Photography And Half-Thoughts By Mitchell Hegman

...because some of it is pretty and some of it is not.

Monday, August 19, 2019

Journal Entry: January 20, 2000 (Lunar Eclipse)


I stood outside in the cold snow below migrant clouds scissoring random stars from the broad dome of night so I could watch the shadow of our blue planet eclipse the Moon.  Our shadow swallowed the luminary whole, albeit scrupulously.  No malice.  No turning aside.  The Moon vanished as if a shiny coin dropped inside a black purse.  Nearby, unconcerned, Orion lounged half-aslant, as if reclining with one elbow against a sofa.  This, I thought, is the way in which all new centuries, all new millennia should begin.
Once the last sliver of Moon withdrew, questions fell upon me.   What is the meaning of me?  Why am I here, in particular, to witness this?  Why are we cruel as children and mature men, but soft in-between?  Why must the order that sends all things marching be that of decline?  Where goes the light that escapes beyond our reach?  Why do the coyotes cry from the soft hills?  And on.
Something ancient and grand accessed me as I stood out in the imposed darkness.  Not any profound understanding of place and time.  Not an epiphany come religious.  Just a sense of certainty that I am at least a speck of something big: a blade of grass, upright, splitting the wind, a stone to shape the flow a spring’s water.  In the absence of moonlight, the smaller luminaries grew brighter.  To the west, the lights in the city of Helena came full, enkindling a warm and golden secondary glow in the low clouds easing down from the mountains.  The coyotes fell silent.  All things marshaled together in just one moment of awe.  All things caught up in these celestial clockworks.  The sun going this way.  The Moon going there.  Our small planet stuck in the center.  Our own atoms swashbuckling just below the skin.  Yet...all singular in experience for a moment.
Clouds crossed over.  The Moon slowly sliced a bright slit in the darkness above, emerging from the far side of shadow.  The moment gone.  The darkness of night never quite solid.  The attentive stars pinpricked at me as I trudged back inside my house to resume normal life.
—Mitchell Hegman

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