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TO LIVE WITH BLINDNESS: Only in becoming the eyes of the blind, do we really see

Last updated: January 26th, 2019

We are so dependent on sight for our entire lives that to suddenly have it removed can have a devastating effect not only on the one suffering the loss, but also on those who depended on the sight of the now unseeing.

A couple of years ago I spent six months on a boat with a 77-year-old man, trying to get his yacht ready for what he was attempting… his last cruise to wherever. Approximately 15 years before he had suffered a severe head injury which slowly removed his direct vision, only leaving 15 percent peripheral vision. It also left his right arm almost uncontrollably shaking. The boat had been “maintained”—or so he thought—by others under his instruction, however as he could not see, he had to trust that what was being done was correct.

He refused to accept his lack of vision and other physical impairments. I would watch him trying to find an oil leak, or put a screwdriver in the slot of a screw—it took forever and tested my patience to the ‘nth degree; but I could not step in—would not—as it would remove his dignity. One evening the electricity cut out. I quickly walked onto the dock to see if the rest of the boats were in darkness—they weren’t. On getting back on board, I saw smoke. Grabbing a flashlight I crawled into the small area behind the mains panel and realized there was a major short circuit. I didn’t know this boat and had no idea what work had been done. Cutting all the mains, we waited until morning so I could have another look. It was a mish-mash of burnt wiring, supposedly colour-coded for ease of tracing.

Now I had to fix. The area was a tiny pigeonhole I managed to climb into and, with him sitting on the other side, I had to explain what I was seeing, remembering that whatever I saw I would have to “mirror vision” as he was facing the panel I was behind. He had to try and remember how the boat had been wired when he first bought it… 30 years before.

I drew huge diagrams and would sit with him on deck as he attempted to scan what I had done and try to make sense of it. And, where before the ruminating of a mind simply chewing through a thought process could be ignored by an audience until complete assumptions could be stated, it now became imperative for this audience to take notes and become a part of the process. There was not only the necessity to understand the process, but also to give cognizant feedback.

Wanderings of the mind that would, in a sighted person be casually listened to now became the notes that concentrated the seeing on problems. To assume that someone has seen something was the stuff of the past and can in certain situations, cost lives.

It was an exercise in patience I didn’t realize I had, but the stress on the seeing was as vast as the frustration on the unseeing when what is remembered as being in a certain state or place, has changed and a whole new set of possibilities raised its uninvited head. To have sight removed is devastating in itself, to now have to force “sight” on unconscious changes with the assistance of an unseeing sighted, can challenge the boundaries of sanity.

Days of tension and frustration followed as I sat listening, drawing, explaining, repairing, undoing the repair, trying again and again to “see” through his eyes and make him see through my voice. When I get involved in a task, I work in silence—thinking through a process, doing/undoing/redoing. Now I couldn’t as I had to through my words give him sight. I had to not only see the miniscule detail of each action, I had to voice it in such a way as to make him see.

It was a life-changing time for me. And as I worked with this man and his blindness, my seeing changed; my awareness heightened, my compassion deepened and I learned true awareness. To be constantly hyper-aware is supposed to be the pinnacle of human achievement; however how many really know what this means? Living with blindness means the norm becomes the exception and there can be no relaxing of consciousness.

To the sighted, appreciating a sunset means simply opening the eyes and absorbing the spectrum of colours that moves the mind to another state of being. To the sightless it means moving through another’s eyes and through the voice of the beholder seeing the splendour and feeling the wonder. The stars look different; so too do the moon, the clouds, the state of the sea, as suddenly they are being properly studied to be able to describe them in minute detail, and words are being sought that will carry the picture to the mind of the unseeing.

Voices become the sight of the unsighted and words more important than actions.

Things taken for granted constantly raise their beautiful or ugly head. Simple things become big things that mean a lot. To make a cup of coffee for someone is so often considered a chore; to have a cup of coffee made by someone who first has to be told exactly where everything is situated is an act of beauty. The ugly head is the one that sees and ignores the little things—cracks in the pavement, a garden hose in the way, a score on the board at a football game, something set out of place that could frustrate or harm.

The sight of the seeing is more unseeing than that of the sightless. To live with blindness calls to attention the awareness of the sheer joy of seeing; and to look at the world on behalf of the blind opens the colours of a well-faded rainbow to reflect its true brilliance.

Photo Losing the Light by legally blind photographer Kurt Weston, from his series Blind Vision.

Image: Close-up of a blind man via Shutterstock

  1. Jane, I am so touched by the patience and perseverance in which you worked with the situation and with your friend. I wonder sometimes if awakenings and realizations like the one you had could arise in almost any situation; like the chicken or the egg. What comes first, the compassion as a result of patient understanding, or the patience for the understanding that allows for the compassion to happen at all?
    It is very intriguing to me.
    I’m very happy to have read this, since there are many forms of blindness in the world, and perhaps it will help me to remember this type of patience when I encounter one or more of them. Thank you so much for putting it all into words!

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