Wonders in the sky and on the ground

Long Island took a pause. It wasn't long, but it was long enough to thrill us and amaze us and entertain us and humble us.

The solar eclipse finally arrived Monday afternoon after weeks of ballyhoo. And while we might not have been squarely in the path of totality, we were solidly situated in the path of awesome-ality. There simply was no honest way to shrug this off as just another thing.

What an extraordinary afternoon and what an extraordinary display, with magic up in the sky and on the ground as well. The magic in the heavens was explicable by science. The magic on the ground was a different sort of phenomenon. Thousands of gatherings large and small took place across the region where people of all ages, races, ethnicities, occupations, interests, and political persuasions came together for a common purpose. If only we could bottle that feeling of communality, bathe in it, build on it, and let it become something that is a feature of daily life, not an exception.

In a sense, what most of us did Monday was something that humans have done for all of time. We have always gazed to the heavens, seeking beauty, inspiration, and answers to eternal questions about our origins and place in the universe. This time, we gazed to pay witness. And the clouds cooperated, parting often enough for long enough to give us memorable views of that vivid marigold-colored crescent. This eclipse surely will be the one of the most photographed events of the year.

We learned a lot throughout the process. Some of that will be known more completely down the road after scientists analyze what they saw and measured of the sun's corona and what they saw and measured of the behavior of Earth's animals, birds and insects during the midday darkness that suddenly engulfed the path of totality. But some we know right now, like our own renewed appreciation for the workings of nature, the willingness of people to invest money and time to experience fully this event, and the ability of capitalism to make a buck off that passion.

We also learned that there really is no substitute for being in the right place at the right time. Carpe diem, wrote the ancient Roman poet Horace, and millions of people followed his advice in doing what they could to seize perhaps not the day, but surely the moment.

As we — or at least our children and grandchildren — await the next eclipse in our area 55 years from now, let us remember what we felt Monday, not only as we gazed to the heavens but what we felt as we looked at everyone watching with us. We hope that is not as ephemeral as the celestial show.