One piece of advice really jumped out at me: don't look at the sun! Or, rather...you might go blind so...DON'T LOOK AT THE SUN! The only way around this fate was to buy Special Eclipse Glasses, a fishy concept if I ever heard of one. It seemed unlikely to me for this to be a scam
But on the other hand, SPECIAL ECLIPSE GLASSES?!? Because the sun was somehow going to become brighter when it was partially blocked?
(Scam!)
How did our ancestors ever see an eclipse, then? Surely someone looked first.
(SCAM!)
Was Medusa herself hanging out on the moon, sitting Earth-side?
(Scaaaaaam!)
Maybe I could get away with a 'Presidential' glance...
I had some questions but I thought I had the answers. Just to double check, I opened up Google and did a little more research.
My main question was a simple one: was the sun on eclipse day any worse to look at compared to, say, every other day of my entire life, a life I'd lived free of the knowledge that I was just a quick glance away from permanent blindness? 'No' was my gut reaction. Do baseball outfielders go blind looking up for fly balls?
My logic for this gut reaction was based on my understanding of the 'extreme' cases. On one extreme (as in, every day, ever), I knew the sun was a no-no to look at. But it wasn't going to leave me blind, either. On the other extreme (the four minute block of time during the total eclipse) the sun was perfectly safe to stare at. In between these end points, a transition took the sun from 'do not look!' to 'OK, look!'. Nothing flips so quickly- even a car going from zero to sixty in a commercial hits every number in between- so I figured a 'partial eclipse' fell somewhere in the middle of a continuum.
My early search efforts failed to confirm my instincts. Each new article was as grim as the last: look up = go blind. It struck me as ridiculous, of course, and I forged on, seeking reassurance from science (or faith, if necessary) to tell me only what I wanted to hear before I convinced myself to make what could turn out to be My One Last Look at the sun giving life to this great, green, and slowly heating planet (2).
Finally, I found the article I was looking for. Looking at the sun during the eclipse, it stated, was in no way any different from looking at it sans lunar obstruction. The reason many expressed fears about blindness, this article suggested, was because on eclipse days people were tempted to look at the sun. All the sensational articles I had seen were only helpful reminders for those who would otherwise stare at the sun all day in a vain attempt to see the eclipse.
Interesting explanation. I suppose it could even be true. Sometimes, the entire internet conspires to deliver a consistent message intended to help the commoner, you know?
Call me cynical, though, because I actually have another reason explaining the existence of all these articles. Let's state it as an axiom:
'Articles suggesting a cause for blindness get more clicks than those making no remark on the future of your eyesight.'
Right?
This whole thing reminds me of a story I read when I was a kid about an old Hungarian song called 'Gloomy Sunday'. Apparently, listening to the song was implicated as a cause for a number of suicides during the time. The excitement generated about the 'suicide song' was enough to convince many people to listen it. Artists like Billie Holliday produced cover versions of the song. But in due time, the links to suicide were proven spurious at best and the buzz around the song faded from memory (3).
Clickbait is a far older phenomenon than the internet. But no doubt about it, the concept is helped along (and perhaps has achieved immortality) by the way most use The Good Old Interwebs. With the magic of hyperlinks , a far more interesting article is always just a click of the mouse away! (insert 3)
But is this so bad? Most articles do not make claims as ridiculous as 'Gloomy Sunday' (click this link to learn how to levitate!) Surely, there is some value to all this content out there- especially if some people had their eyesight saved by reading those same articles I complained about at the top. In this case, perhaps my minor inconvenience is a small price to pay.
And yet, I do wonder what the cost of all this clickbait is. I didn't know right away but kept my mind working on it. If the cost isn't evident, after all, it's probably hidden. As I stared at the sun during the eclipse, I suddenly realized what one cost was: whatever articles the clickbait kept me from reading. Like the way the moon becomes more interesting during an eclipse merely because of what it blocks, clickbait captures my attention only because of all the useful links I've clicked on in the past.
Each time I end up reading some silly little article or watching some pointless video, I'm also prevented from reading a life-affirming piece. These energy-creating links are out there, somewhere, and I want to find them. But just like anyone else, when the new exciting thing floats by I find it difficult to ignore. What's bright always seems to generate light, I suppose, even though I know deep down a reflection usually creates the same effect.
Footnotes / imagined complaints
0. Sunday, gloomy Sunday...
Actually, that's not how the song goes.
Here is the Wikipedia entry about the song.
1. Well, for some lifetimes...
The next one is in 2024.
2. Speaking of global warming...
Is it a logical inconsistency to see climate change deniers looking up at the perfectly predicted solar eclipse? It seems like it (though when I think about it 'logically', I suspect it is probably not).
3. Spurious At Best?
This would be a great name for something.
Not this blog, though.
