Eclipse

April 6, 2015

Greetings from beneath the umbral,

When I set off on the first few steps I was grumbling a little about the frost on the ground, wondering where spring slipped away to.  Like countless other mornings, I knew the run would transform me with whatever was waiting in the morning, and all I had to be was patient.  I had no plan about where I was going to run, just let the road wander in front of me.  Within a few minutes I was warm enough to have forgotten the chill, and was carried off.

I looked down where my feet flashed in and out of view near the shoulder and watched the familiar companion stretch out in front of me.  The white line.  I tracked my steps along the inside edge, the margin of the road, and began the chase.

I looked up, no longer thinking about where I was going, my legs cruising now, following the white line’s direction.  Off in the west the full moon was bold in the inky canvas.  It had cleared the sky around it, not willing to share the space while it prepared for a dramatic presentation. 

The white line broke at the corner, and I saw it carry on to the left, urging me to come after it.  “Here, over here, follow me, this way..”  I leaned at the corner and turned into the darker lane, cloaked with trees, and the sky disappeared for a while.  I watched the line, barely visible in the dimness, speeding ahead of me, teasing me to catch up. 

I ran after it and caught the end of it at the next corner and saw it was already headed west again, an unrelenting training partner.  I paused for a moment and then set off after it.  Arms and legs working, weaving a few inches off the white line, running harder now to catch it as it unrolled ahead of me.

I turned into the open space and looked up and saw what the moon had been preparing.  On the left edge of the lunar disk a shadow formed.  I watched for a moment, smiling up at the work of art.

Running along, I glanced down again at the road and for a fraction I had this image that I was propelling the planet’s rotation.  As if with each step, my legs were pushing the globe toward sunrise.  The white line laughed.  The moon vanished again behind the trees, and I was left with my lineal challenger, romping in front of me up an incline, no sign of fatigue as it crested the hill and disappeared.  I struggled after it. 

The moon moved back into view, more demanding now, shimmering for attention.  The shadow was more distinct, a fourth of the circle clipped off in darkness.  This planet, this marble that I spun with each step along the white line, whirled into its place in the choreography.  Behind me, still out of sight, the sun contributed its part, and the drama unfolded. 

I glanced down for a moment, tight-roping along the white line, now casting just the faintest shadow of my own.  Tapping on the pavement, the only other noise in the morning beyond the few birds that were up to cheer on the moon.  The line unspooled in front of me, calling back, relentless and insistent;  Follow me.  This way.  Over this hill.  Turn right here.

And brought me to this perfect place.  For a heartbeat I was in orbit.  I was inches from the surface of the planet, gliding just above the white line, held in place between the earth and moon, for a fraction of a second my shadow eclipsing this small space I occupy over the earth.

When I look up at the night sky and see the array there, I often think of it as an adornment, hung there for me to admire, to inspire awe. Beautiful, intricate and mysterious.  It is easy for me, running gravity bound, looking for inspiration in a morning adventure, to forget what I am really seeing.

I stopped for a moment, both feet on the ground, and straddled the white line, looking up at the moon disappearing behind the earth’s shadow.  I read once that the moon is traveling at 2400 miles per hour around the earth, and we are flying at 67,000 miles per hour around the sun.  That seemed impossible, as I watched the shadow inch its way, slowly devouring the silvery white. 

I could see what was happening, sense the reality of the light and shadow, now fully aware of the players in the drama.  I felt my skin shiver with the revelation.  The eclipse allows you to understand the relationship between the planets around you and that gives you this tiny glimpse into the rest of the solar system.  And the galaxy.  And the universe. 

I stood there feeling my heart pounding, feeling the muscles in my body trembling from the effort, aware of my own breath in my ears.  The stripe at my feet mocked me to move and I answered.  I ran up the rise to my street and turned off, waved goodbye to the white line, and headed for home.  The moon slowly dipped into the rose horizon, scalloped in half by the grey shadow. 

The moon will move into some other place in the sky, show a fragment of its shape for a while until the next confluence brings back the drama.  But tomorrow the line will still be there, persistent, knowing I’ll respond, ready for it to lead me to some other adventure. 

 Hope this finds you going after it,

David

Copyright © 2015 David Smith