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Fun Stuff Metaphysical Connection

Metaphysical Connection: The Total Solar Eclipse

Monday, April 8th, brings us a special celestial event — a total solar eclipse, and one that will be visible in the United States. Some outlets are calling it the Great North American Eclipse because it is the only total solar eclipse in the 21st century that will be visible throughout the United States, Mexico, and Canada. This will also be the last total solar eclipse that can be seen from the contiguous United States until August 23, 2044. Many people are taking trips to be in the path of totality, which Memphis is just outside of. Eclipses of any kind are interesting events to watch, but they also have special spiritual meanings.

A solar eclipse is often thought of as a time of transformation. The movement of the moon between the Earth and the sun is something that does not happen often and spiritually is thought to catalyze change. The energy of a solar eclipse is believed to accelerate events, bringing to the surface issues that have been simmering and demanding attention and action.

Part of the eclipse’s properties of transformation come from the fact that the usual cycle and movement of the planets is somewhat disrupted. The obscuring of the sun’s light can symbolize a break in routine. Disruptions are often unwanted and sometimes unpleasant, but they are necessary for growth. If you are familiar with tarot, this total solar eclipse might make you think of the Tower card with its disruptions and truth coming to light.

In astrology, a solar eclipse is sometimes viewed as a powerful time for new beginnings. The eclipse is seen as a doorway to significant life changes, offering opportunities to reset, rethink, and start fresh. The blocking of the sun, a symbol of light and clarity, invites introspection and encourages individuals to look inward, reassess their paths, and make substantial changes.

Venus, the planet of love, along with the sun and moon, helps usher in incredibly positive energies during this eclipse. The April 8th total solar eclipse occurs in the sign of Aries, with the asteroid Chiron in Aries as well. Aries is the sign of fresh starts, leadership, innovation, and courage. As such, you can expect this eclipse to have a particularly strong impact on those areas of your personal life.

Chiron symbolizes the “wounded healer,” exposing our deep pain, how we address that pain, and how our own healing powers have the ability to help others. Chiron symbolizes the strength of vulnerability, encouraging us to embrace the dark and thorny spaces of our past and take action. With Chiron in action, this eclipse is also about healing your relationship with yourself. Now is the time to recover from old wounds and explore new opportunities. Luckily, the April 8th eclipse should have an empowering effect in this regard. You could feel like you can take charge of your life in ways you didn’t previously think possible.

A solar eclipse is considered a powerful time for setting new intentions and manifesting goals. The energy of an eclipse can amplify your thoughts and intentions, making it an ideal time to focus on what you truly desire.

This total solar eclipse is also a great time to reflect and release those things that no longer serve you. The darkness of the solar eclipse encourages introspection. It’s a time to pause and reflect on one’s life direction, contemplate deep desires, and acknowledge aspects of life that may need transformation. Meditation or mindfulness practices during this time can lead to deep insights and heightened self-awareness. It is a moment to ponder life’s big questions, reassess your life path, and gain clarity on your personal and spiritual journey. You can use this time to consciously release these old aspects of your life. This could involve a physical decluttering of your space, a symbolic letting go of past grievances, or a commitment to change unhelpful thought patterns.

Even if you aren’t interested in the spiritual meaning of this eclipse, it is a wondrous event to behold and I encourage you to make the most of it.

Emily Guenther is a co-owner of The Broom Closet metaphysical shop. She is a Memphis native, professional tarot reader, ordained Pagan clergy, and dog mom.

Categories
Letter From The Editor Opinion

Experiencing Totality

Editor’s note: Other writers may occasionally share this space.
This piece was originally published in the Flyer in August 2017.

You can’t prepare for magnificence — not really. Months ago, I blocked off August 21st on my Outlook calendar — “TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE” — knowing that Something Was Going to Happen, and that I needed to put myself in its path.

I remember as a child spinning a globe, lightly tracing the sphere with a fingertip as it slowed, hoping to rest on a city with an entrancing name where I might one day travel. My strategy for picking an eclipse-viewing location was not terrifically more sophisticated. I looked at the path of totality on a map and picked the town within a day’s drive with the most entrancing name: Cadiz, near the southwest corner of Kentucky.

In search of a singular experience, I didn’t want to be in a crush of people, a crowd of awestruck gaspers all wearing our cardboard ISO-certified glasses. And the name — Cadiz, after the ancient Andalusian city in Spain — resonated in my mind, sufficient mysticism right there in Kentucky, 196 miles from my front door.

My eclipse companion and I never made it to Cadiz. We didn’t need to. Close to our planned destination, we crossed a long, gracefully arching bridge over the “lake” part of Land Between the Lakes, and we knew: this bridge, this height, this dark water beneath glinting silver and deep.

We parked in a parched, rutted field flanking the bridge, walked past the makeshift tent city occupied by hundreds of people and onto the bridge itself, which, to our surprise, wasn’t crowded — barely a couple of dozen people across the length of the span. Traffic thinned as the moments of totality approached. From our perch, we could see boats below drop anchor, waiting; the birds above, which I had read might fly into full-throated frenzy, were silent.

The light shifted, dimmed, slanted eerily sideways. And then: All light was evacuated. There was no noise from traffic, and little from other watchers. The temperature plummeted by what felt like 20 degrees — the difference between day and night. The wind died; the sky became ink-black. At the moment of totality, it’s safe to remove the special solar-eclipse glasses, so I did, and saw the entire bright body of the sun obscured by the interjecting moon. Solar flares escaped from the sides of the interlocking spheres, bursts of bright energy flashing in a wild halo.

It’s hard to know what to do in those two minutes: try to capture the event with a photo? A video? Leap up in sheer confused wonder? Laugh, overcome by the strangeness of it all, the overpowering perspective shift? Stare and stare and stare some more, trying to imprint the darkness, the coolness, the sun’s energy unfurling frilled fiery ribbons from behind the moon — as if there were any chance in the world you might forget this moment? I seem to recall doing all of these. A kind of eternity opened within those two minutes.

It’s hard to know what to do after those two minutes, too. The sun began to escape its temporary obscurity, and brightness returned to the early afternoon. Everyone looked a little dazed, like people staggering from the doors of a cosmic cinema back into summer afternoon.

There are certain things we think we know for certain, like: what is day, and what is night? Totality spun my certainty around like a globe, and when the sun returned, I found myself slightly but indelibly shifted.

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Cover Feature News

In the Shadow of the Moon

Throughout the day on Monday, April 8th, the moon’s vast shadow, 100 miles across, will pass over the face of the Earth like some great mother ship, blocking light in a creeping path from the Pacific Ocean’s Cook Islands to a point in the Atlantic Ocean some 200 leagues west of France. Those under the hundred-mile-wide band of the shadow will experience a total eclipse of the sun, wherein the apparent size of the lunar disc will exactly match and obscure the sun’s disc, in one of the great coincidences of orbs and orbits in our cosmos, dimming the day as it swings into place and finally blocking all direct sunlight for a few minutes. Then the moon will move away and the day will enjoy a second dawn.

“It’s like a fast-forward sunset and sunrise,” says Quintron, the New Orleans-based musician and inventor who created Weather Warlock, an analog synthesizer and audio processor triggered by signals from an array of wind, humidity, sound, and light sensors. The eclipse, with its stark contrasts, is a time for his creation to shine. He’s noted the Weather Warlock’s sensitivity to the changing light of dusk or dawn before, but the eclipse, he says, is “approximately 10 times as fast.”

Quintron and the Weather Warlock, with control panel schematic (Photo: Panacea Theriac)

The Ecliptic Festival

Like thousands of others, Quintron will be in Hot Springs, Arkansas, when it all goes down. The classic resort town lies directly in the path of totality, as does much of the Natural State. In Hot Springs, the eclipse’s timing corresponds to a time-honored tradition, the Valley of the Vapors music festival, now in its 20th year. This year’s version will be unique, as it’s being co-produced by Atlas Obscura, a company specializing in unorthodox travel packages. Together, they’re calling this hybrid celebration the Ecliptic Festival, and it’s huge.

From April 5th to April 8th, up to 4,000 attendees will gather at Hot Springs’ Cedar Glades Park for musical performances and events with artists, philosophers, astronomers, and other speakers — along with ringside seats to the spectacle of a full solar eclipse. These astronomical pilgrims will be staying in glamping tents, camping on their own, or booking other accommodations (quickly filling up) in Hot Springs or nearby Little Rock.

The startlingly eclectic lineup includes performers like Allah-Las, Blonde Redhead, Deerhoof, and Shannon and the Clams; mythologist and storyteller John Bucher; theoretical physicist Kelly Reidy; and author and astronomer Rebecca Boyle, who will conduct a guided stargazing session. Of course, the first three days of the bash will be much like any other festival, albeit with more telescopes, as the moon and sun won’t yet be engaged in their cosmic pas de deux. Then on Monday, the music will take a left turn.

When the moon begins its creep across the face of the sun, experimental harpist Mary Lattimore will help usher in the darkness. Though faster than a sunset, the dimming of the day occurs over more than an hour and 20 minutes. Halfway through it, music on the main stage will stop and the headlining “artist” leading up to and through the total occultation of the sun will be a robot, tuned in to the sounds of nature.

The sensor array triggering Weather Warlock (Photo: Panacea Theriac)

All Hail the Weather Warlock

Although Quintron sometimes assembles a band that’s billed as Weather Warlock, at the heart of it is the machine he designed some 10 years ago, a device that “uses sun, wind, rain, and temperature to control a monster analog synth designed by Quintronics,” as his website explains. Multiple sensors convert changes in wind speed, barometric pressure, rainfall, and light into voltage and thence synthesizer tones. When the weather or light is shifting, no band is necessary: The device creates fascinating tonal paintings entirely on its own, worth recording and releasing.

“During Hurricane Ida,” says Quintron, “we knew a weather event was coming and I knew it was going to get really nuts. So I tuned up all the sensors, dialed it in, and then just set it to record as long as the power stayed on. And it stayed on quite a while, pretty deep into extreme hurricane winds and rainfall. And that became the record, PEOPLE = ANTS.”

Well before Ida, of course, Quintron and his device were active during the 2017 total solar eclipse, perched on the roof of Third Man Records in Nashville, the audio of which was later released as the record, Occulting the Sun. But Quintron’s approach has evolved somewhat since then.

“I’m going to have mics set up in the area too,” says Quintron of his Hot Springs setup. “My whole microphone system and the electronic filtration of that source has now come to be called the Wildlife Organ, which is just a series of all-weather microphones at different elevations in the wilderness, capturing the critters. Because how the animals and insects and birds respond to an eclipse is kind of the most mind-blowing thing about it.”

As day turns to night, birds and bees stop their activity and the crickets come out to sing. While the Weather Warlock’s mics and sensors will in fact be running throughout the festival, “like a little weather station that people can visit, going on 24/7 during the entire fest,” he says, the approach to and immersion in totality will make for the most dramatic effects from Quintron’s device. “This is the Super Bowl Sunday for Weather Warlock, so during totality it’s only going to be Weather Warlock playing. I’m not going to mess with it too much. I just want to experience this machine that I built, reacting to the sky.”

Accordingly, he hopes the festival attendees will respect the moment. “I begged [the festival organizers] to please let me be the only sound-generating human during the actual eclipse,” he says, and his wish has come true, assuming festival partiers cooperate and simply listen. “I just want to let the lords of the skies and Mother Earth do their thing. I don’t want to comment or interact or join in because it’s such a rare weather event.”

During totality, from roughly 1:49 to 1:53 p.m. in Hot Springs, the sun’s disc will be blocked, but it won’t be entirely dark. Rather, an eerie twilight will set in, and stars will appear. As in 2017, Venus and Jupiter (and other less visible planets) will appear on either side of the occulted sun. For close to four minutes, observers will be able to remove their protective sun-viewing glasses (the only time it’s safe to do so) and marvel at how small we are. People = ants, indeed.

And then, gradually, Weather Warlock will surrender its command of the festival, giving way to what many, including Quintron, are most keenly anticipating: an appearance by the acolytes of Sun Ra himself.

The Sun Ra Arkestra, led by Marshall Allen (center) (Photo: Courtesy El Ra Records)

The Sun Ra Arkestra

Booking the Sun Ra Arkestra on the day of the eclipse was an inspired choice by Atlas Obscura and Valley of the Vapors, and not just because it’s arguably the longest-running, continuously operated jazz ensemble in the world today. Sun Ra, born Herman Blount in Birmingham, Alabama, transformed himself and his music by putting the transcendent possibilities of cosmic bodies — the moon, Saturn, the stars, the sun — at the heart of his creativity. Changing his name to honor the Egyptian god Ra in the mid-Fifties, he never looked back, assembling an ever-shifting big band that paired increasingly free jazz with more disciplined compositions and even the sounds of exotica, as they chanted, “We travel the spaceways/From planet to planet …”

Though its leader passed away in 1993, the Arkestra — pairing “orchestra” with an allusion to a wandering ark — sailed on, led today by its oldest surviving member, Marshall Allen, who joined the group in the late ’50s. And Allen, now 99, has kept the Arkestra’s guiding aesthetic in place, from the bold, colorful costumes to the eclectic mix of big band swing tunes (Fletcher Henderson is a favorite), chanted songs of space, and free improvisation.

Tyler Mitchell, who first played with Sun Ra in the ’80s before rejoining the Arkestra in 2010, still marvels at the saxophonist’s vigor. “Marshall’s amazing,” he says. “He still moves around and is in good shape, man! I admire him. He’s just such a great example to mankind, to people. Not just to musicians.”

Quintron, for his part, is especially excited that the Arkestra will immediately follow him. “I’ll be taking the baton between the harpist, Mary Lattimore, and Sun Ra. I’ve been given the go-ahead to overlap and kind of join those two artists.” And he couldn’t be more pleased. “Sun Ra,” says Quintron, “is on my personal Mount Rushmore of how to think about music and how to approach music.” Having said that, neither Quintron nor the Arkestra members themselves know exactly what to expect when they take the stage.

Recalling the Arkestra’s performance at Atlas Obscura’s 2017 eclipse event in Oregon, Mitchell explains, “The last time we did it, we just followed Marshall’s cues. Neither Sun Ra or Marshall tell you what they’re going to play. Sometimes Marshall is known to just get up and have us play a space chord, where everybody just blows a note, and he directs you with his hand. And just the different textures of the space chords would be the song.”

But things could be more arranged. “We also have what we call stomps,” says Mitchell, “like the old Fletcher Henderson stuff. Marshall covers all the different styles in jazz when we do a concert. And if a song’s too nice and neat and clean, and all too perfect, he’ll come in and just mess it all up. You don’t want it to be too perfect. He likes to have that chaos.”

And so, as the sunlight gradually reemerges, expect the unexpected, but know that the Sun Ra Arkestra, having such songs in their repertoire as “When Sun Comes Out,” “Solar Differentials,” “Dancing Shadows,” and “Satellites Are Spinning” are well-prepared to capture the moment.

The path of totality across North America, moving from southwest to northeast (Photo: courtesy Atlas Obscura)

Lighting Out for the Graze Zone

For Memphians who want to experience totality, Hot Springs is arguably the most musical destination on April 8th, but there are other options, from low-key gatherings to camping on your own. The zone of complete occultation stretches from the southwest to the northeast of the state, with many planned events and over two dozen state parks in that area. The Crystal Garden in Mt. Ida, Arkansas, for example, will have camping and acoustic music amidst the largest quartz crystal deposit in the world, nestled in the Ouachita National Forest. The University of Arkansas in Little Rock will have a family-friendly event, and Arkansas State University in Jonesboro will participate in the Nationwide Eclipse Ballooning Project, sponsored by NASA, releasing dozens of weather balloons laden with scientific instruments to record atmospheric changes during the eclipse. Meanwhile, the website ozarktotaleclipse.com lists several smaller-scale celebrations in the Ozark foothills, all in the path of totality.

As the site ar-eclipse.info notes, some prefer to be on the margins of that path, in what’s called “the graze zone.” In some ways, being on the borders of totality’s path can make the eclipse even more striking. As described by NASA, “An observer positioned here will witness a solar crescent which is fragmented into a series of bright beads and short segments. … These beading phenomena are caused by the appearance of photospheric rays which alternately pass through deep lunar valleys and hide behind high mountain peaks as the moon’s irregular limb grazes the edge of the sun’s disk.” Properly viewed with protective glasses, this near-total eclipse ringed with beams and flares of light can be spellbinding, especially for astrophotography buffs.

Closer to home, outside the path of totality, the eclipse will still be impressive. Indeed, the village of Wilson, less than an hour away, will be especially active. Their Crawfish Festival takes place through the day of April 6th, giving way to live music that evening and ultimately an eclipse-viewing gathering two days later, when the sun’s disc will be 99.38 percent blocked at its peak. (Protective glasses must be worn the entire time when observing the sun.)

Just down the road in Dyess, Arkansas State University’s KASU radio station will host the Arkansas Roots Music Festival in front of the Johnny Cash Boyhood Home on the 6th, with El Dorado-native Jason D. Williams headlining, plus a “lunch and learn” with NASA scientist Dr. Les Johnson on the 7th, and the option to park campers near the historic home for the following day’s astronomical event.

And finally, lest one forget the wide-ranging impact the eclipse will have on all of nature, one NASA initiative may persuade you to eschew the music and hoopla and simply listen. Known as the Eclipse Soundscapes Project, it puts the invisible at the center of the celestial experience, encouraging people from all walks of life to document the stark changes in animal behavior when all goes dark. As noted on the NASA website, the eclipse offers “the perfect opportunity for a large-scale citizen science project.” Volunteers will be asked to use a low-cost audio recording device to capture nature’s sounds during the eclipse, or to write down their multisensory observations for submission to the project website.

“I’m so glad that they’re doing that,” says Quintron of NASA’s Eclipse Soundscapes Project. “I’m very happy that I won’t be in a big city, but in a forest. And making recordings out in the field, where there is not a large amount of human influence, is really important. We need recordings of what the critters and the birds and the insects are doing during this event because it’s really remarkable. They’re not reading on the news that the eclipse is coming. They’re purely reacting to it. And in a similar way, I just really want to draw people’s attention to the physical world that they live in, in whatever way I can.”

Categories
Letter From The Editor Opinion

(Not) Staring at the Sun

An X post last month from Janel Comeau (@VeryBadLlama) made the viral rounds, eventually finding its way to my Facebook feed: “hey sorry I missed your text, I am processing a non-stop 24/7 onslaught of information with a brain designed to eat berries in a cave.” Relatable, Llama.

I’ll admit (as I have before) there are weeks when there’s so much floating around in my head — and in my email inbox, and in my news feeds, and in the world — I don’t always know where to land on words for this space. It’s not that I don’t have thoughts on wars or crime or politics or the hottest topic of the past week here in Memphis — “Beale Street Music Festival! Tom Lee Park! WE’RE MAD! RAH RAH!” It’s just that sometimes, my berry-eating cave-brain takes over, and it’s either too much to rein in or too little to devote deep reflection to.

Of course, the human brain has evolved (most of them, anyway, heh), but I’m not sure our evolution is yet in line with the 24/7 onslaught. Aside from keeping up with news cycles, television shows, notifications, deadlines, or social media feeds, take my Flyer email as an example. Dozens of important messages come through daily, but there are at least 10 times as many that take up unnecessary space: “Memphis ranks #1 city with the nosiest neighbors”; “Over a third of Americans report candy-related accidents to their teeth”; “Jumpiest Horror Movies Of The Last Five Years.” The trivial mail continues (and often gets a sweeping “select” and “delete”).

Anyhow, did you all have a chance to see last weekend’s solar eclipse? While we weren’t in the path of totality, signs of the event could be caught via crescent-shaped shadows cast on sidewalks through leaves. Or in lens flares from cameras pointed toward the sky. I didn’t acquire any eclipse glasses, knowing the western part of the U.S. was where the real action would happen, but I’m happy to have paused to catch a glimpse — not staring at the sun, but through my phone’s viewfinder. In today’s hurried culture, we don’t often stop to think about our place in the vastness of the universe, or the life- and light-giving gift of that ball of fire in the sky, or the wonder of the moon’s glow as everything rotates endlessly in space. It’s nice to have those awe-inspiring glimmers that remind us we’re not just here to process a constant onslaught of information.

Speaking of the universe, an article by Adam Frank published in The Atlantic this summer has sat with me (with due credit to the headline that initially drew me in): “Scientists Found Ripples in Space and Time. And You Have to Buy Groceries.” Well, damn.

According to that recent discovery, “The whole universe is humming. Actually, the whole universe is Mongolian throat singing. Every star, every planet, every continent, every building, every person is vibrating along to the slow cosmic beat,” Frank wrote. Reverberations of galactic collisions from perhaps as far back as the birth of the universe itself are woven into the fabric of our existence. “The gravitational-wave background is huge news for the cosmos, yes, but it’s also huge news for you,” he continued. “The nature of reality has not changed — you will not suddenly be able to detect vibrations in your morning coffee that you couldn’t see before. And yet, moments like these can and should change how each of us sees our world. All of a sudden, we know that we are humming in tune with the entire universe, that each of us contains the signature of everything that has ever been. It’s all within us, around us, pushing us to and fro as we hurtle through the cosmos.”

Knowing this, with an evolved cave-brain that deep within yearns to eat berries in the forest rather than stand in line for overpriced groceries, forgive me if I sometimes have trouble drumming up commentary on the current state of things. The universe hums across eternity. A gentle breeze blows against my face. The mortgage is due. And there’s a sink full of dirty dishes.

Categories
News News Blog

One Memphian’s Journey to 2017 Eclipse Totality

Ziggy Mack

You can’t prepare for magnificence — not really. Months ago, I blocked off August 21st on my Outlook calendar — “TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE” — knowing that Something Was Going to Happen, and that I needed to put myself in its path.

I remember as a child spinning a globe, lightly tracing the sphere with a fingertip as it slowed, hoping to rest on a city with an entrancing name where I might one day travel. My strategy for picking an eclipse-viewing location was not terrifically more sophisticated. I looked at the path of totality on a map and picked the town within a day’s drive with the most entrancing name: Cadiz, near the southwest corner of Kentucky.

In search of a singular experience, I didn’t want to be in a crush of people, a crowd of awestruck gaspers all wearing our cardboard ISO-certified glasses. And the name — Cadiz, after the ancient Andalusian city in Spain — resonated in my mind, sufficient mysticism right there in Kentucky, 196 miles from my front door.
My eclipse companion and I never made it to Cadiz. We didn’t need to. Close to our planned destination, we crossed a long, gracefully arching bridge over the “lake” part of Land Between the Lakes, and we knew: this bridge, this height, this dark water beneath glinting silver and deep.

We parked in a parched, rutted field flanking the bridge, walked past the makeshift tent city occupied by hundreds of people and onto the bridge itself, which, to our surprise, wasn’t crowded — barely a couple of dozen people across the length of the span. Traffic thinned as the moments of totality approached. From our perch, we could see boats below drop anchor, waiting; the birds above, which I had read might fly into full-throated frenzy, were silent.

The light shifted, dimmed, slanted eerily sideways.

Anna Traverse

And then: All light was evacuated. There was no noise from traffic, and little from other watchers. The temperature plummeted by what felt like 20 degrees — the difference between day and night. The wind died; the sky became ink-black. At the moment of totality, it’s safe to remove the special solar-eclipse glasses, so I did, and saw the entire bright body of the sun obscured by the interjecting moon. Solar flares escaped from the sides of the interlocking spheres, bursts of bright energy flashing in a wild halo.
It’s hard to know what to do in those two minutes: try to capture the event with a photo? A video? Leap up in sheer confused wonder? Laugh, overcome by the strangeness of it all, the overpowering perspective shift? Stare and stare and stare some more, trying to imprint the darkness, the coolness, the sun’s energy unfurling frilled fiery ribbons from behind the moon — as if there were any chance in the world you might forget this moment? I seem to recall doing all of these. A kind of eternity opened within those two minutes.
It’s hard to know what to do after those two minutes, too. The sun began to escape its temporary obscurity, and brightness returned to the early afternoon. Everyone looked a little dazed, like people staggering from the doors of a cosmic cinema back into summer afternoon.

There are certain things we think we know for certain, like: what is day, and what is night? Totality spun my certainty around like a globe, and when the sun returned, I found myself slightly but indelibly shifted.

Anna Traverse is the communications specialist for New Memphis.