Reflecting on the 2024 Total Solar Eclipse

Now that we're a week out from our shared once-in-a-lifetime event, I feel like I should have had more than enough time to collect my thoughts about the whole experience. But I'm beginning to think I'll never be able to sufficiently describe it all in words. If you were lucky enough to experience it, or perhaps have witnessed a total eclipse before, hopefully you'll understand what I mean.

I was fortunate enough to see a partial eclipse in 2017, but this was different. I was right in the center of the path of totality. The weeks leading up to the eclipse, I was obsessively focused on preparing to photograph it. Reading about solar filters, ordering one, realizing it was the wrong size, ordering another one, trying it out and dialing in my camera settings. It was constant excitement and anticipation; everyone was hyping up this event and I was going to capture it (if the weather I was checking every day permitted)!

As the day got closer though, I started to worry about pulling off the images of totality. It isn't something you can exactly practice for. I was only going to have just shy of four minutes to nail the settings, set my camera going, and hopefully have some time left over to take it in myself. What if I didn't manage it? Or worse, what if it didn't live up to the hype?

Eclipse Day

The day finally came. I had put in for a half day at work so that I could get home in time to set up. Luckily enough my wife was home working that day, so we would be able to share the experience.

I hauled out my equipment, set everything up, and then we waited. Over time more and more people started coming outside at our apartment complex. We gave away extra pairs of glasses to anyone that was short a few. Some people would end up stopping by throughout the afternoon to quickly chat about our setup. There was a refreshingly warm sense of community, that we were all on this ride together.

Eventually, the Moon joined the party. My wife spotted it first, a good minute before I had. I set my camera going and we hung out, occasionally checking in on how the "cookie bite" was progressing. Everything was proceeding in a manner that felt very routine.

As time went on, we could feel the temperature dropping, commenting a few times on how it was almost chilly. Not too long later, I noticed the buildings in our complex looked off. The ambient light was decreasing, and it almost felt like a lighting error in a video game. Then came the animals; birds were noticeably rushing off as if they were late, the insects fell silent.

Among the gasps and murmurs around us, I scrambled to adjust the camera, eventually realizing I hadn't removed the solar filter. I eventually got it where I wanted it with plenty of time left to see it for myself.

And there it was.

Reflecting

I really don't know if I can describe it. I've never experienced that level of extreme awareness and connection to the world around me. I was intensely aware of the fact that I was sat on the side of the immense mass that is our planet, and yet how small and insignificant we all were. This wasn't something scheduled, there was no planning committee, it just was.

That might sound extremely doom and gloom, but in the week since April 8, I think it's been the exact opposite. I've felt a weird mixture of things. There's been almost nihilistic, blissful feelings that I don't need to be worrying about things to the extremes that I'm prone to. And there's been some intense desire to work for and achieve things that bring me enjoyment or fulfillment; I get the privilege of being here now, why wouldn't I make the most of it?

If you weren't able to catch the eclipse, I greatly urge you to try and catch one if you ever get the chance. If not, I at least hope you'll do what you can to really enjoy your time here, and maybe even help those around you do the same.