An evening eclipse in Galway

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It was a strange sight as an orderly queue formed near the entrance to Mutton Island causeway and lighthouse and backed up onto Grattan road. People spilled onto the road here and there—maybe as many as fifteen hundred or two thousand people. All—queuing for two euro sunglasses on sale from the kindly hearts at the Galway astrological society. After collecting their wares some lined the causeway while others stretched out on the grassy soccer pitches nearby that most Galwegians still call “The Swamp” down by the Claddagh. A sea of green prone to flooding hemmed in by the Atlantic Ocean and the furious formation of the river Corrib. Most were gazing up at the sky where stringy white clouds and the sun were engaged in a flirtatious game of hide and seek.

The life-force of the throng was relaxed, warm and complementary to the good vibrations feeding the breeze. It wasn’t so much a crowd as a congregation or certainly felt that way to me. A spontaneous sort of congregation of people living in Galway and an up-to-date snapshot of the city’s current make-up, which to my eyes seems to have moved from majority to slightly minority Irish. Galway is what it is nowadays and its unlikely to change anytime soon.

I was a little early for the mass service in the sky—which Galway astrological society assured everyone would kick off sometime after six o’clock. And which would continue for the same length of time as the funeral of someone well loved in a parish and where both the sun and moon would be making glowing eulogies. It struck me that everyone present understood—on some level—that something greater than themselves exists in this world and perhaps this explained the chalice filling energy. All of us part of a broken humanity in search of inner humanity by chiselling out a little of our own divinity. The evening eclipse a reminder of Himself’s precise, timely presence everywhere but invisibly cloaked by a world over-stocked in Apple wrist-watches with faulty divine GPS settings.

There was a certain subliminal oneness or search for suchness to the whole panorama around me as my elbows found a piece of unoccupied steel railing halfway out the causeway. The waves lapped against the concrete at an octave or two above gentle and the sun shone brightly when it broke from the cloud cover. Peace slowly seeped in through my runners and inched its way up. I watched as three young but serious looking student types sat with legs crossed on the path in a semi-circle and earnestly recorded their emerging thoughts to the pages of their journals. Two young lads and a girl.

I turned back to the sea and Galway Bay. Gradually, the evening light began to shadow as if a twelve hour day was now condensing down into four or five. The astrological boffins promised a 95 or 97% eclipse. I filled up the peace tank to about the belly-button but stopped at this high-tide water mark for fear my lungs caught wind of developments and took a vote to abruptly quit cigarettes and swim to the nearest smokefree shore before I’d chance to say a proper goodbye to my L&M Blues. A quiet reminder of the pieces of shadow that refuse the easy road and gentle causeway to lighthouse integration, I suppose.

The road and footpath was filling up with two euro sunglasses directed towards the sun and the excited noise and laughter of a few minutes earlier settled down into a more muted hush. Looking around the whole scene brought to mind a couple of verses from an old Bell X1 song—“ The End is Nigh”.

These collective moments of “what’s it all mean?” are few and far between in Galway and further afield nowadays. It was nice to see and feel part of for a few minutes. I’ve written more than a few pieces after visits to Mutton Island over the last few years, shadowier pieces like Somewhere Else so this place is a regular stop off point on my quirky, self discovery road-trips into the unknowns of myself. Often, I’m pulled here like a magnet in the depths of night but at other times need to force myself to walk the single kilometre out and back in the sunshine.

About halfway through the eclipse mass I made my excuses and began to leave. Walking up through the Claddagh and back into town to grab a coffee. I found a shop and handed over the price of a cappuccino to a young fella with lime green hair, matching coloured fingernails and some class of an engagement or wedding ring hanging from his lower lip. Even in those few transactional seconds I had a sense he was friendly, helpful, a little lost maybe and vibrationally different to me. A bit like many in the two euro glasses crowd—swimming in an energetic pool I didn’t fully recognise or resonate with particularly. Not bad different or dangerous different just different. Coffee in hand I walked outside and lit a cigarette and stood awhile. Everywhere people were now stood still—mesmerised by the sun and moon in the sky approaching their sermon.

Cigarette smoked and coffee half drank, I began making my way back to the car. I had seen and felt the 97% shadows in the skies above Mutton Island and Galway bay on a few occasions already and wasn’t going back there, even for a few minutes, for love nor money on this evening. So, I just waited patiently in the car for the sun to finish its business and hop into the passenger seat beside me and then made my way out of the Claddagh through the evening eclipse traffic.

I was glad I came.

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