light pollution Archives - Owl Medicine: Shamanic Healing

Screenshot of my Sky Guide displaying Monoceros – Photo: L. Weikel

AMOs Part 2

You’ll recall from yesterday’s post that AMO stands for Alpha Monocerotid meteor shower, and the AMOs are scheduled to take place this evening.

Technically, the much vaunted burst of shooting stars in tonight’s sky is supposed to start just before midnight. But the wise ones are suggesting that we get ourselves outside, warmed up and our eyes adjusted to the light, by around 11:15 p.m. (eastern time).

The window in which the most meteors will be falling is predicted to be 15 to 20 minutes long, and take place sometime between approximately 11:15 and midnight. So it would seem best to get out there and simply wait. If we’re lucky, the clouds that were scudding across the sky about an hour ago will have dissipated.

Not Enough Heart

I feel as though my last few posts have been far too technical, emphasizing meteor showers and airport telephone charging kiosks, for instance, instead of the aspects of life that stir my soul.

Sometimes, though, the posts I end up writing are based on expediency. They may be keyed to the depth of my tiredness and ultimately simply reflect my commitment to fulfilling my 1111 Devotion and creating my daily Act of Power.

Lately I’ve been feeling as though my circadian rhythms still haven’t caught up to the fact that it’s getting dark really early. And all of a sudden, at just about 10:30, I hit an invisible force field that’s been causing me to fall asleep at my keyboard.

It’s been disconcerting.

Dragging Myself Outside

So here I am. It’s 11:12 p.m. and I am heading out to see if I can witness the AMOs. Karl is asleep on the couch. He’ll express regret that he didn’t come with me to see them (especially if I get outside and the night sky is clear and I manage to see them), but unlike me, he’ll be fine with having seen them vicariously.

While I won’t be able to take any photos, I will report on my experience before posting and going to sleep. I wonder how many of you will be out there at the same time, gazing upward and outward, trying to capture some wonder.

A Bust (Sigh)

Well, I drove myself to a place close by where we often go to experience an expansive vista for celestial events. This evening, perhaps in punishment for my rant against light pollution, there was just enough of a very high level cloud cover to capture an irritating abundance of reflected light, most obviously from the Doylestown area. Indeed, the light was so noticeable that I was actually able to capture it with my iPhone.

Reflected Light Pollution – Photo: L. Weikel

Indeed, everywhere I looked, circling 360 degrees as I stood in the middle of the remote country road, the orangey-yellow glow of artificial light on the ground illuminated the high clouds.

The biggest disappointment, though, was when I checked my Sky Guide App and saw that the Monoceros (from which direction the Alpha Monocerotids emanate) appears to be visible near the Milky Way (which was not discernible at all), and I also should have been able to see the constellation of Orion.

Alas, no dice. It was only when I fully comprehended that the vast, seemingly clear night sky was not even yielding the usual stars and constellations that I realized the high, thin cloud cover was, indeed, filtering out any chance of a ‘cluster’ experience.

One Little Piece of Magic

Even though the short road trip was to no avail meteor shower-wise, I did end up switching my radio from the news program Karl had tuned it to while I was away back to my iPod. I was surprised (but not) and had to smile when the iPod came on at the very beginning of Elton John’s Rocket Man.

What a perfect accompaniment. Turns out I wasn’t alone as I sought to catch a glimpse of this special celestial event. If nothing else, that sense of presence was enough to make the excursion well worth my while, and – if I’m honest? It feels a bit more significant than just a ‘little’ piece of magic.

Thanks, Karl.

(T-736)

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)