We human beings are at our best when we unofficially unite over a special happening. Spontaneously, we go quiet and think. It happened recently when the moon cast a shadow on our Earth, and there was a communal intake of breath, as we felt part of the unimaginable size and power of the universe.
Every open space in London was full of people awaiting the big event. Where I live, a bridge over the Thames was packed with people wearing special glasses, as well as in boats, and on the banks. Everybody was festive and noisy, but as the world turned sepia-coloured, and we watched our life-giving sun vanish behind the black moon, a gradual silence descended. “Wow,” was all my family managed, and some surprising tears.
As the eclipse reached its peak, some applause broke out. Not noisy cheering, but gentle, polite, clapping. No bird sang and we were silently awestruck. United. It wasn’t planned, but some of us I think felt blessed in that supernatural moment.
There have been other occasions when our rowdy world has quietened, and we found ourselves expressing a shared emotion. The death of Princess Diana was one such event. We needed to cry out that we cared for the poor damaged woman, that we cherished the childlike beauty that over the years she developed into a defiant glamour. A wave of grief at her loss spread and became a massive floral tribute.
I remember a wave of collective determination after the war, when visiting the events for the Festival of Britain. We were as a nation saying, “we are clever and brave and will recover from the hell of war. We may look drab and exhausted, but we will still waltz and quickstep the night away on the South Bank”, laying the foundations for the cultural centre that it is today.
I really hope we can nurture the gentle, united spirit I sensed during the eclipse, and not be led astray by the evil that is threatening our world. Our miraculous, beautiful, world.
As Shakespeare said, “one touch of nature makes the whole word kin.”
