celestial events Archives - Owl Medicine: Shamanic Healing

Photo: Bob King, Duluth, Minnesota

Comet Neowise

For all the grief we’re attributing to the year 2020, what with Covid-19, murder wasps, the Bubonic Plague, disastrous unemployment, unprecedented losses of small businesses, and 16,000 other awful things I’m not recalling at the moment, there are a couple bright spots. One of them is C/2020 F3 (NEOWISE), or more commonly known as Comet Neowise.

Yeah, this baby looks like what we all hoped and expected Halley’s Comet to look like when it finally showed up. From the photos I’ve seen, Neowise is spectacular in its split tail and brilliance. In many ways, the photos of it remind me of how, as a child, I imagined the Star of Bethlehem must have looked to the three wise men.

As I was searching for a unique photo of the comet to use for this post that’s not the same as the gorgeous ones I’ve seen on Facebook (over Glastonbury Tor, for instance), I came across the one above by Bob King in Duluth, Minnesota. Two things about this link: first of all, the photo is of the comet in the evening! That was just taken tonight.

I just love how Mr. King managed to capture the comet not only directly in the sky overhead but also exquisitely reflected in the lake below. What a wonderful shot!

Morning or Evening?

I’m pretty sure that most, if not all, of the photos that have been showing up so far have been taken in the wee hours of the morning of the particular locality. In fact, I think we should be able to see it one more time, at least, in the hour or two before sunrise – either ‘tonight’ (depending on when you go to sleep) or tomorrow.

By my calculations, at least if I use this article’s timing, I should be going to my prime viewing spot at around 3:51 a.m. Yeesh. That’s asking a lot, Mother Nature! (I arrived at that ‘start time’ be calculating an hour and 50 minutes before sunrise.)

Yes, I am usually awake until at least 2:00 a.m. every night (or morning, if you want to get technical about it). But staying up that extra two hours, while probably fairly easy for me to do by simply giving myself permission to binge-read my latest book, will almost certainly result in feeling as though I’m missing a half a beat most of the day tomorrow.

So I’m psyched to learn that there could very well be a fairly good opportunity to see Comet Neowise in the evening sky, about an hour after sunset, starting tomorrow. Heck – with it being so hot lately, we’ve been walking more in the early evening hours anyway, so this wouldn’t be a stretch for us at all.

near Sursee, Switzerland – July 7, 2020

Wonderfully Precise Instructions

But as great as the photo by Bob King is, it’s also accompanied by a wonderful article describing in great detail the best ways to locate the comet in the evening sky. I feel like the specificity in this article should give any of us who really want to see this comet (and are blessed with clear skies and an obstruction-free and somewhat light pollution-less view) a decent chance of success.

So here you go. If you’re into it, I hope you meet with success in witnessing this celestial phenomenon, which is only visible to us every 6,766 years or so.

July 7, 2020 (photographer unknown)

On the off chance I wake up two hours before the crack of dawn’s early light (you know, three hours from now), I may give it a shot. More likely, though, I’m going to pin my hopes on an evening score.

As you know from my numerous posts about an assortment of meteor showers and even another comet or two, I love this stuff. And I miss my boys, who so very often were game to indulge their mother’s crazy excitement at witnessing celestial events that often sounded much better than they ended up being.

What’s In a Name?

But don’t you just love the name of this comet, too? Neowise? I know it’s named after the space telescope that discovered it on March 27th. March 27th! Of 2020! Nevertheless, it feels like the synchronicity of its name might just be an offering of the tiniest glimmer of hope for humanity: perhaps this comet will usher in an era of “new wisdom.”

Let’s hope.

(T-502)

Looking Up At Night

If you’ve been reading my posts even sporadically and happened to catch a few I wrote when a celestial event was taking place, you know I relish looking up into the night sky.

I’ve written about a variety of meteor showers, eclipses, and comets, among other phenomena. And a crucial aspect of witnessing these events comes down to the ability to look up into the night sky and see.

Living in the Country

Most people would look at where we live and assume that we have spectacular views of the night sky because we live ‘in the country.’ Sadly, however, ‘living in the country,’ at least when it comes to the corridor between Washington D.C. and Boston, Massachusetts, does not translate to darkness at night.

In fact, and here’s a confession: I’m incredibly frustrated with a couple of neighbors who’ve moved into our area over the past couple of years. Both sets of new owners purchased homes that were at least 150 years old and sat on a nice amount of acreage.

One property is on our road, quite close to our home. We live in what used to be referred to on historical maps as a hamlet – essentially consisting of a half dozen or so houses. We do not have street lights. We live in the country. That is an essential part of the beauty of where we live.

Lack of Awareness

Thus, it is unbelievably irritating that people have moved in a few houses away from us and decided it was a great idea to hang several strings of bright light bulbs extending from their house to their barn, lighting up the entire ‘neighborhood.’ Even more irritating is the fact that they keep them on all night.

At first we thought this was just some decorative activity because it was approaching Thanksgiving. We chalked it up to a little ‘being afraid of the novelty of living in the country’ pre-holiday lighting. But it never ended. They never took those lights down. The lights never get turned off (at night).

When I went outside to look at the Leonids or Orionids, I had to either drive a mile or so in order to escape the glare of the neighbors’ lights or find a place that was shielded by structures from the glare. When we took a walk after a heavy snowfall and wanted to look up into the pristine sky and witness the moon glistening off the icy crust, we were treated to lights instead.

Lighting Up the Countryside

The other example of neighborly infliction of light pollution is a farm that was purchased by people who only live at the premises part time, but have installed an brilliant, glaring spotlight on their barn that blasts light in all directions. The light is literally blinding, and is made worse by the fact that the house and barn sit atop a wonderfully prominent hill that used to be a choice spot to witness the constellations.

Now we literally have to shield our eyes if we take a walk once the sun has set. It is incredibly upsetting every single time we walk up that hill (on our usual 2.2 mile walkabout – although it’s also on the longer 4 mile trek as well). It’s brighter than having a car bearing down on us. And the road upon which we’re walking is probably 150 yards from the barn – that’s how huge a blast of light is being emitted from this light.

Light Pollution

I’m reminded of this pollution and how upsetting it is that people move into the country, where we’ve kept lights at a minimum on purpose because of this article that just appeared the other day. Light pollution hurts all of us.

We need to be able to see the stars at night. As mentioned in the article, we used to be able to see over 2500 stars at night. Now, many people in Europe and the United States are lucky to be able to see a few hundred with the naked eye. And that’s because of light pollution.

As I contemplated this situation yet again this evening and read this most recent article again, I checked out one of the organizations mentioned: the International Dark Sky Association. I’m seriously contemplating becoming involved with this organization to see if I might craft a strategy to appeal to our neighbors and ask them to not only reconsider the impact of their ‘lighting up the night,’ but also contemplate the gifts and benefits to all of us of embracing the dark.

It’s Not Just Hurting Us Humans

As the article points out, it’s not just humans who are affected by the inundation of our world by light (and LED lights making things even worse). All nocturnal creatures are suffering from our insensitivity to the impact of too much light at night.

Just one fascinating fact is the incredible number of birds that suffer unintended and unexpected consequences as a result of urban and suburban lighting. Many migrating birds are thrown off course or run into buildings and windows as a result being blinded by lights. You can read more about this issue here.

Mountain Awe

I guess I’m particularly sensitive to this topic because of the stunning beauty I witnessed just the other night. I walked outside at 4:30 a.m. and looked up. I’m about 4,000 feet above sea level, high in the Appalachians. When I looked up into the unpolluted night sky, I felt my entire being open up to the enormity of the Universe. To the core of my being, I felt utterly expansive and at the same time utterly humble in my insignificance.

I cannot help but feel that everyone would benefit from experiencing such a profound sense of awe on a more frequent basis. We all deserve to see the Milky Way. Especially since so many have never experienced it ever.

(T-743)