I saw a comedian refer to bisexual women as being “in a relationship with the moon” and can confirm this is true. I know where the new moon and full moon are during the month, and hold minor-league witchy commemorations involving intention setting/release, burning of various energy-clearing herbs, journaling, maybe tarot cards if I have a friend over. I like going out to the water’s edge to see the moon rise or set.
But nothing I’ve seen in nature in compares to experiencing the northern lights for the first time this past week. I’ll be forever grateful to my more-Facebook-connected friend Kim, who told me to go out and check the sky, because people were posting photos of them and I should be able to see them. I went out to my dock and saw a hazy pink cloudburst that started a journey for the evening. Here on Tilghman Island, the sky is almost completely dark; very few streetlights, little light pollution, just a tiny island in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay and a lot of dark, open sky. I became obsessed with figuring out what the best spot to view the mesmerizing lights that night would be. I took a few photos from the waterfront park near my house and posted them online.
Kim had mentioned the view would be better when the moon set. I’d mostly forgotten about that, but right before I got into bed around midnight, I remembered and figured I’d step outside to “check the sky real quick.”
The ribbons of pink and purple lights with a green and yellow glow beneath them were astonishing. I’d seen hundreds of pictures posted and thought they were incredible, but couldn’t believe they were happening right in front of my house. I had to drive over to the marina at the northernmost point of the island to get photos of the boats at the water’s edge, then the island drawbridge, and harbor where the workboats are docked. Each photo took 10 seconds of holding completely still, for the “night mode” capture on the iPhone, hence the three-hour tour.
When I finally dropped into bed at four a.m. after posting photos, my neck and back hurt so much from doing what the iphone said: HOLD STILL, but I didn’t care, it was a once-in-a-lifetime constellation amusement park ride I’d buy another ticket for every time.
The lights moved around. You could take a photo one second, and then another and it wouldn’t look the same. There was one spot in particular where you could feel the lights moving all around you. I had to read up on aurora borealis, named by Galileo in the early-17th century, to understand more about this fascinating solar storm phenomenon. As I stood there, there were moments I felt like I was in some kind of rainbow fog cloud. I was able to capture a moment where I took a photo of a row of boats, felt the lights around me, then took a second photo from the same spot, and you can see them:
There were a few times where the wonder of being surrounded by these unicorn rainbow fog clouds brought tears to my eyes. After photographing them for awhile I could see them with the naked eye, which was breathtaking. At first, like all the online stuff says, your camera sees them better, but then when you spend a few hours around them and can tell where they are and how they’re moving, it’s a powerful experience.
One article notes there’s an effect of experiencing “an overwhelming sensation of awe and wonder. A fleeting, momentary sense of being connected to everything and everyone. That transcendent sensation you felt is similar to what scientists and astronauts call ‘The Overview Effect,’ and it can influence your mental health and stress for the better.”
