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Reflections on Three Days of Blindness—Part I

Thirty years ago I experimented with being blind. I covered my eyes for three days and lived briefly as a blind man.

The questions occurred to me when I was eighteen, several months out of high school, while contemplating my life and the world around me: “What must it be like to live in this world, for people who are blind? I wonder how I would manage if I was blind? I wonder how they manage?”

I would like to share my discoveries from that time with you, the answers that I learned to these questions. Because the answers, I think, have value not only for those who wonder what it might be like to be blind, as I did, but also for anyone wondering about the unknown, frightened perhaps a little about change, or fearful of what the future holds in this life or the next. And for anyone desiring to bridge the gap between themselves and those who are different from them, the results of this little experiment also might be useful.

The means of making myself blind were simple and very effective. First, I covered my eye sockets with cotton balls. Next, I covered over the cotton balls with large gauze pads, and then I used surgical tape to tape down all of the edges of the pads to my face, sealing entirely around the pads which covered my eyes. Lastly, I put on sunglasses. This last step was entirely for cosmetic and reasons of vanity, because, after the first two steps I couldn’t perceive even the tiniest trace of light, shade or shadow, so the sunglasses were completely redundant and superfluous. But they made me look good, so I thought, and I was eighteen after all; sunglasses are cool.

During my three day experiment I kept a detailed journal: tracking my activities, my thoughts and feelings, and my conclusions. It is mainly from this journal that I would like to share with you my journey and discoveries. In some cases, I’ll paraphrase or provide commentary as I look back on the experiment from the vantage point of a forty-eight year old adult, but in most cases I’ll let my original journaling speak for itself, in the original voice as I wrote when I was eighteen. I will set these original entries in quotes, and italicize them, so as to clearly delineate what is from that time, from what is my current commentary.

 

Prelude to Day One of My Experiment with Three Days of Blindness:

“Awaiting blindness, Friday night, February 12, 1988. 11:00pm. is something

            like what I imagine awaiting one’s execution might be like. As I wait, I try

            to indulge my senses as one who was about to die might enjoy and cling to his

            last meal, or his final breath. I’m scared, even though it isn’t permanent. A dark,

            dark prison is what it might be like, or maybe it’s really a doorway to a greater

            consciousness, a larger freedom. Who knows—I don’t. I’m writing this before

            my evening reading and meditation which, when I’m done, will be followed by

            covering my eyes for the duration of three days—a relatively short time but

            enough time, I think, to glimpse into the world of darkness, to somewhat

            feel what it is like not to see. I will uncover my eyes on Monday the 15^th at sun-

            set, on the hill overlooking my home and surrounding neighborhood. Until

            then these pages will be written by a seeing man who doesn’t see. Or does

            he? Goodnight.”

 

Day One of My Experiment with Three Days of Blindness:

            “I am feeling very frustrated. There are so many things I can’t do. I am constantly

            running into things or knocking them over. I’ve broken a glass and spilled a lot

            of water today. Victories include riding my unicycle around the block and walk-

            ing around Safeway to get some whipped cream. In both cases, I was accompan-

            ied by my good friend, Nicole. However, I felt very isolated at the grocery store.

            I can’t help but feel that people with handicaps aren’t liked by those without them.”

 

Looking at this entry and remembering back to that grocery store visit, I can still recall a sense that I had of being looked at in a way that felt like unkindness, and even though I couldn’t see them, I felt that people were uncomfortable with my presence.

            “This is still my first day of blindness. It’s about 6:15pm. I am fairly certain about

            this because I’ve guessed the time within 3 minutes of accuracy throughout the

            day today. The ability to know the time is still amazingly precise even without

            eyesight. I remember when I was younger, closing my eyes and walking slowly

            towards a wall, and I remember as I got closer to the wall, within a few feet of it,

            I could begin to sense that it was there. I could feel a darkness, a slight pressure

            exerted upon my face. The same is true today, but to an even greater degree.”

 

I don’t know why I was able to know the time so accurately, or how it is I could feel the wall from a distance. These, and many other experiences forthcoming are unexpected, and seem to show abilities in perception that we possess, of which we are not normally aware.

            “Earlier this afternoon I pulled out my unicycle and decided to try it out. The

            wheel was a little flat so I’d be riding slower than usual, but that was okay

            with me since I couldn’t see where I was going. It would have been impossible

            to do had I been alone, but Nicole was over today and she helped me.

 

            At first it was really hard. I was shaking because I was scared, and I couldn’t get

           on. Eventually I got going, went a little ways down the street, chickened out and

            jumped off. I walked back to about where I started to try again. To get my bear-

            ings I walk to the side of the road and count the number of steps across. The mid-

            dle of the road is seven steps from the curb. After a few more short journeys I

            begin to gain confidence. With Nicole in front of me I follow her voice and begin

            the long trek around the block.”

            

           “A car is coming up the street, so I get off the unicycle and walk to the side of the

            street. Apparently sensing, without sight, when something is in front of you, is a

            skill that requires concentration and some perfecting. I haven’t. I walked full-

            force into a parked truck. It was actually funny and I’m sure the people in the

            passing car enjoyed it also. Nicole laughed.

 

            Again, I centered myself in the street, mounted my unicycle and took off follow-

            ing her voice around the block. Rounding the curves are the best part; they

            seem a lot harder than the straightaways. In complete darkness I rush forward,

            trusting my guide’s voice, feeling very free in my solitary world.

 

            Around the second corner, and back up the other side of the block. I can hear

            kids playing something up the street. Distracted by this, I falter but maintain my

            balance and continue. By now both Nicole and I are comfortable with the sit-

            uation and I begin to speed up. Around the third corner and feeling great, only

            one more to go and I’m home.

 

            I’m not sure what happened, but Nicole didn’t tell me about the van. I was

            moving at a pretty good clip but apparently also veering slightly towards the

            side of the road. Suddenly, before hitting it, I did feel something very big right

            in front of me. I stalled, spun and dismounted. Reaching out with my arm ex-

            tended I felt with my hand the cold metal of the vehicle. I felt very lucky having

            somehow escaped a potentially messy situation. But how did I know it was

            there in time to stop? I was at least three feet away when I first felt it, probably

            more. This ability to sense objects in our paths without seeing them isn’t just a

            theory, it is definitely a reality and it just saved me. The world of the blind is

            not a sightless world.”

 

Looking back on this, I remember at the time, the most memorable aspect of this experience was the adventure, and the freedom of facing the darkness and my fear, and overcoming them.  That is still an important lesson for me, but now I’m particularly struck by the togetherness and friendship that Nicole and I had, as we faced this adventure, and as she helped me overcome what I couldn’t have done on my own.

            “Vision. It is important to imagine and to create images to compensate in a

            way for what I can’t see. To be able to picture in my mind what my surround-

            ings look like is crucial. I wonder what people who were born blind can picture?

            I bet a lot of their imaginings, their images, are better than our reality. I wonder

            if they would be let down to really see. To get a good look at the pollution in the

            air above Santa Rosa and the disgusting trash that lines every road and even

            invades the innocence of my hill. No, I bet they would love to see even that.”

 

             “Memory also plays an important role in my blindness. It goes hand in hand

            with visualization. Remembering where things are and how they are organized.

            In the kitchen I visualize the counter, set down my glass, walk to the stove, turn

            the knob one-quarter turn to the right, crack the eggs and cut the tofu…do I

            remember where the seasoning is located? Yes, it is in the front of the rotating

            dolly on the shelf above me. Add it to the eggs and tofu already cooking, return

            to the counter…remember, and save the glass that I left there…forget, and break

            it.  I’ve done both today.

 

            Visualize the toothpaste going onto the toothbrush. Good. Do I remember what

            my mom looks like? Yes, of course, it hasn’t been that long, but if I was blind

            for a long time I would wish that someone would care, and understand enough

            to ask me to tell them what she looks like. Or ask me to describe a banana, and

            to explain what green is and where it is found. I mustn’t forget and neither

            should anyone else.

 

            Luckiest event today—having forgotten the car was parked in the driveway,

            visualizing an empty driveway I walk across it to the garage. Somehow I missed

            the car and made it safely to the garage. I had visualized myself walking up the

            middle of the driveway, I guess I was wrong.

 

            End of my first day. I’m tired.”

 ~FS

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

           

 

           

           

 

It isn’t so much the quantity, but the manner in which we eat, that is the greatest problem for our souls. A smaller person will obviously need less food than does a larger person, so if the larger person eats a greater quantity of food this doesn’t make him a greater glutton. It is very possible the larger person, while eating a copious quantity of food, could do so in a manner, and with a spirit more focused on God, in virtue, than the smaller man does in eating his biscuit or loaf of bread.

Let us always keep God foremost in our minds, with thankfulness, as we eat our daily bread. And not eat mindlessly, simply shoveling it in without thought or gratitude, being mindful of how much is enough for us, stopping before we are filled to our limit. For even with a good mental outlook, a full belly can still be an impediment to our peaceful communion with God, instead, leading to scattered thoughts and a scattered way of living.

~FS

Chapter 4—A Different Point of View

Up until now I’ve told you Fritz and Rocco’s story essentially from my perspective, merely that sliver of life which I can see and understand.  But in truth, there is so much more to their story, so much more beyond what I can tell you on my own, things such as what it is they say to one another in their doggie language, or what is the content of their dreams, and what adventures do they get up to when we’re not around?

These things are true and real, and just because I am unable to express them to you myself doesn’t mean they don’t exist. And since they do exist, and are part of their story, I think they are things that you should know.

So I will introduce to you another story-teller, a second narrator to share their tale, and together he and I, with your help too, we’ll explore deeper into this interesting and funny world of Fritz and Rocco. This new narrator is Imagination, mine and yours, but not simply make-believe, no, it is imagination more like empathy—that ability we all have to put ourselves in another’s place, to walk in their shoes for a while, so to speak. Or in this case we shall be walking in another’s paw-steps for a little while:

The first night in their new home, it was clear to both Fritz and Rocco that their owners intended to have them sleep at night in a pen, in a remote downstairs room—far, far away from their own bedroom. But this would not do, and Rocco decided to make some noise to voice his displeasure to the two upstairs:

“Leaving us alone!?!

Shih-tzus never sleep downstairs!

Shih-tzus sleep on beds!!!”

At first this didn’t get any action, so he repeated his complaint several more times until one of the people, the bigger one, came into the room and made a swishy sound with his lips.

Rocco looked at Fritz and they both looked at the person. Fritz nudged Rocco and said, “Open your eyes really big, let your ears droop, and look really sad. And wag your tail!” They tried this together and it worked! The person picked them up, one in each arm, and carried them upstairs and put them on the bed. Fritz found a wonderful warm place between the people, up tight against the smaller one that smelled better and Rocco cuddled into the covers at the foot of the bed, near the feet of the bigger one that had carried them upstairs.

As Fritz drifted off to sleep he whispered to Rocco, “Isn’t this the best…I can’t wait for snacks in the morning!”

Rocco agreed, snacks would be a good thing to look forward to, and as he drifted off to sleep himself, he mused about the naivete of the new people they now lived with, and how little they understood about living with magnificent creatures like Shih-tzus. He would have to teach them so many things about proper respect and deference but he also could tell they were willing to learn and had good hearts so he felt certain he would be able to train them well, given the proper amount of time. Sleep overcame him as he sang this little rhyme to himself:

“They wanted us to sleep on rugs,

They must have mistaken us for Pugs,

Not a pest, nor a jest,

We’re simply the best,

‘Cause bed dogs are better than bed bugs.”

 

~FS

 

 

 

Chapter 3—The Super Great Outdoors

Now, speaking of neighborhood dogs, cats and errant squirrels, our little buddies began meeting a host of friends and some foes; although, with their good natures, they had very few foes. What foes they had, could, with a little persuasion, be turned into friends, given time.

Gizmo was the first friend they met in the neighborhood. He was a tall Australian Shepherd-Boarder Collie mix and, as you might expect, he had a love for chasing balls and things. This is a very exciting quality for a little dog like Fritz, who also loves to run and chase things, so they became fast friends.

Rocco, on the other hand, made friends a little more slowly and from a distance, perhaps because he is small and easily stepped on, but also he is less guided by utter trust and unbridled acceptance, as is Fritz. From a hundred yards off, Fritz will see you, and know for certain in his little heart that you will be his best friend and you will love him, and he will run straight at you across those hundred yards, staring directly into your eyes the whole way, while smiling his sweet, wide little canine smile, his puffy brown tail trailing out furiously behind him, until he reaches you and he stares up at you, wildly hoping to be lifted up to kiss your face, or at least that you will bend down and pet his chest, and let him sniff your breath.

Sniff your breath?!?  I know, I know, it sounds a little strange, but Fritz is a connoisseur of smells. If you will let him, this is his favorite way to say hello. And if you’ll open your mouth, he will take a long, deep sniff, assessing and analyzing and discovering untold mysterious things about you, things that you likely don’t know about yourself, but don’t worry, he won’t tell anyone, except maybe, just his brother.

Rocco takes just as much delight in this kind of greeting as Fritz does, and possibly the two will discuss their findings among themselves, after you’ve gone, of course, so as not to embarrass you, because they are polite little dogs after all.

The next neighborhood friend they made was Pookey, the cat that lives next door along with Gizmo. Pookey ran from Fritz and Rocco and this was absolutely wonderful, and by far the very best thing she could possibly do, to make them love her.

There were few things in their puppy lives that were as joyful as chasing Pookey, and she didn’t have the same nasty and somewhat dangerous habit of turning on them with pointy claws, as did their cat companion Aslan, who lived with us all in our own home. No, Pookey didn’t fight back, she just ran, and on one occasion Fritz was even able to catch her and pin her for a moment, before she squirmed away and fled frantically into her house.

It was the only time either Fritz or Rocco had ever actually caught Pookey, and the moment was swift and fleeting, but it had made an indelible impression on their young minds, and the possibility of a recurring opportunity filled them with hope and desire. Ever since then there hasn’t been a time we’ve passed Pookey’s home, that they haven’t run straight to her door and waited expectantly for another chance to catch her.

Even better than that though, was the time they found a somewhat injured squirrel in the groundcover.  I promise, the squirrel wasn’t badly hurt, he probably only stubbed his toe on a rock as he was hiding a nut under the leaves, but he was caught off-guard when Rocco and Fritz discovered him hiding in the plants. I believe at first they only intended to say hello, and inquire if they could offer assistance, but well, when the squirrel fled in a crazed and haphazard way, it really was too much to ask the puppies not to give chase. And when it was apparent that the squirrel’s stubbed toe slowed him down quite a lot, Fritz saw the opportunity only typically offered to him in really good dreams, so he intensified his pursuit.

The squirrel zigged, and then zagged, and ran circles around the driveway with Fritz in hot pursuit. The squirrel spun, and Fritz spun. The squirrel leaped and Fritz leaped. And Fritz caught him! Again, for only an instant, but long enough to fill his little soul with such satisfaction and elation, and fill his mind with memories never to be forgotten, and it gave him a story that would be the envy of many dogs, even those much bigger, older and stronger than he.

~FS