There’s little wonder why the ancients were in a state of shock and panic during a total solar eclipse. Many cultures feared the “end of times” or some other impending catastrophe during an eclipse.
When I experienced this phenomenon in Montreal April 8, I felt a range of emotions, some of which were difficult to identify. There were goosebumps, a feeling of apprehension, but most of all an overwhelming sense of awe witnessing the disappearance of the sun in a drawn-out, surreal fashion.
Indigenous peoples, including the Cree, have many legends surrounding an eclipse. As Eastmain’s Jamie Moses recounted to APTN, his grandfather told him a story of how Chikabesh once snared the sun. “It could have been an eclipse at that time,” Moses said. “That is a reference of some people relating to the eclipse of having nighttime in the middle of the day.”
In ancient China, it was believed that a solar eclipse occurred when a celestial dragon devoured the sun. To frighten away the dragon and save the sun, people would bang drums and make loud noises during an eclipse.
According to Choctaw legend, an eclipse is caused by a mischievous black squirrel that gnaws on the sun. Like the Chinese dragon, the squirrel must be chased away by people yelling and making a ruckus.
For myself, during the complete eclipse, when we could look at the sky with the naked eye, it was almost an out-of-body sensation. One that I had never lived before, and one which I likely never will again. The gradual dimming of light before a sudden darkness and a precipitous drop in temperature during what had been a warm and sunny early spring day. Most of all, the brief but stupendous beauty of the ring of light around a circle of black where the sun should appear.
Just like the ancient Chinese or Choctaw rituals, people instinctively cheered and yelled together during the complete blocking out of the sun.
Of course, I understand what happened on an intellectual level. The moon’s orbit coincided with our planet’s route around the sun, momentarily blocking the light and warmth of our star. That matter-of-fact description makes it sound banal.
But it wasn’t. And I wasn’t prepared for the impact it had. There was something elemental and even terrifying, a realization that we are ultimately at the mercy of natural powers far beyond our ability to control. As well, that we exist thanks to an unimaginably tiny level of chance based on the earth’s perfect distance from the sun.
We cannot live without the energy of the sun, and this energy also has the power to render this planet uninhabitable if we humans continue to degrade the atmosphere that protects us. It’s useful to remember this fact when our human vanity makes us mistakenly think we are beyond the power of nature.
Almost everyone else I know who donned the glasses that looked like those we received at 3-D movies years ago reported similar powerful reactions.
And that, a common experience that was close to universal among the millions of people in the path of the eclipse across our hemisphere, is one element of this event that will last in my memory. There are precious few moments now that we all experience in the same way, at the same time. These days, we are so segregated in our own realities – political, cultural, linguistic, among so many others – that we may as well live on different planets.
It’s what used to be called a water cooler moment. When a person in an office encountered a colleague and relived an experience that they had both shared even though they hadn’t been together during the event.
If only it would help us realize how fragile life is on this planet – and that we don’t have the power to control nature, only destroy it.