Looking at the Sun with the Naked Eye

For the past several weeks, those of us in the U.S., particularly anyone reasonably near the path of totality, have been BOMBARDED with all the tips, tools, and tricks of the DOs, DONTs, HOW-TOs, and WHERE-TOs for handling our unnatural pull to an uncommon astronomical event: A Total Solar Eclipse.

Various places around town have been handing out free "eclipse" glasses (some opportunistic knock-off types even circulated), but NASA and various organizations of Ophthalmology provided ample information and recommendations on which viewing methods would be safe, and the best way to maximize the experience without causing any harm to ourselves.

Bottom Line Message: Don't look at the sun with the naked eye.

So I got my hands on a pair of confirmed "safe" eclipse glasses, even wore my regular shades over the top of them to help eliminate the corona's blur; my co-worker constructed one of the elementary school styled viewing boxes to see the eclipse indirectly; and over a 40-or-so minute span we alternated between the glasses and the box, mere seconds at a time, resting to take in the darkening of the air and the drop in temperatures accordingly. We were being safe as safe can be, while still getting the most out of the 93% totality I am unlikely to experience ever again.

Still. I could not resist the subconscious urge to disregard all the advice, tips, tricks, and DONTs. For just a second, to see what it ACTUALLY looks like...near the peak of the event, I simply had to steal a glance. With the naked eyes.

Will I die from it? No. Permanent damage? Probably not. Temporary white-out and several minutes of a tiny crescented dot right in the center of my regular view? Absolutely. Was it worth it? Not really. Do I regret it? Meh, not really. Did I learn anything? Probably, mostly along the lines of, you know what - they were probably telling the truth the whole time - but sometimes you have to just see for yourself. Yet, the possibility that it might have been a beautiful and unique experience, once-in-a-lifetime even, was worth the risk of the chance at the moment.

Truth be told, however, you actually can't see much at all, even with nearly 93% of the sun's surface being completely blocked by the moon, the brightness and intensity of the sun is still so incredibly powerful so that all you can see is that blinding white light.

My question, and I welcome the criticism and name-calling due, remains: Why, despite all the suggestions not to, knowing the potential side-effects and general consequences of doing so, did I still feel so compelled to ignore everything others had told me and try to steal a glance anyway?

I think it's human nature to be curious. Especially of the things we're told we can't/shouldn't do.

I did it too. And they said "Don't use sunglasses" so what do you think a bunch of military folks did? Collected everyone's sunglasses and stacked them so we could see it through FIVE sunglasses

haha this also makes me thing of my inability to resist watching someone working in the ceiling. I know when they move those ceiling tiles, that I'm going to get nasty stuff in my face. Still have to fight the temptation to watch haha.

All points thusfar are very, on point! Seeing is believing.

I feel in a way that Campbell himself would look at an eclipse with the naked eye. Why allow others to dictate what we ought and ought not to do?

Still, I wonder, and forgive my lack of clear presentation here, but whether the biblical relation holds weight in this case. The loose story I somewhat recall hearing the parable of was a group of people who were instructed to leave a soon to be damned city, but specifically told NOT to look back. At least one lady did, and she turned into a pillar of salt (?). [Please feel free to help me out here if you feel so inclined, or not, as I think the point can be made without specific details].

I recall the general lesson to be one of faith. Blind faith perhaps. But faith nonetheless. So why was it that lady did not have the faith, and instead looked back. Why did I lack the faith, and look at the sun anyway.

There is something inexplicable to me here that lies between the notion of "faith" whatever faith's exact opposite would be (not gonna be lazy and just call it nonfaith or disbelief or something), but also something inexplicable interacting in the spectrum between faith and its opposite, and perhaps even extending beyond and around the two.

So what is that missing element, or that pressing notion which causes us to question and wonder and need to learn for ourselves?

Is it simply something of our natural rejection of control, our desire to live our own life, find our own way, and experience our own experiences?

Its human nature to think thats not gonna happen to me.
For all the warnings and information we have to tell us what will happen should we do A or B,
We still believe we are invincible..

It couldn't possibly happen to me.. These things I agree with only happen to others..

Its that kind of logic that makes us peek and curiousity, stubborn belief in self. Belief that we control things, effects and no ones gonna tell us different.

Basically at heart we are idiots...or like little kids
We KNOW better

Hahaha

elizabeth wrote: Its human nature to think thats not gonna happen to me.
For all the warnings and information we have to tell us what will happen should we do A or B,
We still believe we are invincible..

It couldn't possibly happen to me.. These things I agree with only happen to others..

Its that kind of logic that makes us peek and curiousity, stubborn belief in self. Belief that we control things, effects and no ones gonna tell us different.

Basically at heart we are idiots...or like little kids
We KNOW better

Hahaha

Ah...all very true...and perhaps it was not entirely the belief that "it couldn't possibly happen to me" or even that "it might not happen to me" as much as it was the unanswerable question of being faced with the risk of always wondering what it would have looked like, had I not looked.