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This week’s total eclipse was cooler than I thought it would be. Not so much for the obvious reasons (yes, seeing the corona was incredible!) but because of the community nature of the event.
At a single moment in time, nearly everyone in our region—in much of our state—was staring up in the sky oohing and aahing over a natural phenomenon most of us will only see once in our lives.
I watched from Monument Circle. Several co-workers and I sat on the steps of the Soldiers and Sailors Monument with our glasses on and our phone cameras poised, murmuring the same things as those around.
“I thought it would get dark faster.”
“When will it be safe to take off our glasses?”
“Do you feel it getting colder?”
“Is this going to mess up my camera?”
But the highlight came as the moon fully slipped in front of the sun and the hundreds of people around us cheered. Hilarious. We cheered the moon’s momentary dominance over the sun.
Then nearly four minutes later, as the first bit of sun reemerged, the crowd (and I) cheered again. Almost like we were worried the sun might not survive, like the rays might never hit the Circle again.
It was so unexpected. And I was delighted to learn that similar cheering took place at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway and at White River State Park and at so many other places where people gathered to watch the eclipse.
I had not started the day thinking that seeing the eclipse with a large group of people mattered. In fact, shortly before my colleagues and I headed outside, we were planning to go to the top floor of a nearby parking garage, concerned that tall buildings downtown might block our view.
But one look at the crowds gathered on the Circle changed our minds. We were pulled to join them—and I’m so glad we did.
That crowd just seemed joyous. Maybe it was the rarity of the moment. Maybe it’s because the day truly felt like spring, and we were all just itching to spend a little time in the sun (and the moon). Maybe it’s that we’re all spending too much time on our devices or working remotely or just buried in our work wherever we’re doing it and needed a break to be together.
Maybe it’s “collective effervescence,” a term coined in 1912 by French sociologist Émile Durkheim that has come to mean a state of intense shared emotional reaction that can occur at rallies, rituals, celebrations and other events. “The very fact of assembling is an exceptionally powerful stimulant,” he wrote. “Once the individuals are assembled, their proximity generates a kind of electricity that quickly transports them to an extraordinary degree of exaltation.”
I’m not an especially philosophical person. I’m pretty practical. And so this is not the kind of thing I spend a lot of time thinking about.
But watching the eclipse from Monument Circle this week has me thinking about somewhat similar experiences. Live music is more fun when you can see the people around you dancing and singing. A close basketball game is more exciting when you feel the emotions of the crowd rising and falling with every play. Even fireworks appear more beautiful when you can hear the delight in the laughs of kids nearby.
I hope you enjoyed the eclipse. And I hope you experienced collective effervescence as I did. It certainly made the day more special.•
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Weidenbener is editor of IBJ. Reach her at lweidenbener@ibj.com.
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