The Humbling Awe of a Solar Eclipse
No true Pittsburgher should ever travel to Cleveland without good reason. Perhaps the occasional wedding or work trip may take you there, but anything short of this merits staying home. On most days, the lakeshore has nothing that can’t be found by our three rivers, and so a trip is mostly unnecessary.
The heavens, however, have decided to grace this distressed lesser city with a solar eclipse, and my family won’t be the only ones traveling west next weekend for the event. Millions of Americans from Texas to Maine will be blessed by the spectacle, calling off work and skipping school to catch the phenomenon live. Perhaps, by the time you’re finished reading this column, you’ll want to head west and join them, because I personally testify to you that a solar eclipse is one of the most awe-filling experiences a human being can ever encounter.
In 2008, I had the unique pleasure of spending the summer in China as a part of a cultural exchange program. The highlight of our trip was supposed to be a visit to the famed Terracotta Army located just outside of the historic capital city of Xi’an. The first emperor of China, when he died, was buried in a tomb guarded by a garrison of over 9,000 life-size clay statue soldiers. Each soldier is hand-crafted, painted, and outfitted differently -- no two are alike. Some soldiers were riding horses, driving chariots, or dancing as acrobats. The site is still being excavated, but since its rediscovery in 1974, many have declared the mausoleum and its guards to be “the eighth wonder of the world,” listed alongside the pyramids of Egypt, the Taj Mahal, and the Colosseum of Rome. They weren’t wrong - I can attest that the Terracotta Army is, indeed, a marvel.
This should have been the high point of our trip, but I was not prepared for what awaited me later that evening.
We had known that Xi’an was right on the path of totality during a solar eclipse, but none of us, American or Chinese, were sure what that meant. Curious to see what was to come, we finished our dinner and walked the large open plaza outside of Xi’an’s central train station. Thousands of other Chinese locals filled the square, and what happened next was astounding.
The moon completely blocked the sun at around quarter past six in the evening. Day turned to night. The stars came out. The summer heat dropped nearly 10 degrees. The street lights came on. The crowd gasped in awe. My jaw hung open. Night to day, evening to sunset, blue sky to stars -- the most fundamental rhythm of life had been completely upended before my very eyes. And just like that, three minutes later, everything returned to normal.
Much has been made of the ancient response to a solar eclipse, how primitive peoples shouted wildly or fired weapons in the air or played drums to scare away whatever force was big enough to swallow the sun whole. Anybody who would take our ancestors to task for such an unscientific response must have never experienced a solar eclipse. The narratives they assigned to the event weren’t accurate, but their response to the sheer awe of the event makes total sense. These cosmic forces make our greatest human achievements look like ant hills. The Terracotta soldiers, as impressive as they might be, are mud pies by comparison to what Dante famously called “the love that moves the sun and other stars.”
Next week’s solar eclipse is a cosmic event that believers in both sacred and secular can find to be holy and helpful. Psychologists call the feeling I experienced watching the eclipse “awe.” According to them, an experience of awe is good for the mind and heart. It gives us accurate feedback about our smallness in life, setting us in a proper relationship with nature and the wider cosmos. It is humbling in the best sense of the word, a reset button for those best by pride. It’s the same idea King David outlined a millennia ago when he penned these lyrics: “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?” In a time when we feel hyper-separated by politics, income, race, class, and sex, an event that will drive us all to awe is hard to come by. Fewer things are as effective at making you feel authentically and marvelously small as a solar eclipse.
For those who are able, take off work, take the kiddos out of school, and make the trip. Grab your NASA approved protective glasses, and maybe even make a picnic afternoon out of the event. Call up college friends and see if they have a spare spot on their couch. Cash in your credit card reward points for a hotel room. The totality of an eclipse and the awe that accompanies it is worth your time and travel.
Even if it means going to Cleveland.