Day 840 – Treasures and Tidal Waves

Sunday, May 7, 2023

I have been reading Howard Carter’s writing on the discovery of King Tut’s tomb. He poked a hole through the wall to the tomb’s antechamber and shown a candle to let the light in. “What do you see?” he was asked.

“Wonderful things,” was the reply. But that isn’t the whole story. There is a backstory as well. Six years of searching and turning up bits and pieces. Being ready to give up and then on one of the last days finding a step. But that is not where I want to delve. Let us go back to the light of the candle and the wonderful things in Carter’s description. There is in his portrayal one of awe and reverence, of coming face to face with events that happened thousands of years before. It is as if time had no meaning. There was a momentary interruption. The people left the tomb, dropping some leaves and flowers on the floor. And then, moments later, to be discovered by Carter. 

His description is one of stunned awe and a sense of reverence as the archaeologist comes face to face with the reality of his discovery. He wrote that nothing prepared him for this.

His account: 

The decisive moment had arrived. With trembling hands I made a tiny breach in the upper left-hand corner. Darkness and blank space, as far as an iron testing-rod could reach, showed that, whatever, lay beyond was empty, and not filled like the passage, we had just cleared. Candle tests were applied as a precaution against possible, foul gases, and then, widening the hole a little, I inserted the candle and peered in, Lord Canarvan, Lady Evelyn and Callendar standing anxiously beside me to hear the verdict. At first I could see nothing, the hot air escaping from the chamber causing the candle flame to flicker, but presently, as my eyes grew accustomed to the light, details of the room within emerged slowly from the mist, strange animals, statues, and gold – everywhere the glint of gold. For the moment – an eternity, it must’ve seem to the others standing by – I was struck dumb with amazement, and when Lord Carnarvon, unable to stand the suspense any longer, inquired anxiously, “Can you see anything?” it was all I could do to get out the words, “Yes, wonderful things.” Then, widening the hole, a little further, so that we both could see, we inserted an electric torch.

Howard Carter, “The Tomb of Tutankhamen”, (1972) c1954 page 35. Originally published in three volumes 1923, 1927, 1933

Chris Naunton writes in his book, “Searching for The Lost Tombs of Egypt” of a similar experience when he was invited to glimpse KV 63 before the items were removed and catalogued. The year was 2006. It was the Italian Archaeological Mission to Luxor directed by Dr. Francesco Tiradritte that invited him.

 I stood with the others at the bottom of the shaft, a few meters away from the material itself, and gawped, rooted to the spot. … I wasn’t conscious of having stood back, but I obviously had, too nervous, reverent even, to get any closer. It was like meeting an ancient past I had until then known only from a distance …

Chris Naunton, “Searching For The Lost Tombs of Egypt”, (2018), page 31

This reminds me of accounts I have read of people when facing a tidal wave. They stand in awe of the massive wall of water rushing at them. There is no attempt to run because there is no time or place to run to. The sight is overwhelming and truly awful as in “filled with awe.”  Yes it is different in a terrifying way, but it is a moment where time has little meaning.

Both Howard Carter and Chris Naunton got to experience that timelessness, that momentary experience where everything stopped, or at least slowed down. Athletes may experience that moment too. Reaching for that ball, making that shot, or that block. It’s a split second if that, but everything happens on instinct and muscle memory. In that instant, everything vanishes, but the one thing.

I spoke with Steve Strachan. He was the fullback for Boston in the game where Doug Flutie in the closing seconds threw a Hail-Mary 55 yard pass that won the game. He told me how he had been high-lowed by two of the Miami players as he went downfield for the ball. He watched the ball sail over head. He saw the player make the catch and fall down in the end-zone. He told me he looked into that player’s eyes. They locked eyes, “and for that split second, that second and a half, we were the only two players on the field that knew we had won the game.”

Instances of time interrupted, or stopped. A momentary interruption in our perception of the changing normal progression of events we call time. Where that progression has little or no meaning. The people walked out of the tomb, sealing it forever. Then others walked in and picked up where the mourners had left off.

The wide receiver who made the famous catch as time expired in the Colorado Michigan game at Michigan said the oddest thing was when he stood up and heard the silence of 102,000 people in that stadium.

Gary Gait when he made the leap over the crease from behind the goal to shovel pass the shot in the NCAA Lacrosse Championship said that the oddest thing was the silence as everyone was watching the replay to understand what he had done.

Moments in time – halted, slowed, interrupted. I’ve experienced a few in my lifetime. Nothing like what I recounted here, but for me, they were special. Not that anyone else knew, but for that split second – time stopped. The world went away and I acted, and experienced, that unique sense of awe.