Cirque du Soleil, a Lunar Eclipse. and Asylum Street

My wife and I watched Cirque du Soleil's current show, "Ovo," under a tent in Hartford last night. The show's muddled ecological theme couldn't obscure the talents of Cirque's assembled acrobats and aerialists. Their uniquely impressive skills were massively entertaining and remarkably well sustained for the two-and-one-half-hour spectacle. As a pleasant, uplifting diversion, we couldn't have asked for anything more.

The show also accomplished something else that I find useful to remember. What we witnessed last night connected to experiences humankind has shared since antiquity. The jumps, swings, and bends have a history that embrace various cultures, time periods, and perspectives. For once, we could sit with pleasure, knowing these gymnasts created magic beyond algorithmic logic's increasingly rigid grasp.

My wife and I were inside the big top during a partial lunar eclipse in North America. This event was particularly unusual because the moon, for reasons more complicated than I can explain, appeared "magnified." We did see the moon on our return drive through the Connecticut night, and took comfort that, like the ancients, we could track our direction by our knowledge of its celestial position.

On our way home, Amy and I noted one of New England's charms is its idiosyncratic street names. We drove along Divinity Street in a strikingly bleak, former manufacturing city. The day's standout name was Asylum Street, in downtown Hartford. It was just a few blocks from the tent where acrobats performed stunts no sane person should ever attempt.