the eclipse framed by trees with a person looking up barely visible in the darkness

What Olivia Rodrigo’s Concert and the Eclipse Have (and Don’t Have) in Common

On Saturday night, I took Marilee and two friends to see Olivia Rodrigo at Madison Square Garden.

On Monday, I lay on a dock on a lake in the Adirondacks and saw a total eclipse.

Although both could be predicted to the minute—we knew Olivia would start performing at 8:32, and that the totality would begin at 3:24—there was also something wildly uncertain about the eclipse. We could not predict or control the weather, the clouds, the ways our bodies would respond, the way the light would change.

Seeing Olivia was entertaining and spectacular. It was filled with pent-up teenage girl emotion. She floated around the stadium on a crescent moon. She lay atop a bed and sang. She danced and stomped and jumped. We took dozens of photos and videos and could relive it as soon as it was over. And, if we had the time and the money, and the wherewithal, we could see essentially the same show at the next stop on the tour.

Seeing the eclipse was deeply beautiful. It was ephemeral. It was free. There was no way to capture it on film, no way to ever relive the moment. As Laurence Pevsner explains in Noema, every eclipse is different from the one before. Even the photographs taken from the highest-end camera cannot capture what a human eye sees when witnessing the moon covering the sun.

Moreover, the only reason we get total eclipses at all is because of a “complete cosmic coincidence.” Because the sun is 400 times larger than the moon AND 400 times further from the earth than the moon, when the moon passes across the sun, what we call a total eclipse happens. It’s like a tiny cosmic architectural detail, a gift of beauty and wonder and mystery and delight.

Seeing both Olivia and an eclipse within the span of a few days reminds me that I don’t want to chase the next entertaining phenomenon. I don’t need to pursue fads or keep up with trends. Watching the eclipse was like entering a thin place, a moment in time and space where heaven and earth kissed. I want to respond to the thin places, to seek out the deeper beauty. I want to live in expectation of quiet wonder that is entirely beyond my control.

a photo of the eclipse framed by trees and text overlay: "Watching the eclipse was like entering a thin place, a moment in time and space where heaven and earth kissed. I want to respond to the thin places, to seek out the deeper beauty."


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