Spectacular disappointment

Two weeks ago I experienced a total solar eclipse. That is, I got up at 7am, took a taxi to 静安公园, and wound my way through tai-chi doers to a pond area where lots of people were sitting with cameras in hand. It was a relatively cool day and a breeze was passing through, so all the willow trees swayed beautifully and the water lilies bobbed on the water. A kid took her mother's rubber shoe and floated it in the pond. A French woman with orange hair photographed the kid. All around, people were staring upward in anticipation of the great event.

The sky, however, was completely overcast. I didn't even know which direction the sun was in. Some people left after a while, but the rest of us who stayed--well, we hoped against hope. The sun would only be fully covered around 9:30am, but that was still over an hour away. Who knew--maybe it would clear up by then.

Around 9:00 though, it began to rain. Under a multitude of pink, green, blue, red umbrellas, we peered yet upward. At 9:36, the total eclipse happened. All the earth went black, the rain grew harder and heavier until it was slamming like bullets into the water, and I stood there, alone, feeling the power of something I couldn't see--an incredible alignment

Only a minute or two into it, and the thing lost its magic. People resumed their conversations. The French woman's husband/boyfriend/male companion moved beside me, cheerfully trying to see if the view was better from where I was standing. It wasn't. I offered him my umbrella. He asked me how to say, "it's raining," then shifted to another spot. It was a good time to be alone again, thinking my own thoughts.

After five minutes, the night was past, strange aborted darkness. It had been worth it.

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It had been worth it because I chose to be interested, to have wonder, to enter a state of anticipation regardless of the outcome. I almost didn't make that choice. I guess more and more of the obvious things in life become occasions for decision-making as we grow older. Like whether we will have joy or apathy. Or whether we will be alive or dead. The little things add up.