A section of road we drive is exactly aligned east/west. During the equinoxes, we drive straight into the blinding sun rising due east and, in the evening, straight into the blinding sun setting due west. After the Spring Equinox, we are grateful as the rising and setting of the Sun moves north away from the road. After Summer Solstice, each night’s sunset moves back closer to the blinding glare around Fall Equinox. Then we become grateful again as the sunrise/sunset moves south away from the road. These seasonal movements are blindingly well-known to me.
This Great Pattern of our world: the northward migration of the points of sunrise and sunset at Winter Solstice to Summer Solstice, turning into the southward migration of sunrise and sunset as summer withdraws back to Winter Solstice. For thousands of years, people have created stationary points to stand surrounded with stones that mark the times for planting, the times for ceremony.
This winter, I was looking north towards snow-covered Mt. Shasta, glowing pink in the sunset. The winter light of the Sun was coming from the southwest. Therefore, the pink light of sunset was streaming northeast, illuminating much of the mountain’s south side which is the side I was seeing as I looked north. But in six months time, the sun would be setting in the northwest. What would the sunset on Mt. Shasta look like then?
I’d always thought of the seasonal movement of sunset in terms of the direction I look to see the setting sun. But there is also the opposite direction; the direction that the sunlight is coming from. I had never thought of that direction before. I’ve marked the Sun’s rising and setting with rocks many times and watched the change over the months. But it’s hard to compare the light that one sees now with a six-month old memory of the light back then. Placed rocks can’t capture that. But a camera can.
Spring Equinox – Sun setting in the west
Summer Solstice – Sun setting in the northwest
Autumn Equinox – Sun back setting in the west but less snow this time.
Snippets
Golden State Star Party
The evening of June 27th, I attended this star party out in a dark sky area near Bieber, CA. More than 300 amateur astronomers were there with their telescopes for the 4 night event. Light clouds drifted eastward at sunset but the sky cleared by 11. I approached the side of the main area and then turned into the main lane.
No light except the dim red lights of telescopic equipment. Around fifty people in quiet respectful standing or moving slowly amongst tall telescopes pointing upward, outward. I felt a profound resonance, like I was present within the lineage of Stonehenge. Thousands of years ago, people transported large stones hundreds of miles to raise at Stonehenge to better record and know the stars and the changes through the year. Now, people are transporting large telescopes (largest was 28”, many home-made) hundreds of miles to this spot to better see and know the universe we live within. The technology and understanding was thousands of years more advanced than Stonehenge but the spirit to connect oneself to the greater whole still thrives and vibrates through the millennia.
I spent much of my time with the builder of an 18” telescope who enjoyed sharing. With a click of his cursor, he could center his telescope on any deep sky object desired. All the images of galaxies I’ve ever seen have been photographs, able to capture light over many minutes. I did not realize that with a large telescope, I could see galaxies, their structure, their place in the sky. Profound.
Most of the telescopes were Dobsonian telescopes, named after John Dobson, a telescope maker and monk who wanted to help people see and understand the cosmos we live within. He developed and popularized large, inexpensive, portable, easy to use telescopes.
If this experience intrigues, do a search for Star Parties or Dark Sky Festivals (here’s a starting place). There are a lot of them throughout the country and the year.
Two Recommendations
Thirty or forty years ago, frustrated, I impulsively stopped at a hardware store in a small town I was driving through. “Is there any Phillips screwdriver that won’t strip itself after a few years?” Within seconds, the man held a bluish-green handled Phillips screwdriver. I bought it, dubious but hopeful. Thirty or forty years later, it’s still as good as new. SK Professional Tools
This last year, I’ve worn out lots of socks. Time to buy more. Then I realized that most of the socks that got holes in them I had thrown away but there was one brand of socks that I kept because they were so comfortable even with holes in them. They had come as a Christmas gift from my wife or daughters. All I knew was they had an orange and gray toe and along the foot section, the word, Weatherproof, in orange. I’ve now bought more; I really like them.
Ken Homer
A pleasure as always to read your posts, Paul!
This one reminds me of an experience I had one summer afternoon about 20 year ago. I was sitting on my deck and gazing up at the Moon – I’m sure everyone reading this knows the moon is often visible in the afternoon. So, there I was casually gazing up at the moon when suddenly it hit me that I could just as easily be gazing DOWN at the Moon. My whole life the moon had been above me and it was most disconcerting to learn that it could just as easily be below me. If it were not for gravity, I could “fall into the Moon.”
Little shifts in perspective like these open up all kinds of previously hidden possibilities. I am always grateful when someone or something comes along and challenges me to abandon my habitual points of view and consider that things can always be viewed from another perspective.