Living in New York City for over twenty years, I’ve almost forgotten the smell, taste, and feel of darkness. Where I grew up in Ohio’s Amish country, darkness took on seasonal aromas: honeysuckle in the spring, fresh manure in the summer, wet leaves in the fall, and woodsmoke rising from fireplace chimneys in the winter. Warm, hot, cool, or cold, the velvety touch of darkness can be a powerful catalyst for change.
Last Monday, I had the privilege to witness darkness in the mid-afternoon due to the total solar eclipse. As the Moon passed between the Sun and the Earth for over three minutes of totality, everything became dark and cool. While the Canadian geese nestled silently, close together by the pond at the Servants of Mary in Windsor, Ohio, the beads of the Holy Rosary that surround the mosaic statute of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the world’s tallest statue of the Holy Mother, added luminosity to this celestial event.
I chose this location, in the middle of nowhere, where I grew up, to escape the crowds and enjoy the peace of liminal time with family.
And it was Awesome!
Seeing More Than Before
This trip home was also a vacation with my husband’s family. Visiting Ohio for the first time, his siblings peppered me with questions. Seeing my hometown through their eyes, I began noticing things I had seen but did not appreciate the significance of growing up wrapped in the natural world. For example, last Wednesday, we spent the morning exploring the Nature Center at Shaker Lakes.
Dew Drops
While warm air holds water vapor, cold air causes water to condense, forming dew drops. These tiny worlds, which sit atop blades of grass and leaves of trees, activate photosynthesis, creating all of the energy that fuels the sources of our food chain. Sure, this is fourth-grade science stuff, but it's easy to take morning dew for granted when it's not easily accessible in an urban environment. In its unique way, dew is an invitation to be present in the moment rather than preoccupied with the past or future.
Deer
Native American shamans believe that a deer is a spirit guide when it appears in your life. Seeing the deer with its head obscured by the brush reminded me of Larry Littlebird’s beautiful book Hunting Sacred Everything Listens: A Pueblo Indian Man’s Oral Tradition Legacy. In prose and poetry, Littlebird reflects the world as it is—there is no separation between humans and the natural world.
The early morning, all around me. The movement of all things. The movement of everything I am.
For a long moment, the deer and I stood still. Our eyes were drinking in the presence of the other. Satisfied I was not a threat, the deer folded its legs beneath its body and settled in for a conversation. As the Red-winged Blackbirds gossipped in the background, Littlebird whispered his words, which he had planted as seeds in my subconscious many years ago.
Glorious sound fills my ears, echoing in my pulsing blood heartbeat. I-am-song moving evenly across this land, Creation relations, relatives all: plant, insect, winged creatures, two-legged, four-legged, smooth and rough, furred and scaly beings, seeds, grasses, trees, shurbs, flowers, and fruit; Plantings of a God Almighty.
With gentleness and grace, the deer cleans its tawny coat. Yet, the deer is careful to keep its head behind the screen of branches with budding yellow flowers, like the screen in a church confessional. It is my confessor and teacher.
The Four-Leaf Clover
According to The Weather Network, the odds of finding a four-leaf clover on your first try are 1 in 10,000. As we left the Nature Center, my husband looked down at the ground and spotted one in a clover patch near the exit.
I feel fortunate and grateful for the inspirational experiences of the Solar Eclipse 2024. It was a powerful catalyst for reframing how I see the world.
I look forward to building on these energies with you in the months ahead!
What was your experience? Please share your comments below.