As the only member of my immediate household looking up at the sky after 10:15 last night, I had the opportunity to let my mind wander as I watched the last sliver of the sun's direct light fade from the face of the moon. As that little crescent of light waned on the five o'clock corner of the moon's face, I noticed movement across the street. My neighbors were coming out to watch the spectacle. After a few pleasantries, we got down to deeper conversational topics.
One of the first things I brought up was the thought of humans more than 500 years ago seeing the same spectacle, but having no explanation for what they saw -- not knowing if the moon was burning out or what was happening. I imagined a long-ago shaman, seeing the image of a red moon in his or her mind ahead of time, and seeing a bonfire celebration underway as the light started to return. So when the red moon actually appeared in the sky, the shaman orders the village people to construct a huge bonfire. By the time it's lit and burning strongly, with all the people huddled around, looking fearfully at the moon, the eclipse starts tapering and the villagers shout and dance with joy, fulfilling the shaman's vision. But at the very least, our ancestors must have freaked out to some degree. It was disconcerting to me to see a red moon last night, and I was fully expecting it with complete scientific understanding of what was happening.
One of the first things I brought up was the thought of humans more than 500 years ago seeing the same spectacle, but having no explanation for what they saw -- not knowing if the moon was burning out or what was happening. I imagined a long-ago shaman, seeing the image of a red moon in his or her mind ahead of time, and seeing a bonfire celebration underway as the light started to return. So when the red moon actually appeared in the sky, the shaman orders the village people to construct a huge bonfire. By the time it's lit and burning strongly, with all the people huddled around, looking fearfully at the moon, the eclipse starts tapering and the villagers shout and dance with joy, fulfilling the shaman's vision. But at the very least, our ancestors must have freaked out to some degree. It was disconcerting to me to see a red moon last night, and I was fully expecting it with complete scientific understanding of what was happening.
Okay, not complete understanding. I don't have an explanation for why the sun slipped off the moon to the lower right (5:00 area) and came back on the moon around at the slightly lower left (8:00 area). Why not directly across at the top left (11:00)? I imagine it has to do with either my perspective on looking at the moon from the 44th parallel, or perhaps with the spin of Earth over the course of the eclipse -- the moon definitely changed position in the sky over the time it was red.
I started another conversational tangent with the question, "Do you think werewolves get apathetic during lunar eclipses? Like they stay furry, but they just can't bring themselves to chase and eat you." This, of course, led to a host of theories and peals of laughter over the proceeding five minutes.
But my neighbors headed back in leaving me alone with my thoughts again. So why are some of us so motivated to go out and see these lights in the sky as they flow through their cycles, and so especially motivated to watch when there are aberrations from the norm? What motivates one person to stay up late just to watch the moon, while another will only glance up before going to get a good night's sleep? Are these simply the decisions and moments that make us who we are?
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