April 8, 2024 Eclipse – Ft. Worth, Texas

A few weeks before the big celestial event, I paid for my plane ticket and arranged time off work to witness my first total solar eclipse. I’d never seen a total solar eclipse, but everyone says it’s always an exciting gamble on whether the skies will be clear enough to see. I felt privileged to have both the time and money to spare. I’m not much of a gambler, but as the Kenny Rogers song goes, sometimes you play your cards.

As I asked around, I heard many enthusiastic stories from those in my circle of acquaintances of their previous eclipse experiences. They found eclipses awe-inspiring and a risk worth taking. There was excitement, and listening closely, I noticed a mystical tone in their descriptions.

Astronomy enthusiast friends told me they’d reserved their hotel and flights to San Antonio, Texas, a year ago. I considered camping my way from Florida to Texas, but by the time I was making plans, all the parks were reserved to capacity for the event. I was lucky enough to receive an invitation to stay with friends of friends in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area.

Astronomy + Astrology

I joined a local Astronomy Club last year, a likely outgrowth of my time studying Astrology. After so much thought about the personal influence of the passing planets, it is interesting to view the planets, stars, and deep space as strictly parts of the physical universe. As the big April eclipse grew nearer, engaging in discussions that diverge significantly on the subject has been fun. Astrologers generally interpret eclipses and dimming the light as a time to slow down, disengage, and reflect. Rituals are not recommended. Astronomers deeply engage with any celestial event, recording an eclipse with all available telescopes and computer programs.

Others’ expressions of reverence in describing their eclipse experiences made me wonder how I might respond to seeing one. A work colleague who organizes star parties for anyone interested in looking at the planets scoffs at the suggestion that astrology is useful. I’ve pondered how to talk about astrology without triggering such ridicule. This attitude from others is familiar territory. As a teen, I braved complete strangers’ skepticism (and annoyance) while knocking on doors to share the good news about Jesus and his offer of salvation.

A self-professed “science” guy, my 80-year-old work friend sweetly and affectionately told me I was a “nut” because of my interest in astrology. A lack of tact in children and elders is generally cause for delight until it isn’t. I dressed him down, not for his physics argument, but for his poor etiquette. He responded with grace to my directness, and we became better friends. And I took his advice: “Don’t photograph your first eclipse; just enjoy it.”

Eclipse Day

My hosts, Chip and Richard, shared my desire for a simple, solitary eclipse experience. The day before and the day after the eclipse was cloudy and rainy. My prayers were answered when, on the morning of the eclipse, the sun broke through, bringing a hopeful mood to the morning coffee hour.

As the sun rose in the sky the clouds grew faint. We placed a blanket on the front lawn, put on our glasses, and enjoyed the entire hour-long experience. Watching the phases at the beginning and end of the total eclipse was awe-inspiring. The total eclipse for Dallas/Ft. Worth was only about 2:40 minutes compared to the 4 minutes of other cities. I’d wondered what it would be like to have only a few spectacular minutes of totality. But as it turned out, the hour-long gradual process of reaching totality and then watching the receding was completely satisfying.

By design, my first solar eclipse was a quiet affair. No festivals or music-filled parties. Just looking up at the beautiful event, lying on a quilt on the front lawn of my friend’s home. It was perfect. The rest of April, I was filled with intense joy. How did seeing the eclipse affect my feelings for the rest of the month? I’m writing this blog two months after the event as I notice slowly unfolding effects. The trip’s context represented my prayers answered at finding just the right circumstances. My host, Chip, and I had never met before. He is the best friend of a friend. During the brief three-day visit, we discovered we had much in common. Both 62, we shared freely with each other the intimate details of our lives. We’d overcome rejection and being rejected by organized religion as well as a lifetime of intensely painful family relationships. Chiron was conjunct with the sun in Aries during my visit with Chip. Discovered in 1977, Chiron is a small celestial body known as the “wounded healer” and is considered to represent our deepest emotional and spiritual wounds.

Since abandoning 40 years ago the Christianity of my youth, I’ve at times casually pondered the spiritual life I’d left behind. Are we primarily physical beings or are we also spirit beings? The Catholic thinker Pierre Teilhard de Chardin said, “We’re not human beings having a spiritual experience. We’re spiritual beings having a human experience”. 

Since 2021, Astrology has offered me useful tools and complex language for exploring spiritual life. Used for thousands of years by different cultures, I find it helpful in strengthening my faith in a benevolent, loving cosmos that reaches far beyond the turmoil of modern life. After years of anger and resentment, I feel a kinship with anyone who prays and tries to lead an ethical, spiritual life, regardless. Peace be on our country and our world.