Slapped By the Sun

Dearest Rachel –

I’m told that, within the last day or two, we got slapped by the sun. Or maybe we’re going to be; I’m not sure how it works. Apparently, there was this huge solar flare yesterday afternoon (our time; I’m not sure how that works for the sun), although I could swear I’ve been hearing about it for the last couple of days. Maybe yesterday afternoon was when this solar storm peaked. In any event, it was at that point that there was what they call a coronal mass ejection, which might be akin to the sun sneezing plasma and magnetic field in our general direction. It’s supposed to arrive here either tomorrow or Thursday, and may very well mess up our electronic grid.

Upon further investigation, I see why I thought this latest incident happened days ago; there were similar flares early last week, on both Monday and Wednesday, which also let off CMEs of their own. Shortwave radio blackouts occurred in Africa and Europe at that point, since they were the portions of the Earth on which the sun was shining at the time. In addition, the aurora borealis could be seen as far south as your dad’s family home in Alton over the weekend – and if this latest flare is any indication, they might be visible at various points throughout the rest of this week.

Most of this was lost on me, as I was long in bed by the time these were visible. I didn’t see much on the drive home from Sparks, and once we were home, all I was concerned with was getting the trash out onto the street before calling it a night. You might have called me out on it for being so concerned with the daily grind that I missed the display in the sky, but it’s also possible that the effect of millions like myself enduring the wind-down of our respective grinds produce so much light that the glow in the heavens isn’t even visible to us here. There’s a metaphor in here somewhere, I’m sure, but I can’t put my finger on it.

The morning was little better; while I may have been able to breathe the air of consciousness at some point before five, the chill and dark (to say nothing of the comfort of my bed and blankets) was such that I was only too happy to let myself drop back into the folds of slumber. I didn’t get out of the house until after seven, at which point, it was just starting to grow light. Not enough that I could see the sun – and definitely not enough for me to feel its effects – but enough so that, if the northern lights were still dancing in the atmosphere, I wouldn’t have been able to see them, even if I was looking up to try to catch them. As it was, I was still focused on making my way to the gym before I froze over; I wasn’t thinking about what might be going on in the sky, to be honest.

And if I was, I would have probably been thinking about how it would be nice to feel a little more sun at this point. If it were to reach out and slap me at that moment, I might very well appreciate it.

But, just like every other moment in one’s day or life, it passes. By the time I was leaving after putting in my hour upon the treadmill, I was more than warm enough that the chill of the day (and at this point, it certainly was daytime; the sun had risen over the trees, and I could feel it trying its best to warm the place up, however feebly) was, if not exactly comfortable, at least refreshing. It made for a suitably pleasant walk home after all that exertion.

It also made me consider how little of an effect we really have upon things, as much as we like to think otherwise. For all that we think we’re responsible for everything that happens on this damp little rock spinning through the vast cosmos, we find ourselves enduring heat and cold in their appointed seasons every year, and our impact on these changes in temperature is minimal in comparison. You could set your calendar by this truism, as indeed we have.

Likewise, every time we think we have things under our control here, the earth, the sky or the things within either of them process to remind us how little we matter to them. If there were radio blackouts last time, we might suffer through similar interruptions in the next day or two as well. I can only guess whether the literal impact of the sun’s ejecta upon us will actually warm us up as well. It might actually bring us up to the planetary average throughout the epochs, as it turns out that we’re living through a relatively cool period in our geological history, various social scolds notwithstanding.

On the other hand, like so many other things (whether volcanoes, earthquakes, hurricanes or whatever other natural disaster might befall us), it may well be that, even if we feel it in one part of the world, most of us won’t even notice, and for those that do, there will be a time of disruption, followed by building everything back the way it was and continuing on with our lives. Every disruption changes everything, but only for so long, like ripples in a lake when a rock is chucked into it; the whole lake may reflect it, depending on the size of the lake and the rock, but eventually, the ripples fade, and life goes on. So, too, will it be, even after getting slapped by the sun. It may leave a mark, but it will probably fade soon enough.

In any case, if you don’t hear from me in a day or two, you’ll know why. Until then, honey, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m sure I’m going to need it.