Yesterday was the anniversary of the night I fell in love with the Aurora Borealis.
It was 1991, I was pregnant with my son, and a friend came pounding on the door in the middle of the night, saying “Get outside! You’ve got to see this!” We threw on coats and ran out the door – and then ran back inside, put on long johns, warm sweaters and jeans, thick socks, boots, hats, coats and mittens and went out for the duration. It was the most stunning thing I have ever seen.
The sky was painted blood crimson and verdant green, and the red was literally pulsing in what appeared to be a dome configuration. It stretched from horizon to horizon, and we could see it perfectly from our back yard. I’ve seen three auroras in my life, all right here in Iowa, but this was by far the best one.
Almost a week to the day prior to the aurora event, there was another event, right here in Iowa City. A grad student took a gun into the physics building and shot several people, killing all but one of his targets. It shocked us, because this kind of stuff wasn’t an everyday ho-hum occurrence in 1991 like it is now. It was horrifying, as it should have been and like all of these things should be. That it could happen at the University of Iowa seemed unthinkable. But no, clearly this can happen anywhere.
A week later, watching this stunning display of Nature’s grace, I felt like the display was the Sun and the Earth mourning together for the loss of those scientists who were so passionately committed to understanding the physics behind the aurora display: Christoph Goertz, Robert Smith, Linhua Shan, and Dwight Nicholson, as well as T. Anne Cleary, in Academic Affairs. The final victim was perhaps the most tragic of all; Miya Rodolfo-Sioson, who was shot and wounded for no particular reason anyone could identify, and paralyzed from the neck down. She passed away of breast cancer in 2008.
The sad and the happy together get all mixed up in my emotions.
It was also the day before my 2nd wedding anniversary, but that’s another can of worms altogether.
One week from today is the 7th anniversary of my moving in with Michael, the great love of my life, and that’s truly something to celebrate.
[2020 edit: As I write this on November 5, we are still waiting for results from our Presidential election, and watching as the deplorable incumbent grasps at straw after straw in a naked attempt to subvert an election, which is one of the most secularly sacred things this country has. This is now getting all mixed up with the rest of the frustration and hopefully, with the joy as well.]
So here you have one event which is associated with grief, frustration, and the greatest of joys. And I can feel all of ’em, and honor my feelings about all of ’em, and find my way back to wonder and appreciation of this extraordinary dance between this tenacious planet and the star She orbits that sustains us all. The photo above was taken by astronauts in the International Space Station back in 2015. It looks like whirling, dancing faeries celebrating this wonderful world. That’s the feeling I get when I see an aurora, or remember the auroras I got to see.
The highest priority on my bucket list is going to Iceland and renting one of those little sleeping cabins with the clear roof so I can lay awake all night and watch the sky dance. I hope I can convince my supremely warm-blooded and cold-phobic love to go with me. We’ll see. I know it’ll be worth suffering through a little chilly weather. Iceland is gorgeous, and auroras are magic. And the magic will keep us warm.
Thank you Gayla! It seems so often we experience highs and lows simultaneously! It sure can be challenging : ). Peace
Thanks for your thoughts Reed! See you Sunday!