Our universe is miraculous. That’s why I always make an effort to bear witness to what is going on up in the sky. Meteor showers, comets, eclipses, supermoons, planets visible to the naked eye, solstices and equinoxes, all things stellar, and even the passing of the international space station or a satellite. I’ve yet to see an aurora, but I hope to do so eventually.
And that’s the rub, isn’t it? We never have enough time. The older you get, the more you realize this. It’s bittersweet. When you are younger, you don’t realize how precious time is. You’re much more likely to waste it. It’s heartbreaking to witness.
“A total eclipse, you say? Well, that date and location isn’t convenient for me. I’ll just wait for the next one.”
When I hear that, I want to scream. For all you know, this might be your last eclipse, ever. Or it might be your last chance, ever, to make a someone you love. Once it’s gone, there is no turning back.
Take every chance you can to be in awe, dear reader. Those opportunities are few and far between, especially since we seem so hellbent on destroying this planet. You never know when you’ll be astounded for the very last time. Life is so incredibly random. Every second has value.
By way of example, Harry Chapin had no idea how prescient his song “Cat’s in the Cradle” would actually be. It is one of the most well-known songs about how fleeting time can be. He wrote it in 1975. Six years later, he died at age 38. His car was hit by a semi-truck while he was driving to perform at a concert.
On his headstone in Huntington, New York, are some of the lyrics from a lesser known, but equally prescient song that he wrote in 1978:
Oh if a man tried To take his time on Earth And prove before he died What one man's life could be worth I wonder what would happen to this world
I’ll leave you with a photo that a friend took just south of Seattle, Washington, during the annular eclipse a few days ago. I took the liberty of enhancing it with filters to make it even more dramatic. Those of us who got to witness this incredible event, despite not seeing the “ring of fire” that others witnessed, will be able to say, “I once saw the sun become a crescent moon.”
But by then we’ll be so old that nobody will want to listen. Or, if they do, they will probably not take us seriously. That makes me sad.
Cherish those moments of awe, dear reader, and share them with the people you love. Nothing else matters.
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