My inner science geek was SO looking forward to the eclipse. The forecast kept wavering between cloudy and sunny - and when it happened, if you were in the Kansas City area, it was a crapshoot as to whether or not you got to see it between gaps in the clouds.
We were up north a ways - and got to see just a few tantalizing glimpses of the eclipse through the clouds. One of the moments was when the sun's corona looks like a diamond ring - if I had had to pick a one, that would have been it.
I was SO disappointed we weren't able to see more of it.
But.
Because I couldn't see the sun and moon in the sky, I focused on all the other signs of the eclipse around us. I saw a sunset in the south, and the light took on an eerie quality I've never seen before. The bugs and birds went to ground, just like I was told they would. The wind stilled, the temperature dropped, and the sky darkened for the shortest night ever.
If I'd have been able to see the sky, I can promise you my attention would have been totally focused there, and I'd have missed all the other beauty of the moment.
Once again the Universe took it upon itself to remind me to look always for beauty; if I look, I will see it. The beauty I saw was not the beauty I'd sought, but the beauty I saw was still able to capture the wonder of those otherworldly two minutes.
It's hard to let go of dreams, to accept less than an optimal experience.
I did my part. I was watching and waiting and ready. If the Universe didn't deliver on her side, well, at least I was there and ready and open to see whatever there was to see.
What there was there I will long remember.
And who knows, perhaps I'll get another chance.
There's always 2024...
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