In 2017, the Moon slid her body between the Sun and Earth, and her shadow streched in a long unwavering line across the United States. That line of totality was very close to my home, so I made the trek there, late in the night with my husband and daughter, a futon mattres crammed in the back of our van, pillows piled high, breakfast and lunch stashed in a cooler. Such preparations we made for an event that lasted only minutes! But those fleeting minutes carved a mark on my psyche, mysterious and aching.
The eclipse changed me. It was as if the world was broken into tiny fragments. Holographs. Particles rearragned themselves, like iron filings touched by a magnet. The Sun, blocked by the dark body of the Moon, revealed Himself in a manner otherwise impossible. Shadow and Light became prounounced, defined. Purified somehow.
I can’t even describe the feeling. Language has limits.
We can’t box up the things we don’t have words for. Mysteries tangle inside us, nestling warm with something more. Somthing inside each of us, something we want to experience, to know outside of ourselves, the Queen that resides in your heart, the King benevolent, trapped in your skin.
