Experiencing Totality of Eclipse and Interconnection

Katie MacDonald
Aug 24, 2017 · 5 min read
Photo courtesy of Krista P. Woodward

This week I travelled to Monmouth, Oregon with my best friend Krista to see the total solar eclipse. At this point, you know about the ‘Great American Eclipse’ that happened on August 21st (here is more).

My experience was profound and, I hope, not unique amongst those who shared this cosmic experience. It offered a glimpse, if for only 123 seconds, that we are connection to this world and to one another.

Travel to the Orchard

A few days before the eclipse, I went online to pick a camping spot. This seems like it would be easy enough, but with prices looming around $500 a night for everything from a king sized bed to a patch of yellow grass, options were bleak. As luck would have it, I was scrolling 10 seconds after someone cancelled a $20 a night camping reservation at an orchard. I booked it without thinking twice, and we left Portland 48 hours before the eclipse began to beat the worst traffic.

As we soon discovered, driving to see an eclipse is like going on a pilgrimage. As you near the epicenter of the totality, you see signs of looming eclipse everywhere. Eclipse parking, eclipse vistas, eclipse T-shirts, poorly painted particle board signs, traffic cone warnings and flashing highway traffic delays. As we entered eclipse territory, it felt like we were succumbing to a specific gravity that got stronger the closer we got to our final destination.

Totality of Community

When we arrived at Truman and Suzie’s big white farm house on the orchard, we were greeted by their granddaughter Sammy and welcomed in. We quickly became acquainted with their giant, gentle 3 year old Newfoundland Nicholas, friendly family members and the over thirty other people camping in their orchard. Over the course of the day, we pitched our tent next to our new neighbors, picked blackberries and fed apples to their Jersey cows.

A world onto itself, their farm was a peaceful and sunny expanse where kids played and swallows ducked in and out of apple trees. There was a massive field next door where dust spun itself into lumbering vertical columns blowing around a perfectly verdant patch of sunflowers. They promised that in the evening, there would be fiddle and guitar, and there were.

Photo courtesy of Krista P. Woodward

I have never in my life felt the sense of instant community created by these people and our fellow travelers in their home. Beyond the frame of this photo are over twenty people listening and laughing as the music vibrated through the small living room and outdoor patio. We stayed up and shared stories with strangers. We drank ‘ecliptic’ grapefruit saison and local wine. I found myself aware of the absurdity that I didn’t know any of these people before that day, and yet they all felt like close friends and family on one shared journey into the unknown.

The Myth of Separateness

On the day of the eclipse, we woke up, eat granola with black berries and coffee and prepared to wait the hour until it all started. When I rolled out of my sleeping bag I took note of how lightheaded and dizzy my body felt. I figured this was just due to a restless night of sleeping on the ground, but these feelings only intensified as the morning wore on.

At 8:45am were casually told we should walk 300 yards to the right of our campsite as the view of the eclipse would be best there. Turns out that was because on this property was the EPICENTER of a 60 mile band of totality visible across Oregon. We had stumbled across a needle in the already enormous haystack of eclipse probabilities.

As we settled in for the onset of the eclipse at 9am, I felt as though a dementor had sucked the energy out of my body. I felt as though I was being deprived oxygen to my internal organs without struggling for breath. It was an insane feeling that is well articulated in Trina Harmon’s ‘Are You Experiencing These Physical Symptoms After the Eclipse?’.

From 9am — 10:16am we watched as the moon overtook the sun, slowly turning it into a sliver. Over the course of this time, the temperature dropped about 5 degrees and the quality of light from the sun waned, becoming like a weak white light in a dimly lit basement. By 10:15am we had 2 minutes before total eclipse and the moon slowly completed it’s take over. As this happened, sun peaked through lunar valleys on the moon igniting one last burning pink ring around the sun and then at 10:17am, quiet.

The feeling of witnessing what came next can only be described as experiencing complete inner and outer peace and connection. The moon sunk into the disc of the sun creating almost a vacuum as ephemeral white strands as thin as human hairs (the sun’s corona) wove a halo around the sun and moon. The sky was a royal blue, causing the eclipse to look like a pupil suspended in a fluid iris. The horizon line (visible 360 degrees around us) bled a bright orange that faded into yellow, green, blue and finally collapsed into one single point of totality. Time stood still.

As I witnessed this moment of pure peace, I felt myself and my being merge with my surroundings. I experienced a beauty so pure and hyper concentrated, it caused my body to lean into it and release through a stream of tears which ran down my face silently for the whole 123 seconds.

Photo by Katie MacDonald

I wish for everyone to experience this moment of calm and connection I did through seeing a total eclipse. At this point, there is not much else that can be explained in words, so I’ll give the last ones to his Holiness the Dali Lama.

)
Welcome to a place where words matter. On Medium, smart voices and original ideas take center stage - with no ads in sight. Watch
Follow all the topics you care about, and we’ll deliver the best stories for you to your homepage and inbox. Explore
Get unlimited access to the best stories on Medium — and support writers while you’re at it. Just $5/month. Upgrade