I was on my home way last night from a regular supermarket trip, when I glanced out of the taxi window. My stomach turned over. There was a beautifully low lit half moon in the sky. Why did my stomach flip? The previous evening when leaving the office, I had remarked to a colleague that the moon looked as if it was almost full. Yes, she replied, it would be full on April 4. The moon is important here, and we keep note of lunar phases. Most festivals are based on the lunar calendar and we are in the final days of run up into the biggest festival here – Thingyan, famously known as the Water Festival. I was puzzling about the status of the moon and its relation to Thingyan when I saw the almost full moon on Friday and in my mind I thought meant that it would probably be New Moon for Myanmar New Year which falls immediately after Thingyan.
So I was more than a little freaked by the sight of a half moon last night. Firstly, I questioned whether the moon had indeed been almost full when I had remarked on it the previous evening. The conversation with my colleague was fresh and clear in my mind. I knew the moon had looked full. Seeing something dramatically unexpected about the moon rocks our foundations and most basic beliefs and truths. My thoughts then moved to Murakami’s IQ84 where the parallel world had two moons. I did not want to take that train of thought any further and vowed to Google this weirdness as soon as I got home.
When I got out of the taxi, a couple of neighbours were lingering, chatting in the lane as happens most evenings. One pointed to the moon and showed me that he was taking a photograph on his phone. He knows that I am wont to take pictures of the moon and I thought he was suggesting I photograph it. I obligingly (I would have been doing this anyway) took out my camera and captured a few images, while staring at the moon and pondering the mystery of its sudden regression or progression to half moon status. It was so clear in the sky and I could see the shadow of the other half of the moon quite clearly when realisation hit. This was not a half moon shadow, because the moon had a “bite” out of it! This was a lunar eclipse!
I watched as the shadow passed across the moon, the orange glow faded and the full moon I had sought appeared gradually again. I remember seeing pictures of the solar eclipse recently, and delighted for friends who had seen their first eclipse, posting their awe on Facebook. This was not visible in South East Asia, but I admit to being secretly envious. There was a total eclipse on my birthday in 2008 but I could hardly see it because of cloud cover as I waited patiently on the rooftop of the apartment block I lived in at the time in Colombo, Sri Lanka,, taking photographs of cloud and trying to convince myself that I could see a shadow. And apart from the tail end of a solar eclipse in Myanmar in 2010 which I could not really see properly I have never truly seen either a solar or lunar eclipse.
I was quite delighted to have seen my surprise lunar eclipse. There had been no anticipation and with the lack of planning and expectation there could only be satisfaction. If we put this in perspective, this has more meaning than just a fifty-something woman seeing her first clear eclipse. If you look at my wish bucket it is pretty clear that I have a fascination with the night sky. I want to see the rings on Saturn, and I would dearly love to witness the Aurora Borealis or Northern Lights. I was fascinated by the night sky as a child and still love to gaze upwards in innocent wonder. That is very clear too, in the second of my three words of the year too – breathe, stargaze and realise. How apt that just after writing about breathing a couple of weeks ago, and with a vague plan to write about stargazing next, that the planets should align to gift me a lunar eclipse!
As I approach my next round of medical checks with some questions which I expect to be explored, and as life continues to throw challenges in my direction this is a timely and keen reminder that I need to strive to stargaze and stretch my creativity. Life is less about what happens to us, but how we deal with what happens to us. I must remember to breathe, to stargaze and to realise.