I doubt I could have gotten these photos without the cloud cover; I attempted to hold the solar filter over the iPhone’s camera lens, and it was a mess.

Being human means forgetting. We have almost as many names for forgetting as the mythical eskimo has for snow. The most commonly called-out form of amnesia among my somewhat geeky circle is named after a prominent physicist; Gell-Mann Amnesia is almost a kind of logical fallacy. We read something in the newspaper, or hear it on the news, and it happens to be something we’re familiar with. Perhaps it’s to do with our actual profession, or a dedicated hobby, or perhaps it’s to do with where we live or maybe even an event we took part in.

We listen to that news, recognize, perhaps angrily, that they not only got it wrong but that got it absolutely in reverse—Michael Crichton, in his famous explanation of Gell-Mann Amnesia called it “wet streets cause rain”—and then move on to news about something we’re not familiar with.

And then trust that they got it right. We completely forget how wrong they were ten seconds ago.

Another form of amnesia is the But what have you done for me lately amnesia. Just because someone’s been beneficial to us in the past, if they’re not being beneficial to us now we discount them. This can be a reasonable or unreasonable form of amnesia depending on the circumstances.

There’s another form of amnesia that is somewhat related to what have you done for me lately, a sort of in-the-moment amnesia bordering on ingratitude, where what’s happening now is perceived as unrelated to what happened in the past. We can thank God one moment and then forget all about Him minutes later.

The Monday, April 8, eclipse last year happened to go directly over my house at about lunchtime. I had about a three minute totality. About a week out from the eclipse the weather forecasts started coming in and even up to a few days beforehand the forecast was for full clouds and heavy rain on Monday and Tuesday. I suspect a lot of people canceled their trips or moved them to a different locale with better forecasts. I did not—part of the appeal of this eclipse was that I could literally see it from my backyard. So, I prayed for better weather and remained in the area.

The diamond ring effect through a series of glorious—literally—clouds.

The morning of the eclipse it was overcast; it remained overcast right up until about half an hour before totality. At that point I went outside to see what I could see and it turned out that the sun was often completely unobstructed. The clouds were fast-moving, occasionally covering the sun but often leaving it completely free. I was able to see the eclipse not only through eclipse glasses but through my binoculars with solar filters. I strongly recommend binoculars and solar filters if you ever have the opportunity to view an eclipse.

I was even occasionally able to look directly at the sun—without the binoculars, of course—because it was obscured but not blocked by clouds. It was a wonderful experience. My prayers had been answered, with a yes, and it was glorious.

The next day it was completely overcast and raining throughout the day. Among the many people visiting this area to see the eclipse were some acquaintances of mine and we got together for lunch. Of course, they complained about the miserable weather. I said it was beautiful. This was the same weather that had been forecast for the eclipse, and seeing it now, knowing that it had not happened the day before, it was absolutely joyful.

Because it could have happened yesterday and had not, and we had seen the eclipse even better than I’d expected.

They acknowledged it, and in a few minutes were back to complaining about the miserable weather. I understand. It’s human. And in the grand vision it’s a trivial, if literally astronomical, gift. But it is also a form of amnesia that we engage in daily. It does not serve us well.