| by Dr. Jeffrey Lant An event occurred just the other day which impacts each and every one of us on Spaceship Earth, but which hardly one of us knows anything about and mentions, if at all, quite casually. Yet so momentous is this occurrence, coming with clock like precision, that our very existences depend upon it; nothing could be less prosaic, nothing more significant. It is the vernal equinox... Hereabouts in old New England, the vernal equinox took place at 7:21 p.m., Eastern Daylight Time, March 20, 2011. The spring we have all been awaiting, the spring that delivers the relief from the oppression of cold and damp and short dull days, the spring that blows soft winds, as so many unexpected kisses -- and flowers, too -- that spring, right on the dot, arrived... but we were heavy laden and may have been distracted when it came as our new reality. Good citizens of this galaxy, give an ear now to this great event, which next occurs September 22, 2011 at 10:49 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time. There is nothing that concerns you more than these great celestial movements, the unheard but momentous, unearthly music of the spheres, awesome, terrible, the very stuff of grandeur, eternal, too. Put aside mundane concerns and remember, for an instant, who you are, a one-way passenger on the greatest of galleons, and wither it goes, you go. What is an equinox anyway? An equinox occurs twice a year, when the tilt of the Earth's axis is inclined neither away from nor towards the Sun, the center of the Sun being in the same plane as the Earth's equator. The term equinox can also be used in a broader sense, meaning the date when such a passage happens. The name "equinox" is derived from the Latin "aequus" (equal) and "nox" (night) because around the equinox, the night and day have approximately equal length. Each are, then, about 12 hours long (with the actual time of equal day and night, in the Northern Hemisphere, occurring a few days before the vernal equinox.) The Sun crosses the celestial equator going northward; it rises exactly due east and sets exactly due west. But of all this, we need remember only one thing: the vernal equinox, and the unending adjustments we make to the matter of human time, are all about light and the Sun at the center of our universe. Sol Invictus. While the celestial movements, now this way, now that, are liable to confuse; we all know the crucial significance of our Sun; even the youngest amongst us looks up, involuntarily to admire, rejoice, and be glad of it. Our Sun, of an immensity and heat unimaginable, is brought nearer to us, and happily so, with the vernal equinox. We are, all of us, Sun worshippers... for without it there would be nothing here for us, or of us either. The vernal equinox brings that Sun closer. Tinkerings with time. Because of its unexcelled desirability, we humans have long been beguiled with the notion of how to get more of the Sun we crave. All ancient peoples, particularly the Greeks and Persians, the sophisticates of antiquity, gave serious attention to the matter. Sadly, much of their findings are lost; what remains from the works of Greek astronomer and mathematician Hipparchus (ca. 190- ca.120 BC) and Aristarchus of Samos (around 280 BC) is suggestive of their expertise and insights. But we cannot tell more. However, we do know about Benjamin Franklin, jack of all trades, master of all. Franklin, with his unstoppable curiosity, wanted what only God could deliver: more time. It is easy to see why he desired it so: he, long before Edna St. Vincent Millay, burnt the candle at both ends, and not in purely scientific endeavors, either. At the Court of the Bourbons of France there were any number of elegantes who found Franklin, American minister, worthy of closer study. There was never enough time to gratify them all... And so Franklin advanced the suggestion that became daylight savings. It was a quintessentially American proposal -- bold, audacious, practical, based on science, not theology. Sadly, it is still not clear that it actually works... and each American state, every single one, is by law entitled to adopt it, or not. For God and His equinox time is simple, majestic; humans muddle the matter, to general grumbling and consternation. But not poets... All poets worth their salt weigh in with a will on one of their signature topics: the advent of light, of Sun, of spring. So excited are they by this topic, that they are severely prone to skip over the residue of winter that comes in the first spring days of March, concentrating on the riotous, unrestrained days of April and May. This is wrong, and Henry Van Dyke (1852-1933) rightly noted in "Fisherman's Luck" (1899). "The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is as great as a month." Having said this, I confess I, too, want immediate egress from the grim, cold, muddy days of March spring. I am impatient, like Walt Whiteman: "Give me the splendid silent sun with all his beams full-dazzling." (1819-1892) From "Leaves of Grass" (1855; 1891-92.) Patient through long, drear winters we can be but as we see relief near at hand, we can be patient no longer, for we know, we all know, what is coming and we cannot longer wait. Still liable to be tripped up by winter... we are adamant that the spring is coming. "The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day When the sun is out and the wind is still, You're one month on in the middle of May. But if you so much as dare to speak, A cloud comes over the sunlit arch, A wind comes off a frozen peak, And you're two months back in the middle of March." Robert Frost (1874-1963) "Two Tramps in Mud Time" (1936). But I cannot better end than by urging you to find in any search engine your favorite recording of Aaron Copeland's "Appalachian Spring" (premiered 1944).... It will seize you, uplift you, refresh you... and perfectly position you, in reverence, as you walk into this springtime of your life, whatever your age or circumstances. We are all young again in springtime... such is the magic of the vernal equinox. |
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