During the last hour, I have had the privilege of viewing the most spectacular display of the Aurora Borealis which I can ever recall. The impressiveness of this particular instance was not due so much to intricate variety of color, which characterizes most of the memorable sightings in my past experience, but rather sheer magnitude and motion. I wish to document the experience.
I presently live about twenty miles east of the city of Fairbanks, Alaska, residing in a small cabin on the edge of my parent's property. At approximately 1:00 am tonight (April 5, 2010, AKST) I had become very tired after a long day of church, homework, and recreation, and I was ready to turn in for the day. I stepped out of my cabin for a brief breath of fresh air.
After stepping out, I was surprised because it seemed brighter out than when I had been outside only an hour or so before. I looked straight up, and a green ribbon was stretched from east to west across the star-studded sky, and it was bending in a slow rhythm, a little to the north, and then to south, and back again, curving like a snake. Very soon, splashing waves of pink began to race along the edge of this ribbon, contorting its path.
I went back inside my cabin to get a coat, and when I came back I saw a huge wave of green and pink coming along the horizon from the north. The wave began to form a distinct, but active, pattern of frequency, similar to what you might see looking at the screen of an oscilloscope, almost like the pattern of a recorded voice. Again, these patterns were racing across the sky, faster than I had ever seen during any of my previous sightings of the Aurora.
After a few minutes, these "signals" began to grow in size and intensity. I realized that the color in the north, as well as that directly overhead, was beginning to cover the majority of the sky. Sensing, remarkable as it seemed, that the best of the viewing was yet to come, I determined to walk to my parents' home and see if anyone else was awake. Upon arrival I found that my mother was awake, and I took the liberty of waking my sister.
After going back outside, we saw that the entire sky had been set aflame in a glorious blaze of green fire. At first, it looked more like patches of a neon thunder, flickering on and off in a synchronized chorus of light. But shortly, the direction of the moving light changed, so that it looked as though we were standing in the center of a bonfire, with the "flames" on all sides stretching up directly overhead.
Then the direction of the light seemed to change, and again the sky divided up into patches of green, flickering on and off. But these bursts of energy seemed to traveling in one direction, as though a blanket of green energy was rolling across the hemisphere.
Gradually, the motion slowed until the glow settled around the horizon. Then the remaining hue vanished, fading away like the final scene of an old movie.
I look forward tomorrow to getting the scientific explanation of this phenomenon, which will likely be a hot topic around Fairbanks. At the moment, however, my thoughts turn to its teleological significance. Why is it that God graced us with such an energetic display of the aurora tonight?
Doubtlessly, I will have some very pleasant meditation on the subject over the next few days. My working theory, however, is that God is a musician of sorts. Tonight, God's instrument of choice was the Aurora, and he put on a grand symphony, not of sound, but of light and energy. And humanity was audience. At least, those of humanity fortunate enough to be awake for the show.
I presently live about twenty miles east of the city of Fairbanks, Alaska, residing in a small cabin on the edge of my parent's property. At approximately 1:00 am tonight (April 5, 2010, AKST) I had become very tired after a long day of church, homework, and recreation, and I was ready to turn in for the day. I stepped out of my cabin for a brief breath of fresh air.
After stepping out, I was surprised because it seemed brighter out than when I had been outside only an hour or so before. I looked straight up, and a green ribbon was stretched from east to west across the star-studded sky, and it was bending in a slow rhythm, a little to the north, and then to south, and back again, curving like a snake. Very soon, splashing waves of pink began to race along the edge of this ribbon, contorting its path.
I went back inside my cabin to get a coat, and when I came back I saw a huge wave of green and pink coming along the horizon from the north. The wave began to form a distinct, but active, pattern of frequency, similar to what you might see looking at the screen of an oscilloscope, almost like the pattern of a recorded voice. Again, these patterns were racing across the sky, faster than I had ever seen during any of my previous sightings of the Aurora.
After a few minutes, these "signals" began to grow in size and intensity. I realized that the color in the north, as well as that directly overhead, was beginning to cover the majority of the sky. Sensing, remarkable as it seemed, that the best of the viewing was yet to come, I determined to walk to my parents' home and see if anyone else was awake. Upon arrival I found that my mother was awake, and I took the liberty of waking my sister.
After going back outside, we saw that the entire sky had been set aflame in a glorious blaze of green fire. At first, it looked more like patches of a neon thunder, flickering on and off in a synchronized chorus of light. But shortly, the direction of the moving light changed, so that it looked as though we were standing in the center of a bonfire, with the "flames" on all sides stretching up directly overhead.
Then the direction of the light seemed to change, and again the sky divided up into patches of green, flickering on and off. But these bursts of energy seemed to traveling in one direction, as though a blanket of green energy was rolling across the hemisphere.
Gradually, the motion slowed until the glow settled around the horizon. Then the remaining hue vanished, fading away like the final scene of an old movie.
I look forward tomorrow to getting the scientific explanation of this phenomenon, which will likely be a hot topic around Fairbanks. At the moment, however, my thoughts turn to its teleological significance. Why is it that God graced us with such an energetic display of the aurora tonight?
Doubtlessly, I will have some very pleasant meditation on the subject over the next few days. My working theory, however, is that God is a musician of sorts. Tonight, God's instrument of choice was the Aurora, and he put on a grand symphony, not of sound, but of light and energy. And humanity was audience. At least, those of humanity fortunate enough to be awake for the show.
Leave a comment