THE NIGHT OFTHE SUPER BLUE BLOOD MOON
As I beheld the heavenly tableau, I remembered when my daughter Monica was two or three years old and we kept her up late to watch a lunar eclipse that I thought would be her first lesson in astronomy.
It was breathtaking watching the super moon rise at around 6 p.m., and cheering it on as it defeated the banks of clouds that threatened to deprive us of experiencing a phenomenon that has not happened in over a 100 years. The triple treat of the super-cum-blue-cum-blood moon of January 3, 2018 was everything it was promised to be.
Gazing upward at the heavenly display, I got quite emotional witnessing this very significant event in the history of the universe. I wanted to recite a poem or sing out loud, but the unfolding tableau was so solemn — it was like a religious experience, I didn’t want to disturb it with words.
I was born under the sign of Cancer, which makes me a certified moon child. I live watching the moonrise, and bask in the moonlight when I can. And yes, I find my mood and my productivity affected by the comings and goings of La Luna.
The moon was closest to the earth that night, which was why it was bigger than usual; hence the name, “super moon.” And it was the second full moon in January, which is why it was called a “blue moon.” The super moon was huge but the main event was the eclipse that gradually “ate” the yellow ball we know the moon to be and converted it into the blood moon that looked for all the world like an orange fruit floating amid stars and planets against a black sky.
The moon was surrounded by a halo as we saw it reduce in size until it was only a slice, then a sliver. We tracked its disappearance, clicking our cellphone cameras, zooming in as close as the limit of our equipment would allow. But our pictures showed the moon still looking whole; its halo blurring what we witnessed with our own eyes. Once fully covered, however, the moon’s halo was gone and the red-orange orb registered fully, but oh-so-tinily, in our phone cameras.
As I beheld the heavenly tableau, remembered when my daughter Monica was two or three years old and we kept her up late to watch a lunar eclipse that I thought would be her first lesson in astronomy. Lying on lounging chairs in my mother’s front yard, I annotated what was going on. I must have been so taken by the phenomenon I didn’t notice that my little girl was getting upset. When the moon was finally fully covered and the last ray of moonlight was extinguished, Monica screamed. “Where’s the moon? I want the moon to come back!”
It took a while to calm her down, my junior moon child, and we cheered as the moon slowly returned to its full size, lighting up the sky. Last Wednesday night, in Sydney, Monica stayed up to wait for the triple treat. Alas, Sydney was overcast. Disappointed, she went to bed early.
At 6 p.m., I watched the moon rise until it bumped into a bank of thick clouds. I went home for an early dinner, hoping for a better view when I returned. Back on the street, I saw that the moon had won the battle for exposure and it was shining brightly on our neighborhood. The eclipse began at around 8 p.m., quickly reducing the area of the moon until 45 minutes later when the last sliver of moonlight disappeared and left the mysterious red-orange orb — the blood moon.
It hung over the earth for too long, I thought. I went up and down my fourth-floor walk-up at least seven times to check on the progress of the eclipse. While this improved the number of steps recorded on my Fitbit, I was exhausted by 10 o’clock when I called it a night.
As I told my daughter over 40 years ago, the earth’s shadow would move and the moon would be back. And all would be well.
Back in my room, Facebook and Viber were filled with pictures of the moon — from the awesome professional shots by NASA and the likes of Wig Tysmans, to the pitiful cellphone camera images by earnest amateurs like yours truly. There were oohs and ahs and great wonder and positivity expressed. For one brief shining moment in the universe, my Facebook feed showed nothing about Donald Trump or Rodrigo Duterte or Mocha Uson or Bato de la Rosa, or any other characters who have been darkening my screen these past two years.
On the night of the super blue blood moon, all was well in my world.