Celestial Objects

For every day since I can remember, I have been told to never look straight at the Sun.

“It will burn your eyes”, my teachers told me.

“You’ll go blind,” someone warned as my elementary school prepared to catch a glimpse of an eclipse.

And for as long as the string of my memory extends, I have listened totally and completely. Of course, there were a few times that I, in my youthful wisdom, decided that no one could tell me what to look at, because I was apparently almighty and not even a celestial object could bring about my downfall. In those moments, I looked straight into the Sun and dared it to even think about blinding me.

As evidenced by the retainment of my sight, I did not go blind. But as I look back, I have to wonder if anyone has done the same. Is there anyone who could withstand the glare of the Sun? Could one, without sunglasses, have a staring competition at it?

These foolish thoughts then gave way to another: if no one can gaze at the Sun without a lens to look through, has it ever been seen?

That question, if taken literally, might cause some to look at me and advise that I use a dictionary to look up the definition of “seeing”. However, the seeing I’m referring to is one a little deeper than surface level.

I have frequently seen depictions of the Sun. It is usually wearing sunglasses - ironically, I assume. Still, it is odd that this implies that even the Sun cannot see itself without being blinded.

The Sun is millions of miles away from Earth. It’s common knowledge now that the Sun is the source of all of Earth’s life. Our planet may be special on its own, but without the Sun to bring out its beauty, it is nothing but a cold block of frozen land and water. Still, with all of that distance separating us, what is to inform the Sun that we would not be alive without it? It is not only Earth that depends on soaking up the Sun’s rays; the Moon reflects the Sun’s light. So not must the Sun burn all day, but it must continue burning to illuminate our night. The Sun is always there. Always working, always burning. It must know how helpful it is, right?

Then I learned that the Sun is just a star in the sky.

To us, the Sun is the center of the universe. It is the bringer of hope and the seasons. It is the radiance waiting behind every stormcloud. But to it, it is only another star, and there must be trillions of others that exist. It cannot see all that it gives us. It cannot hear the songs in which it’s mentioned, or the myths about how it’s godlike in wonder, or know that there are little seeds that wake up every day in hopes of catching a glimpse of its warm rays. It cannot see how the Earth marvels in its beauty, or how it gives light to the Moon.

All it knows is that it is a star in the galaxy, and that it must burn and burn until it explodes, scattering its remnants across the universe.

No one really knows how bright the Sun is.

Especially not the Sun itself.