On Eclipses
A sideways and imaginative look at journeying through eclipses.
Eclipses are about seeing.
While something is 'eclipsed' - covered - another is revealed. As the Sun is covered, our solar Apollonian principle of clarity and light is blocked by the Moon, a much smaller object, but in the proper distance and position, can fit just right, and in doing so, reveals what we can't usually see in the clear light of day. Thanks to the Moon, the lunar principle of the emotional and imaginal realms, we get to see our Sun's hidden crown and our environment from a different experiential perspective.
It's an invitation to visit with your inner vision, which is able to hold various shades of shadow and not be so sharp in splitting light from dark. Moonshadow is more evocative than the sharpness of the Sun. For those who yearn for constant light and clarity, the experience of an eclipse is jarring because one is taken to a realm that may feel like an Upside Down world, a ‘bizarro’ land where one has the opportunity to see what was previously hidden from view due to the Sun's blinding light. We see what was hidden in plain sight.
I mostly remember witnessing the Great American Eclipse of 2017—the quality of this ephemeral darkening light and the eerily magical silence that descended all around as the animals quieted down. Even the dog that had been barking near us at the park we were at stopped making a ruckus as the totality of the eclipse grew. Nature knew that something was not as it was, and I felt a feeling of reset.
The Tuatha Dé Danann as depicted in John Duncan's Riders of the Sidhe (1911)
"Turn sideways into the light…"
Years ago, I saw the poet David Whyte on Whidbey Island. He mentioned that when the Tuatha de Danaan, a supernatural race of ancient Ireland, went to battle with the island's new invaders, the Milesians (likely Celts from the Iberian peninsula and I'd like to think my ancient ancestors), and sensing that they were about to lose, they “turned sideways into the light.” From that, moving from 'here' to another 'dimension' - sideways - they established a new order: they, the Tuatha de Danann, would rule a world parallel to ours (i.e., the Otherworld), and the Milesians would rule this known world.
This is the story of how the Tuatha de Danann survived their battle with the Milesians by saving themselves from utter destruction by moving sideways into another world linked with ours, but also another world entirely. It takes courage to move into another dimension of engagement.
This moving into another way of perceiving and being also reminds me of how, for the Celts, the Otherworld wasn't 'far away,' but right next to ours. To get there, what was needed was one's way of seeing, and they could easily cross into it. In the story of Prince Pwyll of Dyfed in the First Branch of the Mabinogi in Welsh mythology, he struck a deal with Arawn, lord of the otherworldly kingdom of Annwn, to trade places for a year. His journey to the Otherworld of Annwn takes little effort, for all he has to do is keep riding his horse further until he arrives there. There is no prominent magic, ritual, or accessories to get him there.
I share these two examples to illustrate how other possibilities and ways of being are right next to ours, and we don't need mental acrobatics to get there. What we do need is a subtle sideways turn towards it.
This is the otherworldly nature of eclipses: an opportunity to loosen our grip on our way of being or seeing and to welcome something more subtle and life-changing.
Plus, remember our friend Mercury. As our Liminal Guide at our border crossings, we can call on it to guide us between these two worlds. When we need guidance at the threshold, and we do, Mercury is our guy. You need a guide with special skills to navigate this unfamiliar terrain when you're at the threshold. One's upper-world resume will not do here because what's required is other ways of knowing and perceiving, and perception is what our Mercury helps us do.
So, during an eclipse, evoke your inner vision to help you see the world around you with a new perspective. Look around you and invite your imagination to help you see how the magic of the Otherworld is woven with ours. Let your perception move sideways, perhaps blur your vision as if you were looking at those 3D images from the 90s, and you might see the ancient Tuatha de Danann in your own backyard.
Below is the poem from David Whyte for your enjoyment. Let it be your companion any eclipse season.
“TOBAR PHADRAIC
Turn sideways into the light as they say the old ones did and disappear into the originality of it all.
Be impatient with easy explanations and teach that part of the mind that wants to know everything not to begin questions it cannot answer.
Walk the green road above the bay and the low glinting fields toward the evening sun, let that Atlantic gleam be ahead of you and the gray light of the bay below you, until you catch, down on your left, the break in the wall, for just above in the shadows you’ll find it hidden, a curved arm of rock holding the water close to the mountain, a just-lit surface smoothing a scattering of coins, and in the niche above, notes to the dead and supplications for those who still live .
But for now, you are alone with the transfiguration and ask no healing for your own but look down as if looking through time, as if through a rent veil from the other side of the question you’ve refused to ask.
And you remember now, that clear stream of generosity from which you drank, how as a child your arms could rise and your palms turn out to take the blessing of the world.”
Enjoy & Thrive!
Vanessa Couto
