matter how lightheartedly it is used...
No matter how often it is used...
No matter how incorrectly it is used...
No matter who uses it...
Its intensity does not fade,
It's still derogatory,
It still hurts,
and it's still rude.

In fact, it's abusive.