Apothecary Shed

“There is no dark side in the moon really
Matter of fact, it’s all dark”

You are reminded in a visceral way that you are an animal. Not just any animal, but an animal on a small planet circling a minor star at the edge of one arm of an insignificant spiral galaxy. I mean, we all kind of know that intellectually. But when you experience totality first hand you come to know it in your bones. Actually, more in your skin. You come to know it in your skin.

Can your skin really know something? Why yes. Yes it can. Every hair on end as you look carefully at the backs of hands that may or may not be yours lit by the wrong wavelengths of light.

Or maybe this.  If you’ve ever experimented with psychedelics, the onset feeling is exactly the same. It’s an all natural trip.

When the last grain of sand drops through the hourglass, the plug is pulled and the magic water drains, you are left feeling a little empty and worn.

Anyway, it’s a thing.  And doing the thing on a boat in the middle of Lake Monroe in Indiana is a very good idea.

All that you touch
And all that you see
All that you taste
All you feel

It started way earlier than it could have, but it was worth seeing the sun rise and set on the same day that it was completely occluded.  Romey and I headed just around the long skinny bay to the state park to pick up our 26 foot pontoon.

The crew arrived—a collection of grad students and young adults from all over: Virginia, Turkey, Columbia, Chicago, India. It was early.

Safety first. A perfunctory boat lesson that imparted not much at all. The first lesson was far superior (and delivered by the guy who actually owns the boat).

We had most abundant and most excellent supplies.

We spotted a beaver, but then something even more rare.  Is Elyse really eating a pop tart? Here is photographic evidence.

Yes. It was a bit chilly.

A newbie captain learns to drive the boat! We headed down to the dam (and back).  Mom called to give some instructions from India.

And all that you loved
And all that you hate
All you distrust
All you save

After a stop to pick up our last passenger (who was inside the perimeter but still attached to a computer), we headed back out from the docks and to the less trafficked side of the bridge.  We passed another marina and headed toward the river, putting out an anchor after a short drift.

Lunch was served. That is, lunch that was brought by the able young crew: pasta salad with fresh mozerella and basil, focaccia, mortadella, humus. It was quite an up shift from the morning pop tarts.

There was even time for a dip before the sun was touched by the moon.

Of course there were Dark and Stormies on board. And of course the rum was particularly apt. We ran out.

And all that you give
And all that you deal
And all that you buy
Beg, borrow, or steal

The perfect shirt.

And then it was time. The eclipse began about an hour before totality.  My first mate looked the part.

We made pinhole cameras out of aluminum foil (once we determined how to pronounce that).

But most importantly, we experienced the event in a very present way. The magic really was magic.

And all you create
And all you destroy
And all that you do
And all that you say
And all that you eat
And everyone you meet

TOTALITY

Eli’s excellent musical curation was perfection itself.

Surrounded by sunrise. Let your life renew itself. Remember why you are here.

What words can’t describe, creepy accidental slow-mo can!

And all that you slight
And everyone you fight
And all that is now
And all that is gone
And all that’s to come
And everything under the sun is in tune
But the sun is eclipsed by the moon

One of these things…

Is not like the other.

We all come down. Lifetime high.  Something even a pop tart can’t fix.

Or can it?

It was an incredible day on the water. Five stars. Will do again.

And then we were back at home base, kindly provided by Rob and Katy.

First you are there.

Then you are not.

The sun set again over Lake Monroe and the day moved into night.