Totality, the Experience
Within the path of totality you do not simply witness the marvels of a celestial event; you become a part of it.

The great American solar eclipse of 2017 happened yesterday, August 21st. People traveled far and wide to be within the path of totality. My mom, sister, niece and nephew made the long, gridlocked trip all the way from Pennsylvania to Tennessee so we could experience it together.
None of us really knew what to expect. We read up and watched a documentary on totality. We bought glasses from Amazon that we later found were not certified safe. This lead us to a Mexican restaurant an hour away, one of the last remaining places that was not sold out of eclipse glasses.
Our house was within the path of totality but instead of watching it from the comfort of our yard we chose to walk to the middle of a large bridge spanning the Tennessee river. From this vantage point we not only had sweeping views of the landscape, we had the energy of a crowd.
Bluebird skies and searing sun left us dripping wet with sweat as we waited two hours for the moon to complete it’s journey. Cars passing by honked their horns and passengers waved. Strangers offered each other sunscreen, water, and shared knowledge on what to expect as we collectively counted down the minutes to totality. Cameras mounted on tripods dotted the sidewalk.
Roughly five minutes before totality everything began to change. There was an unearthly color and quality to the light, temperatures cooled, cicadas began to sing, birds flocked and shadows danced across the earth in crescent cutouts. You could feel a change in the energy of the atmosphere, still and heavy. Then darkness, stars appear and the crowd cheers! Glasses come off and with your own eyes you see a black hole within a narrow ring of fire. A hole in the sky in place of the sun. It was spectacular, astonishing, extraordinary, awesome; all the adjectives one could use to describe extreme feeling and wonder.
For those two minutes of totality, I imagine most everyone felt like children again. Filled with amazement and pure delight in the face of mother nature. I expected to cry but there were only goosebumps, shrieks, laughter and smiles.
It was as if the sun had died only to be reborn minutes later.
And while yesterday was the happiest of days it is unfortunate that we live in a world where we now feel unsafe in public spaces. Yesterday on that bridge as I looked around at everyone gathered together and cops drove by smiling and waving as they filmed spectators from their golf cart, my worries subsided and I did feel safe. But the reality is the night before the eclipse, my family and I sat at our dinner table discussing whether or not it was a wise decision to observe the event from a bridge. Terrorism, hate crimes and distracted drivers were all scenarios that had us questioning whether or not we should put ourselves within a crowd, perched on top of a bridge. After some debate, we decided that terrorism was unlikely in such a small town and brushed aside all other risks. And I am glad that we did.
The universe presented a gift to humanity yesterday and it was meant to be shared.
