This month brings the thirtieth anniversary of my first connection with my spirit guide Jake.

I wasn't yet twenty-one. I was struggling in my spiritual life, reeling from disillusion as a born-again Christian in a church run by celebrities--Detroit's affluent. In college debt, wearing shoes with holes in them, driving a car that barely turned over on spring mornings, I never hesitated to put money in the offering plate. Never hesitated to tithe. Never hesitated to contribute to the building fund.

But when the pastor's birthday came along and the congregation filled the chapel beyond capacity for a special birthday service, I stood in shock and confusion when the head deacon presented the pastor with the keys to a brand new Jaguar. "We can't have our pastor driving around, looking raggedy, can we?" The congregation whooped and hollered as if Jesus himself had returned for the special occasion.

I, however, didn't share in the enthusiasm. Pastor was already driving a Cadillac that was quite stylish and far from "raggedy." Yet here in church, we had single mothers filling the pews alongside the elderly, disabled, and quite a few cash-strapped college kids like myself. But pastor--a family man--needed that Jag.

I drove home that evening angry at myself. I chastised myself for not being able to celebrate in pastor's...success? Good fortune? Blessing? Certainly, I wasn't envious. Was I? After all, I didn't want a Jaguar. I'd never been materialistic like that. Luxury cars, designer items, status symbols never called to me, and they certainly didn't impress me. Since childhood, I wanted more than things. I wanted experiences. I longed for engagement with spirit, with the esoteric.

I was seeking apotheosis, transcendence, and in that, a righteous fury burned in my breast as I knew I had just beheld a most gluttonous act right there at the altar before God. I had witnessed our church leaders unabashedly normalizing their avarice, flaunting it in front of church members who were struggling to keep their heat on during the brutal Detroit winters. This was opulence and superfluity in the guise of divine blessings of abundance and prosperity--all for me, none for thee. Such a gross ritual of incognizance and insensitivity, lacking all or any traces of humility.

And that just didn't sit right in my soul, to say the least.

Around 2PM Eastern today, the sun and moon will hit the heavenly dancefloor and show off in a stunning, astronomical exhibition. A swath across parts of Mexico, the Midwest, and eastern United States will be treated to a total solar eclipse, a tango in the sky, where the moon will temporarily block out the sun and thrust us into midday darkness.

It's not the first time humanity has witnessed such a sublime wonder--one that evokes exhilaration, curiosity, awe, and woe--and it definitely won't be the last. Although, one should note that this is a particularly spectacular eclipse for those in the USA because it will cover numerous states. While another total eclipse is due in 2044, it's only going to cover a fraction of the states in the US--about three. The country won't see another total eclipse comparable to today until 2045, cutting a swath along the southern US, and then 2078 and 2099.

So, for many of us up in years, this may very well be the last total solar eclipse we witness. If you can pull away from work for a few minutes, you might want to join the millions whom already have bought lawn chairs and specially-made glasses for viewing eclipses. Grab your lunch or some popcorn and enjoy the afternoon for the last total solar eclipse of a lifetime for many.

I'm sorry, did that sound morbid or nihilistic? "Last total solar eclipse of a lifetime?" Well, unless you're a healthy Millennial, Gen Z or Gen Alpha (or a vampire planning to travel the world in search of one), this is it. 

And maybe, just maybe, that's a cause for pause, Boomers and Gen X (of which I'm a member of the latter).

The above quote, made popular by actor Brandon Lee--son of martial artist Bruce Lee, has been a particular favorite of mine. It's so easy for many of us to assume tomorrow will come, to assume someone--or some thing--will always be in our lives.

This eclipse is a reminder that for as plentiful as these encounters and experiences seem, they are--indeed--finite. In that, I hope Heaven has an end-of-life summary, like Spotify or Twitch's year-end summary, that tells you how many times you listened to a particular song. How many times did you watch your favorite film, how many ice cream cones did you eat, or how many miles did you walk in your favorite park? As someone with a rigorous--yet monotonous--routine, I think about such things all the time. Up at 6AM, check the day's schedule, read and answer emails, doom-scroll Reddit, wash dishes, eat breakfast, work on projects, annoy the angels, eat lunch, do chores, work on projects, eat dinner, bug the angels s'more, watch something on Kanopy or listen to a book on Libby, doom-scroll Reddit once again for good measure, sleep. That's it, that's the routine, but for how much longer? Thirty more years? Ten? Three months? Two days?

Hold tight. I'm going to circle back around to this thought in a bit. For now, let's move on.

In The Beginning
According to Judeo-Christian mythology, Lucifer fell to Earth after being defeated by Archangel Michael. The naughty angel, said to be consumed by pride and desire for the divine throne, landed on a blackberry bush. He cursed it, spat on it, stomped it with his hooves, and then urinated on it to show his utter disdain for the prickly bramble. In all, that fateful October 11th was a no good, very bad day for who would become God's archnemesis and humanity's fall guy for all eternity.

Early Christians loved this story so much, they decided to deem Lucifer's eviction from Heaven a holy day. To add salt to the fallen angel's wounds, the Christians named this holy day of October 11 “Michael’s Mass.” But when the first European countries made the switch from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar in 1582, Michael’s Mass--now "Michaelmas"--was moved up from October 11 to September 29, and European Christians still celebrate it to this day.

Dancing On The Head Of A Pin
But if you give just one angel his holy day, all the other angels are gonna start huffing and complaining. Thunder starts rumbling, lightning starts streaking, a village goes up in flames, and then nobody’s happy. Gabriel and Raphael were lucky enough, as they had stellar public relations with the humans. The two angels would be awarded their own feast days in the spring and autumn, respectively. Alongside Michael, that's only three angels, though, and we all know there’s a hell of a lot more angels than that, pardon my language.