We were seeking a place away from the omnipresent light pollution that we take for granted living in the heart of a city of 2.5 million. The map app promised us an isolated location, Leroy Watkins Park on the St. John’s River. I’d been by there many times enroute to or from the coast but never entered the park.
Upon arrival, we saw there were no lights for as far as one
could see. Perfect.
We walked down the boardwalk which ended at the south bank
of the St. Johns. From there we had a perfect view of the horizon as well as the
river which meanders and splits into several smaller branches as it crosses
this marshland in the heart of our state.
One of the few rivers in the northern hemisphere to flow north (much like the Nile which is on the same latitude), by the time the St. Johns reaches Jacksonville, it will be much more impressive and more than a mile wide. .
Across the river a herd of cattle were grazing. Sloshing
through mud to eat the grass and aquatic plants along the river’s edge, the
black Angus and red Hereford cows would periodically moo to remind the human
animals across the river that we weren’t the only ones here. They were
accompanied by herons whose periodic shrieks pierced the air and flocks of
chattering birds overhead.
About a half hour after sunset, as promised, on the horizon the two planets appeared, Jupiter the larger and brighter body, Saturn smaller and a bit dimmer set off to the top right. The planets were visibly separate but nearly conjoined in perspective, just above the topmost line of clouds shrouding the horizon. In the midst of a crystal blue background, their tiny point of light was unmistakable.
By now there were four of us sharing the boardwalk, most of us masked, all preserving safe distancing. It was a self-selected audience enjoying a command performance.
As we stood in reverie, talking with the woman who had come
equipped with telescope and camera, the first wave of mosquitoes arrived.
Noisily buzzing in our ears, we bobbed and wove amidst a phalanx of hungry
insects for about ten minutes.
Shortly thereafter, the second wave arrived. Clear
indication that it was time to go.
We would return to our light filled, noisy city with happy
hearts. We had shared in an astronomical experience seen by our fellow human
beings round the world this night. We had recaptured a scene from history that
wouldn’t be available again to our fellow human beings for another 800 years.
Upon our arrival, I lit the four Advent candles on our front porch. It was a gesture from my Celtic soul in part to offer gratitude for a beautiful evening and in part to welcome the new solar year on this Feast Day of Yule, light returning to a darkened world.
It had not been an easy trip. We had been required to leave
for the park right at rush hour. And my bare legs came home with more than a
few mosquito bites. But in the end, it was well worth the trouble. For we had
experienced something truly wonderful this night. My soul had come home
singing. And for that I grateful.
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Harry Scott Coverston
Orlando, Florida
If the unexamined life
is not worth living, surely an unexamined belief system, be it religious or
political, is not worth holding. Most things worth considering do not come in
sound bites.
Those who believe
religion and politics aren't connected don't understand either. – Mahatma Gandhi
For what does G-d
require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with
your G-d? - Micah
6:8, Hebrew Scriptures
Do not be daunted by the
enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly
now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to
abandon it. - Rabbi
Rami Shapiro, Wisdom of the Jewish Sages (1993)
©
Harry Coverston, 2020
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