Said a woman returning from what is my sunrise vantage point.
My answer: "Maybe after the eclipse, there's more interest in the sun."
I don't really believe that, but I'd like to think it's true! I think it's funny that there might be something abnormal about a group of 8. Why isn't there a throng every morning? Why isn't the prospect of a peak aesthetic and spiritual experience drawing the citizenry out to the lakefront in droves every morning?
The eclipse had a now-or-never aspect. Chance of a lifetime! With a sunrise, there's always the next one and the next. It's everyday and humdrum. Normal. And yet, any day might be the most beautiful of all of the sunrises. You'll miss that one. Is that normal?
But people keep asking me to describe my reaction to the solar eclipse. I know I haven’t done that yet. So let me just quote what I texted shortly after I saw it. This is written spontaneously: "it’s weird to have a planned emotional experience. i prefer spontaneity. but I’m glad I saw it. It was surprisingly flat and obvious. It also had a little red dot i wasn’t expecting… makes me think of an old song with a line something like 'just then a tiny little dot'... i found it matter of fact. it was exactly what we were told it would be. there was no element of real fear. and it looked like the photos. i thought the corona might be more exciting, more pulsating and variable. But other than the red dot, it was just a pretty stable ring of light."
Here I am just before the totality relieved me of the requirement to wear the goofy glasses:
Kinda like a cloud, I was up, way up in the skyAnd I was feeling some feelings you wouldn't believeSometimes I don't believe them myselfAnd I decided I was never coming downJust then, a tiny little dotCaught my eye, it was just about too small to seeBut I watched it way too longIt was pulling me down
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What is normal depends so much on the population you are sampling. I loved the progressive blue and dim shift coincident with a light breeze and temperature drop during the partial giving the atmosphere a look of old color home movies.
The totality looked very dynamic and alive to me. Nothing like the photos. I didn't have an emotional reaction. The exact opposite. The only way to describe it is what they call ego death similar to what happens tripping balls on shrooms.
"It was surprisingly flat and obvious. It also had a little red dot i wasn’t expecting…. i thought the corona might be more exciting, more pulsating and variable. But other than the red dot, it was just a pretty stable ring of light."
It's too bad you didn't have binoculars. There were a lot of those hot pink dots, in various shapes, and there was some dynamism to them. The one you saw naked eye was just the largest. And a lot of structure in the corona although, as you say, it is static on the timeframe of 4 minutes.
The little red dot was a solar prominence. It's a colossal flare on the surface of the sun. I didn't see any during the 2017 eclipse, but we're very close to the maximum activity point of the sun's 11 year cycle this time. So that was exciting.
A lot of the dynamism of an eclipse comes from the last couple of seconds leading up to totality, and the couple of seconds after totality ends, when the sun's photosphere is peaking through the mountain valleys on the lunar limb.
"It's too bad you didn't have binoculars"
Do not mourn for us. We had binoculars — 2 pairs.
But other than the red dot, it was just a pretty stable ring of light.
You mean to say that the photographs of eclipses are 99.999999999% like your naked eyes? I've got to get me one of those 'soul stealer' cameras now.
"Do not mourn for us. We had binoculars — 2 pairs."
Good! Did you see the multitude of little hot pink prominences, especially along the trailing edge (from 6:00 up through 2:00)? They were not visible at the beginning of totality, but sprouted all along that edge near the end. I'm guessing they were there all along, but covered by the moon at the beginning of totality. Near the end, they were revealed as the moon pulled away.
"The little red dot was a solar prominence. It's a colossal flare on the surface of the sun. I didn't see any during the 2017 eclipse, but we're very close to the maximum activity point of the sun's 11 year cycle this time. So that was exciting."
There were prominences in 2017, but there were many more this time.
"The little red dot was a solar prominence. It's a colossal flare on the surface of the sun. I didn't see any during the 2017 eclipse, but we're very close to the maximum activity point of the sun's 11 year cycle this time. So that was exciting."
There were prominences in 2017, but there were many more this time.
And yet, any day might be the most beautiful of all of the sunrises. You'll miss that one. Is that normal?
Not normal at all, so why I appreciate you doing it for us normals…
I know it's impossible to hold an airplane stable when looking at a total eclipse overhead through a bubble sextant (for eye protection, it has the right filters). 1970 eclipse. So you get only very brief glimpses - restore airplane, search for sun again in sextant, repeat. There wasn't much of an impression of anything about the eclipse owing to the difficulty.
Today was the warmest morning in a long time. That might have something to do with the extra people.
The birds stopped singing because that's they way they are hard-wired. This gave everything a rather eerie feel, which we attributed to the light (ever seen a thunderstorm?) or the rarity (one of 25,000 unique days in your life!). But it was just a little weirdness with the birds in the middle of the day, which our brains registered as "Huh. Something seems strange. I'll bet it's a some peak religious experience."
And they say Christians are mystical...
I brow beat the kids into taking the day, with the grandkids, to witness totality. One family was able to, the other was 10 days into a brand new job, with a brand new skill set. The determined Setting first impression expectations was in their best interest.
Parents, Grandparents, and kids all shared the experience of the eclipse. One of our best shared activities. Beat the hell out of 3 days at Disney, (for Grandma a Grandpa anyway)
Needed more drama?
Animals probably find it more exciting. They don't listen to the news, or tell time. The sun is there one moment, gone the next. Wow, what's going on? Woof Woof. Although, i'd expect in real life Animals didn't react at all.
Speaking of flat, most people (especially liberals) have flat, or smooth, brains.
And that's why this country is fucked.
The top two percent are doing all the heavy lifting...
What kind of object is the sun? - it is the brightest object in the world.
YES, brilliant to such a degree! We have just seen it.
It takes a whole orchestra: drums, bugles, fifes, tubas. And the tambourines and the tympani.
All that to voice a single monosyllable. A single ononmatopoeic monosyllable.
The sun cannot be replaced by any logical formula, FOR the sun is not an object. THE BRIGHTEST of all objects in the world is - consequently - NOT - _is not_ an object; it is a void, the metaphysical abyss; the formal and indispensable condition of everything in the world. The condition of all other objects.
The condition of sight itself.
And this is what makes it atrocious. Really the last word in bad taste!
What leaves us really unsatisfied, and prevents us from adoring it: The sine qua non condition of everything in the world is revealed in it, imposed by it, appears in it.
It has the effrontery to show itself!
What's more, it reveals itself in such a way that it forbids you from looking at it, that it turns your eyes back into your body!
Really, what a tyrant!
Not only does it force us to be, I will later say under what conditions - but it forces us to contemplate it - and it nevertheless prevents us from staring at it.
YES and NO!
It is a tyrant and an artist, a fireworks specialist, an actor!
- Francis Ponge "Reading the Sun on the Radio"
I saw a total solar eclipse in 1963, from Mt. Desert (pronounced "dessert") in Bar Harbor, Maine. It was a wonderful experience. I remember it clearly to this day. I remember it so well that I had no need to drive several hundred miles from where I live to the path of totality of this week's eclipse. "Once in a lifetime" works fine for me. I hope those who did experience this eclipse got as much out of the experience as I did 61 years ago.
Althouse, you look happy in that photo. It's kind of fun to think of you toddling around the Midwest in a Camper, sightseeing, with no particular goal in mind, but whatever you happen to discover----you did say something about anti-bucket list.
Exploration, Discovery = Bucket List, kind of.
I must confess, I'm over the eclipse, hopefully won't have to hear about it till whenever. Actually, if I never see, or hear, about another eclipse, I will survive. Completely intrigued about this Camper, and the idea of "seeing the USA in your Chevrolet", you are basically doing what everybody has always dreamed of doing.
The discipline of seeing the sunrise every day must be - nope, it need not be anything I think it is. Far be it from me to impute my meaning to that choice.
I would imagine that if I were undertaking that discipline I would find it both satisfying and oppressive, like any other positive routine I follow, with the bonus of sometimes seeing something transcendent. I might be worried about getting jaded, but maybe one comes through the other side of that with enough exposure.
I think I actually make (mostly unconscious) choices to avoid exposing myself to something that might sometimes be especially beautiful or awe-inspiring every day, for fear of disappointment. That way, when beauty and awefulness break out, the experience is also a surprise, on top of everything else.
It wasn't my idea to go to the path of totality; we had cousins in town who told us months ago they'd be coming for it and would love for us to join them, so we did - and the forecast where we were was for 90% overcast, so I had no expectations. When the clouds opened at totality, it was beautiful, awe-inspiring at least in the sense of witnessing a rarity, and a happy accident. I feel that, for me, the accidental nature of those there and a half minutes added to my appreciation of them.
Actually, since totality was only a couple of hours from us, I suppose we would've gone anyway, but we wouldn't have made a weekend on it. That way, worst case would have been - as I fully expected it to be - two hours out and two hours back for a big dimmer switch. Still interesting, but not what we actually got.
Big fan of serendipity, and, related, very protective of my fragile hopes, that's me.
Or maybe because Bill Gates and other mad scientists want to block the sun...there's a little or interest.
But I'd imagine in Madison, WI...if someone told them it would stop "global warming" they'd be all for it.
Next total solar eclipse is in 40 years. I'd be 95. Probably be in heaven by then or working my way out of purgatory.
I wonder if you still have to look at the eclipse with special glasses or a welding shield from the other side...
I have always been a morning runner and before I retired, that meant getting up early to run and it didn't matter when the sun rose - but with retirement I tend to rise at 6 (which seems very reasonable). Around this time of year I always think I will try to continue to be up and outside at sunrise - but dang it starts hitting that 5:30 time and I give up - I just don't want to go to bed that early.
The interest will last only for a short while.
I worked a research ship in the Hawaiian Islands. Had the 4-8 watch for like a year when we were out. I saw dozens of green flashes at sunrise. I would mention it to people who would then try to get up early. Problem is, the green flash requires no clouds on the horizon at the sunrise azimuth.
But it never failed that people would rise early once or twice even after warned. I saw them because it was my job to be up at that time. Sunset green flashes were common as well, but easy for the other watches and dayworkers to see them coming after dinner.
We made a weather-based change of plans on the morning of, and headed toward Bloomington, IN, to catch the eclipse. We found a spot about 60 miles NE of Vincennes, in a park on the White River in Spencer, IN. High marks to Hoosier hositality. Two German Shepards in a big fenced yard across the road from us did some barking during totality. Rather than being an annoyance, it felt like they were giving voice to the weirdness of those four minutes on behalf of all of nature.
I someday hope to run, serendipitously, into @rhhardin. He seems to be an interesting fellow with wide ranging interests. Maybe at Grandpa’s Cheese Barn.
That is an exceptionally beautiful sunrise picture!
Sure, the sun is up there every day shining like a happy idiot's smile, even behind the thickest clouds. And because it is there all day, every day, people get used to its presence and ignore it entirely. So it stops shining in its normal fashion for just a few minutes not everywhere but just in a few select locations on earth every few years, and suddenly everyone talks about it and gets excited.
A psychological term for stability being ignored is habituation. A brief variation in that stability can draw attention. But a return to stability causes a repeated habituation and again, stability gets ignored. The sun watchers will thin out over time.
Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon tells a story about such an affect upon Flitcraft, a successful man with a family, happy in his work. One day the guy is nearly struck by a falling girder from a construction site as he walks to lunch. He doesn't return to work or go home, and is not seen again by his family. Five years later the family hears rumors about a man who might be Flitcraft, and hire Spade to find him. Spade finds Flitcraft living a few towns over married and working again. Sam explains it by saying, "Life could be ended for him at random by a falling beam: he would change his life at random by simply going away.... He adjusted himself to beams falling, and then no more of them fell, and he adjusted himself to them not falling."
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