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Eclipsing All Else

Julie Christoph
Aug 29
2 min read

We did successfully see the total solar eclipse in Spain. With a group of about 200 others from around the world, we hiked up a bluff and set up chairs in the 100°F/38°C heat for a few hours to see the sun gradually disappear and then reappear. We all spontaneously clapped upon the sun's return; it was a relief, even though we had all made the effort to go see what we knew would be an aberration.


The word "eclipse" has been in the English language for at least 650 years; the Oxford English Dictionary's first recorded usage is from Chaucer ("Whan þe moone is in the eclips") in his translation of Boethius's The Consolation of Philosophy.


Seeing the sun's corona for even a couple of minutes was a moment of sublime connection, to Chaucer and all the people who have preceded us, and to the universe. That brief time of being able to see the corona without apparatus was like sneaking a glance at behind the curtain.


Up on the bluff, we chatted with our neighbor, a young man from Venezuela, working in health insurance in Switzerland, who had traveled 19 hours by bus to see and photograph the sight. A family from France behind us appreciated our offer, in French, of our extra glasses. The hotel receiptionist told me the next day that she'd returned to her village to see it with her family. Later that week, we visited a ruined castle and found a discarded pair of eclipse glasses in the grass. The EMOZ (Educational Museum of Origami in Zaragoza) displayed an origami eclipse model. In our own ways, we felt drawn to see this event that had been foretold.


But it came, regardless of whether it was welcome. For city managers in the totality, it had--for months--been as though they were hosting the World Cup, even though they'd never applied for the extra work. Eclipse signs around town offered safety tips. Store windows apologized that eclipse glasses were sold out. Hotels were booked. Highway signs for days before had warned, "Conduciendo ni fotos ni videos," "Con eclipse encender luces cruce." And for good reason: As we looked down from the bluff in the moments during the eclipse, trucks were still about their regular day's driving, albeit with lights on.


Upon my return to the United States, I shared photos of the eclipse with my class of English language learners, a heterogeneous group of immigrants speaking 10 languages from four continents. Several had seen eclipses, themselves. Several had been told that it's dangerous to see an eclipse, especially for pregnant women.


It's a big world, and there are so many different ways of languaging and being in it.




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