Some thoughts on the eclipse of 2015. I traveled to a old hilly cemetery, full of old trees, serpentine trails and hidden grave sites. The moon was a sliver of light and darkening fast. I found a secluded spot I could comfortably watch the lunar show. After about a half hour the moon turned into a dark ashen burning cinder in the sky. The graveyard went black. The stars were more pronounced surrounding the dark orb. The sound of a chill wind blowing through the leaves. Wispy ghosts of clouds floating past. A sense of terror and awe came over the world. A autumnal excitement took me over. It was like for a short time I was living in a horror story. A pale red light fell upon the world. Any moment the dead could rise or alien things could filter down from the stars. As a ‘horror person’ I seek those moments in life and art. A mix of terror and awe. At that moment of the eclipse, the graveyard was my church, the moon my god. Some people like horror for the gore and the sense of pushing boundaries. Some for the jump scares like a roller coaster. These are not my people. My people are the ‘autumnal‘ people, the people who look for a dark transcendence. An encounter with the things that whisper from the shadows. People who find comfort in the darkening world. People who wait for the ashen moon. For about an hour, the dark world revealed its secret face, and we recognized it as our own.
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