My Eclipse Experience
In 1989 I lived in Oakland California and worked in San Fransisco. Late one afternoon as I opened an apartment door on the third floor of an unreinforced masonry building an enormous earthquake swept through the city. I staggered in the doorway, clutching the doorframe for support as the first wave rocked the building. Then the second wave hit. Looking out the window on the far side of the room I could see the entire hillside rippling, undulating like water after a ships passing. When the third wave came I ran. This experience changed my perception of the world. All those tropes about safe as houses, solid as a rock, even the stone that the builder refuses, were knocked away. I now saw the world as a transitory thing, shaped by forces beyond my ken.
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The eclipse was one of the most astonishing, awe inspiring and beautiful things I have ever seen. I was with friends and family in a large clearing at 5000 feet in the Blue Mountains in eastern Oregon directly under the path of totality. Most of the time I was playing with my daughter Iris and her friend Poppy, chatting with the wonderful people who camped near us and watching the slow progress of the moon across the face of the sun. We joked about primitive people and the legends of eclipses shaping events. As we neared 90% talk started about what people back home in Seattle would be seeing. Things started to become strange. Shadows softened, we developed umbras and penumbras of our own, the whole landscape softened as the hard edges of shadows spread apart. Colors lost intensity, almost like moonlight but not. We had been facing east, looking at the last slice of sun, still warm on our faces. Suddenly from the West a strange twilight occurred at many times normal speed, the first stars came out, bats flew from the trees and the temperature dropped. Turning to the West we saw the darkness hurtling towards us at planetary speed. That was when the terror started. I knew then as surely as I do now sitting here writing this that the event was an astronomical one, predictable and normal. I reveled in it’s glory, open mouthed, stunned by beauty and scale. But it was wrong. The darkness moved so fast. Turning back to the East the sun was gone, replace by a hole in the sky. Wraith like tendrils of cold fire surrounded the void. The source of all life was gone, no warmth emanated from the sky. Cold fingers clutched some ancient part of the back of my brain. Everything was wrong. Nothing was as it should be.
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After the event as we walked down hill to our camp and I talked to Ben Duncan, Poppy’s dad about this small but unshakable part of the experience. I mentioned my earthquake story and seeing the hillside move like water. Over the years as I have told that story most people roll there eyes or assume I am exaggerating. Ben didn’t bat an eye. He turned to me and said “I saw that too. I was in San Fransisco that day”. Some times the world is a very small place.