"Where is she going?": The Venus Transit of 2012

She was a breathtaking sight to behold. The Venus Transit took place on June 5^th shortly after 5 pm (CDT) in Chicago. Venus resembled a tiny black mole or speck against a smooth red surface as she traced the burning solar surface of the brightest star in our solar system. She glided gracefully in an East-to-West direction across the sun’s scorching façade. Her slow dance lasted nearly 7 hours before she moved on to the other side of the world. I caught a glimpse of Venus’ dark, regal glory for a few heavenly minutes yesterday evening. She is a goddess and she never looked more spectacular in the celestial expanse.   

I was one of thousands of skywatchers who headed over to The Adler Planetarium yesterday afternoon to observe the transit of Venus. For almost 2 weeks, I read everything I could lay my hands on regarding the rare astronomical event scheduled to take place on June 5^th at 6:09 p.m. EDT (2209 GMT) in the Northern Hemisphere. A Venus Transit occurs when Venus passes directly between the sun and Earth. During the transit, Venus appears as a small black dot superimposed against the sun’s fiery exterior. Transits of Venus occur in pairs, with 8 years in between. The first Venus Transit occurred on June 8^th in 2004. The last transit was yesterday and today, June 6, 2012, which completed the pairs of transits. It was the last Venus Transit of the 21^st century and our lifetime. There won’t be another Venus Transit until December 10-11, 2117.

There was no way I was going to miss catching sight of Venus in all her splendid glory during the transit. I missed her in 2004, and I would never have the opportunity to watch her voyage across our solar disc again in this lifetime. I ventured to the Adler, which was the best place to observe the Venus Transit. I have a severe aversion to massive crowds and avoid them like blind dates, unless I’m joining a protest. People tend to crowd together and shuffle along aimlessly, which exasperates me to no end. Plus, I’m vertically challenged and naturally clumsy, which always works against me in crowded situations. But I threw caution to the wind and dutifully followed the great throng of people vying for a glimpse of Venus. When I arrived at the Adler, I died a little inside. There were people milling about on every square inch of the lawn and sidewalks. Where was I going to behold Venus' dimensions? I immediately became annoyed. But then I realized it was my fault for not camping out overnight. Clearly. Who knew thousands of people were going to take this once-in-a-lifetime celestial spectacle so seriously?   

The Adler Planetarium also was unprepared for the massive number of people streaming in to observe the Venus Transit. They sold out of disposable eclipse shades as soon as I arrived, which I didn’t appreciate. But I wasn’t going to be foiled by the Adler’s failure to fully prepare for this historic event. I simply headed outside to stand in one of the many lines that had been arranged for people to take turns and view Venus through a filtered telescope. It was there that I saw her.

An older woman overheard my sarcastic comment about how people jump in lines that aren’t even lines. In the back of my mind, I was thinking about a George Lopez skit regarding Mexicans who get in lines when they see lines without bothering to ask what the lines are for in the first place. She assured me I was in a line to view Venus through a filtered telescope. She held a pair of the coveted disposable eclipse shades the Adler had failed to stock in large volumes. She must have noticed a trace of dejection upon my face because she offered me her eclipse shades. I masked my euphoria and accepted her offer in a composed manner. I briefly considered taking off at a high speed with the shades but instantly realized I wouldn’t get far with so many people in the way. Besides, I was wearing heels and a skirt: a combination guaranteed to cause me to stumble and flash unsuspecting bystanders.      

I slid on the pair of disposable eclipse shades. My heart began to wobble erratically in my chest. They felt surprisingly light and flimsy on my face. I tilted my head back gently and peered directly into the blazing sun. The azure, cloudless sky was the perfect backdrop for the Venus Transit. I didn’t see her at first. "Oh Venus, where art thou?" I asked underneath my breath. The older woman told me to look toward the top, upper-right portion of the sun. And there she was like a perfect black pearl tucked near the sun's harsh edge. Forgetting my manners, I squealed: "She looks gorgeous! You're a stunning goddess!" Several onlookers chuckled at my observations. I didn't want to avert my gaze from her fine beauty, but I had to return the glasses. I thanked the older woman and continued to wait in line. 

Venus was a breathtaking sight to behold. During her transit, I felt small and incredibly insignificant yet connected to everything. Yes, I am smaller than a tiny dot. We all are: the universe is a much larger place than our imaginations can conceive and measure. But we are also a part of it and its awe-inspiring energy and beauty. We can't exist without each other: everything in existence is connected. I know I won't be around for the next Venus Transit in 105 years, which is why I'm glad I witnessed Venus' rare passage in this lifetime.