Four minutes and seven seconds
My journey to absorb the powers of the sun ☀️☀️☀️
Welcome to So Relatable, a bi-weekly newsletter that helps creative folks improve their craft, achieve their goals, and eat better snacks. I’m glad you’re here! ✨
In the week leading up to the eclipse, I told everyone I was traveling to the path of totality so I could absorb the powers of the sun. I was only half joking.
Seven years ago, we drove three hours to South Carolina, kayaked for four hours, hiked three miles, and met totality on a shore called Boneyard Beach, where upturned trees lay on their sides, bone-white roots reaching in the wrong direction. I’d never seen a solar eclipse and didn’t yet appreciate its lineage, couldn’t comprehend that I was about to take my place in a long line of humans bowed by a cosmic miracle. Then the moon slid across the sun, a ring appeared in the sky, and day blinked into night. I didn’t fall to my knees on that beach, but I came close.
At the time I was 35 years old, professionally flailing and desperately looking for an actual career. Then: totality. Within a month, I’d accepted a job at the company where I still work, a life-changing decision that altered the trajectory of my life. I asked, the planets aligned, and the universe delivered. In the wake of the 2017 eclipse, I felt powerful and full of potential; in 2024, creatively flailing and in desperate need of new inspiration, I wanted to feel that way again.
For my second eclipse, the path of totality appeared as both map and metaphor—a clean line through the center, cleaving the country in two. Light and dark. Before and after. And me, standing in the Texas Hill Country, surrounded by some of my most beloved friends, face tipped toward a sky crowded with clouds that cleared just in time.
This time, I knew what to expect, how I wanted to feel. The eclipse would be a moment of transition, an opportunity for change. A chance to let go and trust that even when darkness comes, the light is right behind it. When that glittering ring appeared we cheered, our joyful screams echoing across the rolling hills.
Then, a twist.
The next morning, as we were preparing to leave Texas and begin our journey back to North Carolina, our friends received a phone call. Their beloved cat—16 years old, as orange as the sun—had passed away during the night. The light blinked out, but this time it didn't return. In that moment, I understood what the eclipse wanted to tell us.
The tether that holds us here is thin. Every day, we trust that the moon will keep moving, that the sun will rise again. That we’ll get one more day, one more night. Maybe, if we’re lucky, one more eclipse.
The solar eclipse gave us just over four minutes of totality. Practically nothing in the grand scheme of the universe, but we were grateful for every brief and fleeting second.
Because even when the light shines, we can feel the darkness. Even though we know it’s coming, we still hope and cheer and flail and beg and dream.
We hold on to each other for as long as we can.
Relatable Recommendations
Reading: My book club just finished Poverty, By America, which explores all the ways affluent Americans build their wealth on the backs of the poor. Both eye-opening and infuriating, it’s a must-read. Now I’m reading The Great Believers, a novel that takes place in the 1980s and 2015, and explores the lasting impact of the AIDS crisis. Two great books in a row—I’m on a roll!
Scrolling: Less than usual! I decided to take an Instagram break while we were in Texas for the eclipse, and I haven’t felt the need to log on for more than a minute here and there. We’ll see how long this lasts.
Growing: So many things in the garden are budding and blooming, including blackberry flowers, blueberries, the satsuma tree, and one teeny tiny lemon. Sadly, our pepper transplants didn’t make it, so we had to buy a few backups. Next year, we’ll get the timing right.
Eating: Tacos and margaritas at 11:30 in the morning upon our arrival in Austin. An incredible pizza in the Hill Country after a visit to a lovely winery. Group meals at our glamping site’s communal clubhouse. Impatient pour-over coffees, which made me miss my drip machine. And a vacation-sized amount of beer and wine—everything is bigger in Texas, after all.
Feeling: Revived and renewed by the powers of the sun!!! ☀️
Coffee Club Contributions
Thank you to Megan W. for lighting up my Venmo account!
Want to treat me to a ☕️ and support So Relatable? 💛 💃 🙌
Venmo: @Christine-Hennessey or PayPal Me.
Can’t afford a contribution? You can also click the ♡ below, forward this to a friend, or share the link on social media. Every little bit helps!
👋 About Me: I’m Chrissy Hennessey, an enthusiastic snacker and native New Yorker living in coastal North Carolina, where I stayed after earning my MFA. My writing has appeared in a decent number of journals, I’ve received fellowships to some fancy residencies, and I’ve written three novels, all currently unpublished. This newsletter is a passion project I started in 2019 as a way to connect with readers and writers, share my creative journey, and build a community. Thank you for being here!
The Great Believers is INCREDIBLE! Rebecca Makkai has a Substack as well!