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Total Eclipse

Total Eclipse

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The temperature dropped.  Birds sang their roosting songs. And then, the sun went away. All that was left was a ring of fire. 

Our safety glasses came off, someone blasted “A Total Eclipse of the Heart,” and for almost four minutes we gaped in amazement at the darkened world, the weird twilight, our hilltop transformed.

I looked up and around, to the left and the right, marveled at the 360-degree “sunset.” I felt a shiver up my spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. And then, it was over. 

“This was the universe about which we have read so much and never before felt,” wrote Annie Dillard in an essay called “Total Eclipse,” “the universe as a clockwork of loose spheres, flung at stupefying, unauthorized speeds.”

I looked at my photos, none of which captured the corona, and there, glimmering in the lower right-hand corner of one, was a single white dot. It was the planet Venus — in the middle of an Indiana afternoon. 

Totality or Bust

Totality or Bust

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The idea was growing all week, fed by accounts of those who’d experienced a total eclipse in 2017 or earlier. It’s a lot different than 80 or 90 percent, they said. If you can drive to totality, do it.

And so we did, shoving off early Sunday, bound for Washington, Indiana, where the moon will completely block the sun — and where we have kind and accommodating relatives.

It’s totality or bust. Now let’s hope the clouds stay away. 

Saúde, Skål, Sláinte!

Saúde, Skål, Sláinte!

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It’s St. Patrick’s Day, time to wear green, play Irish music and offer toasts of good cheer. 

In Madeira, you won’t be drinking Guinness but poncha, which is made from sugar cane rum and either orange or lemon juice. It’s sweet and sour and a couple of them will make you forget your troubles. 

Since we’ve been drinking it with folks from Scandinavia, we’ve been saying “cheers!” or skål!” rather than the Portuguese “saúde!” 

But today we really should say, “sláinte!”

Effort and Ease

Effort and Ease

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I often get ideas in yoga class. Breaking my concentration to write them down seems most un-yogi-like, though, so I try to file them away to retrieve later. 

Last week the inspiration arrived during shavasana, the final, resting pose, when you spend a few minutes lying down and (at least for me) trying not to fall asleep. The teacher read us a passage about kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing ceramics with gold lacquer, celebrating the cracks rather than hiding them. Obvious post potential in that, but I’m saving it for another day.

Today I want to explore a suggestion I heard in class several weeks earlier: the need to balance effort and ease in each yoga pose. While some contortions seem more effortful than easy, I can see the wisdom in maintaining these two poles. If you’re slacking, pick it up. If you’re hurting, tone it down.

Some of us find it easier to slack, others to overdo. But neither attitude gets us where we want to be. To find freedom in movement requires attentiveness and relaxation, strength and flexibility, effort and ease.

Surely this isn’t just advice for yoga, but for life. 

Moon Landing

Moon Landing

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To continue with the theme of wonder, there is now a U.S. spacecraft on the moon for the first time since 1972. It landed Thursday on the lunar surface, near the south pole. 

The space craft was built and flown by a Texas-based company, Intuitive Machines, with NASA equipment on board. There were some tense moments at first due to issues with the craft’s navigation and communications systems. But those appear to be resolved and the robot lander, Odysseus, is now transmitting signals.

Surely it’s worth a song. I’m imagining this one set to the tune of Yusuf/Cat Steven’s Moon Shadow. 

We’re being treated to a moon landing, moon landing, moon landing. 

Leapin’ and hoppin’ with a moon landing, moon landing, moon landing.

And if we ever lose our way, tip our craft, botch our stay. 

And if we ever lose our way — let’s hope we can launch once more. 

Happy VaLENTine’s Day

Happy VaLENTine’s Day

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When Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day collide, you have an interesting day indeed. Ashes or chocolates? Fasting or feasting? Eternal rest or eternal love?

As a three-year-old I know would say, “What the heck?” 

But there are answers to these questions, a solution to this dilemma. 

Lent is part of Valentine’s. Not the other way around. 

Catching up on Taylor Swift

Catching up on Taylor Swift

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I’ve just spent more time than I meant to reading about Taylor Swift. I’m not exactly at the vanguard of popular culture, but the juggernaut that is Taylor + Travis, especially as we race toward Super Bowl Sunday, seemed like something I should know just a little bit about. 

This led me to watch a few music videos, do a little googling (there’s a Taylor Swift class at Harvard and, of course, she was Time‘s Person of the Year for 2023) and feel just a little more a part of the cultural zeitgeist. 

I’m still mostly in the dark about the superstar and her super-athlete boyfriend, but I’m curious enough that I may tune in on Sunday, if not for the football then for the celebrity dish.

(Photo: Patrick Smith/Getty)

Fourteen!

Fourteen!

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A Walker in the Suburbs turns 14 today! If it was growing up in England in the last century, it would be free to leave school forever and get a job. 

I learned this fact while reading a Washington Post article “Centenarians Tell Us What Matters Most.”  It strikes me this morning that the article’s subheads do a good job of explaining why I started A Walker in the Suburbs in 2010 and continue it still. 

Don’t neglect your education. Think positive. Keep reading. Keep moving. Do what you love. 

What started as an experiment during a snowstorm almost a decade and a half ago has become an essential part of my writing life. It keeps me learning and reading. It encourages positivity and perspective. And it certainly keeps me moving. 

Most of all, though, it gives me the chance to do what I love. But that’s just half the equation. The other half is what happens in the minds and hearts of the people reading it. I hope A Walker in the Suburbs brings you a bit of pleasure, too. 

(An old snapshot of the girls. I bet one of them was 14 in this photo.)

Land of the Living

Land of the Living

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Yesterday I spent a few minutes in Lala Land, courtesy of a dental procedure. This is not the Lala Land of tropical breezes and white-sand beaches. This is oblivion followed by someone saying, “It’s over. You can wake up now.” 

Nevertheless, I’m not one to turn my back on oblivion when I have the chance. In fact, I think oblivion is the perfect way to visit an oral surgeon’s office. 

Today I’m back in the Land of the Living. A cup of tea, a bowl of yogurt (still soft foods at this point) and no oblivion at all. I’ll take it. 

Still a Baby

Still a Baby

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The new year is no longer the shiny new penny that shows up from time to time in my change purse. It has dulled around the edges. But when I look at the days proportionately — 18 out of 366 — 2024 is still in its infancy. A resolution stands a chance with odds like that.

Which is why I trundled out to a yoga class at 8:30 on the coldest morning of the year yesterday. Not just for the stretching and the strengthening, but also for the meditative aspect of it. 

The trip was worth it. The class was small, and the instructor was experienced. She took us through a variety of poses and encouraged us to use our breath to get into and out of them. Studio lights were low, music was soft. When I left, the new year seemed young again. 

(Ah, to be as limber as a baby! Photo: CCC)