Annie Dillard went to see a total eclipse of the sun in 1979
and wrote about it in “
Total Eclipse,” published as part of her book,
Teaching a Stone to Talk. She speaks of
the terrifying nature of a total eclipse and says that “Seeing a partial
eclipse bears the same relation to seeing a total eclipse as kissing a man does
to marrying him.” She describes the eeriness of totality and the awe it
inspires. One can tell that, for her, it was a profoundly moving experience.
Then, in the last paragraphs she speaks of walking away from the hill on which
she and her husband had watched the eclipse.
“…when the total eclipse ended, an odd
thing happened.
When the sun appeared as a blinding
bead on the ring’s side, the eclipse was over. The black lens cover appeared
again, back-lighted, and slid away. At once the yellow light made the sky blue
again; the black lid dissolved and vanished. The real world began there. I
remember now: We all hurried away. We were born and bored at a stroke. We
rushed down the hill. We found our car; we saw the other people streaming down
the hillsides; we joined the highway traffic and drove away.
We never looked back. It was a general
vamoose, and an odd one, for when we left the hill, the sun was still partially
eclipsed—a sight rare enough, and one which, in itself, we would probably have
driven five hours to see. But enough is enough. One turns at last even from
glory itself with a sigh of relief. From the depths of mystery, and even from
the heights of splendor, we bounce back and hurry for the latitudes of home.”
The last two sentences of the article speak of more than
just her experience of the eclipse. Dillard is one who sees the world in all
its glory and has described it well for others in the books she has written. She
knows of mystery, splendor, and glory. She also knows that we humans do not
live in experiences of rapture forever. We spend most of our time in the
mundane world of home. “One turns at last even from glory itself with a sigh of
relief. From the depths of mystery, and even from the heights of splendor, we
bounce back and hurry for the latitudes of home.”
I am one who is fortunate to work at a job in which I am
paid to live in the world of glory, mystery and splendor. I get to interpret
God, the mysteries of the universe, and creation to a world that is weighed
down by expense records and balance sheets. Dillard says, “It can never be satisfied,
the mind, never…. the mind wants to know all the world, and all eternity, and
God. The mind’s sidekick, however, will settle for two eggs over easy.” Most of
us live in the day-to-day of eggs and jobs and marriages and kids. We only
briefly think about eclipses, theology, creation, and the mysteries of the
universe. We are too busy working for that next meal of “two eggs over easy.” Most
of the time, we are more comfortable in the world of eggs and expense records.
Then, occasionally, the sun is blotted out from the sky and we consider our
place in the world. Like ancients who believed that a wolf had bitten a chunk
out of the sun, we wonder at the complexities of our world and are reminded of
things we had not thought about for some time. We are faced with the size of
the moon relative to our earth and to our sun. We are reminded that our
universe is full of stars and moons and planets and things beyond this earth.
Suddenly the “two eggs over easy” seem insignificant considering the bigger
questions of how we got here and where we are headed. But it only lasts a
moment. The total eclipse is over and “From the depths of mystery, and even
from the heights of splendor, we bounce back and hurry for the latitudes of
home.”