Over the weekend, the sun did something that it does frequently but infrequently with such dire consequences. It had a fit. A few coronal mass ejections—those enormous, bright bursts of magnetized plasma—slipped off the surface of the sun and started to drift toward us. Forecasters predict that the majority of that material will pass just north of Earth. However, the phrase “just north” is ambiguous in space-weather terminology. If there is enough of it, the planet’s magnetic field could still be clipped, which would be interesting in two very different ways. The first is lovely. Some people find the second to be truly unpleasant.
On the plus side, the aurora borealis might appear in unexpected places. Through Monday and Tuesday, minor G1 conditions are predicted by NOAA’s Space Weather Prediction Center, with a remote possibility of moving into G2. The northern lights have a way of surprising people, but that’s by no means a major event. Between 10 p.m. and 2 a.m. local time, anyone who lives close to the Canadian border—Montana, North Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, and Maine—has a good chance of catching something. Anyone who has chased auroras knows that avoiding the orange wash of streetlights is the trick. A field, a lake, a dim rural road. The aurora frequently begins as a faint smudge that you nearly mistake for cloud cover before abruptly organizing itself into ribbons.
Forecasters believe that this one won’t be historic. However, it need not be. The standard for “worth driving out for” has changed since the 2024 storms spoiled everyone. In Florida, people witnessed curtains of pink light, which was practically unheard of.
Then there is the other side of the story, which receives more attention in pharmacies and waiting rooms but less attention in the scientific press. There is more to a geomagnetic storm than just sky painting. Many people claim to be able to feel it, and it shakes the magnetosphere. According to RBC-Ukraine, the Space Weather Prediction Center has been meticulously charting the upcoming days. Monday peaks at G1, a five-point red-level disturbance. Around four on Tuesday and Wednesday, things start to get quieter. Things should settle by Thursday or Friday.
Scientists continue to debate whether the body truly reacts to magnetic fluctuations. The evidence is inconveniently weak and inconsistent. However, if you ask a neurologist in Helsinki or a cardiologist in Kyiv, you’ll frequently receive a shrug and the response, “Well, the patients say it’s real.” Migraines, blood pressure spikes, a foggy fatigue that doesn’t quite match the day’s actual exertion. When a storm is predicted, doctors discreetly advise people who have recently undergone surgery, have high blood pressure, are elderly, or are pregnant.
It’s not glamorous advice for the next few days. Have some water. Don’t drink the third cup of coffee. Avoid starting a new exercise regimen this week. Reduce your intake of salty foods. At two in the morning, keep your blood pressure medication handy. It’s the kind of minor, useful care that often matters more than people realize, but none of this is dramatic or makes headlines.
It’s difficult to ignore how the world is divided by the same event. In the hopes of seeing green ribbons in the sky, one person takes a thermos and drives in the direction of darkness. Another shuts the curtains, takes an ibuprofen, and bides their time. They are both reacting to the same sun in different ways.
