Learning New Stuff

I’ve never been a ‘read the owner’s manual’ kinda guy. I’ve always found them confusing, tedious and lengthy.

I used to have a pal who would read every owner’s manual from cover to cover. But I had, as my mother used to say, more of a “creative” mind.

Even when I could see, I didn’t read manuals. I was always a “visual learner” when trying to figure out how to operate stuff. So when I went totally blind, I was pooched.

As a blind guy, I still avoided screen reading online manuals. I preferred to have somebody ‘talk me through’ each button and crank. Sure, it was a struggle, but I was determined to master every bell and whistle on the device.

The struggle got worse as I grew older. Even my $10 toaster, between the frozen, regular and bagel settings and the light, medium and dark knob, became a chore. I figured that being blind exacerbated the learning process.

Then I started noticing my sighted friends calling out to their teenage children: “Hey Sam, show me how to use this remote,” or “Yo Jennie, help me figure out my new electric toothbrush.” It was an Aha moment! The problem wasn’t being blind, it was being over 40.

Not that I ever needed a reason why I didn’t read manuals, but now I finally had a good one.

Besides, why was I trying to learn all 128 buttons on the gismo when I only ever use 5 of them in the first place?

I was suddenly at the gateway to the next level: tranquility, self-actualization and spiritual enlightenment…with a little more time on my hands.

The desire to learn new things dramatically decreases for most people after they turn 40. Many folks believe this is due to the natural diminishing capacity of the human brain, but I’d like to think it may actually be the result of enlightenment. In other words, once you reach that age when you realize that you’re no longer receiving blue ribbons for effort, you trade in your sense of accomplishment for a little efficiency. You suddenly grasp the notion that all the time you spent agonizing over how to work the damn thing might have been better spent dreaming about the little vegetable garden you’ve been meaning to plant in your backyard.

Now I have a go-to-under-40 person to set up my new appliance and show me how to use the latest whizzbang technology with the fewest steps possible.

Keeping it simple is king. I no longer type my destination into my GPS. Instead, with my guide dog in tow, I just mash a button and speak into my phone where I want to go and voila!, the nice droid-lady answers me with step by step directions on how to get from point A to point B. (I can also assist some of my drivers who have difficulty using GPS. Yup, most of them are over 40.)

You may find it more satisfying to ask a stranger under 40 for help with a new gadget, rather than your go-to-under-40 family member. Strangers tend to be nicer and more patient. Family members are prone to be a little quippie during the education process, sometimes rolling their eyes or tossing you zingers like, “You don’t know how to do that?” or “I’ve shown you this a million times!” Of course, if you are a secure person with few self-esteem issues, quippie’s wisecracks don’t bother you. You just say, “Yeh, I’m a blockhead. Fix it.” That’s about all you need to do to get the quipster focused on the task.

If you have the impulse to explain to quippie why you aren’t ‘getting it,’ save your breath. They don’t care if you get it or not. And at your advanced age, you need to lower your stress level. Plus, by not explaining yourself, you have extra time to do something useful, like top-up your soft soap kitchen dispenser which has been empty since last month.

So, with your Millennial or Gen Z of choice and your own good self-image, you’ll have that new “Power-Your-Spaceship-To-Mars-With-Solar” app downloaded and up and running in just a few short minutes.

But before you blast off to worlds unknown, you might consider tending your garden first.

Steve Gladstone

The Blind Dude

Eating Ants

The other day my daughter came over for a visit. I was in my den when I heard her calling out to me from the kitchen: “Hey dad, there are ants all over your chocolate candy.”

Yikes! I had a flash memory from the night before, eating a couple of pieces from my box of Valentine chocolates which I had been rationing and now was almost empty…except for the ants.

I quickly got to thinking about any weird science I might have swallowed in the past and recalled how I thought the sliced ham I had for lunch earlier tasted a little tangy. When you’re a blind dude, bad strawberries and sour milk are simple to detect, but ant-covered chocolates, not so easy.

I started wondering why I was still alive.

I suppose at their most basic level, ants are protein.

Then I remembered Steve McQueen’s character in the film Papillon, mashing up and eating insects while detained in a French Guiana prison. It didn’t kill him but rather helped sustain him for two years while being held in solitary confinement. I was starting to feel better.

Certainly in some parts of the world, local cuisine includes beetles, grasshoppers and other insects which are dried, fried and covered with seasonings. Desserts include tasty tidbits like Chocolate Covered Scorpion and Chile-Lime Crickets.

According to one source: “…80% of the world views insects as normal food; it's only nations in Europe, Canada and the USA who balk at the idea.”

Was I ahead of the curve?

A quick surf on Google will bring you to organizations that promote the eating of those creepy little critters. One such association boasts: “Eat Bugs, Save the Planet.” There are ‘Bug Festivals’ dedicated to educating us about the nutritional benefits of edible insects.

Notwithstanding the challenges of world hunger, the rising demand for meat, overfishing, current farming practices damaging the environment, polluting the water and air and contributing to the rise in infectious diseases, it may be time to change the way we view food.

Back to what we eat.

I thought about a nice steak – cooked cow, really? Who’d want to eat such an odd looking animal? And sushi…? Hmm, raw fish. Then it hit me: maybe as long as what we eat is dead, it works. Or at least is more appetizing.

We don’t eat living stuff. But lots of other creatures do. Snakes eat live rats, lions eat zebra, lizards eat flies, cats eat lizards, and blind dudes eat ants. No big whoop, eh?

Good thing those big bug movies like “Them!” (a nest of gigantic irradiated ants storming L.A.) and “The Fly” (a scientist mutating into a human fly) are just Sci-Fi. Otherwise, we might also be on the menu.

Dead or alive, food is necessary for survival. And eating responsibly is a worthwhile consideration.

Perhaps someday we’ll hear public service announcements like: “Promote healthy eating and sustainable farming with tasty & edible insects. Eat a bug!”

Until then, I won’t be dusting my chocolates with little ants anytime soon, but won’t freak out if I munch a few along the way.

Steve Gladstone The Blind Dude

Blind Man Goes to the Ballet

Photos by Aida Zuniga

Perhaps the last form of theatrical entertainment to attract a blind person would be the ballet: no speaking, no singing, just dancing.

However, thanks to technology, I can now understand the fascination with sugar plum fairies dancing in your head.

Like so many Baby Boomers, I was first introduced to Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite, a truncated orchestral version of his Nutcracker ballet music, while watching Disney’s Fantasia. Of course, Tchaikovsky crafted the Suite as a purely symphonic piece where the ballet is a feast for both the eyes and ears.

inside a toy box

The first characters most Boomers actually tied to The Nutcracker were the animated fairies, fish, flowers, mushrooms, and leaves from Fantasia (1940). The Nutcracker ballet didn’t really become a popular annual tradition in this country until the 1960s, the result of George Balanchine's staging, adapted from E.T.A. Hoffmann's tale, “The Nutcracker and the Mouse King.”

The animated images from Fantasia probably remained with me longer than most people, since I actually saw the film but was totally blind by the time I first attended the ballet.

Those fluid, colorful and quirky animated characters from the movie morphed back to their original forms in the ballet: the dancing mushrooms in the “Chinese Dance” routine (credit the Three Stooges as the model for the animation) became a nimble Chinese danseur leaping out of a box 3 feet into the air; the mesmerizing goldfish who used her flowing tail as a veil became one beautiful barefoot Arabian babe in a gossamer skirt and cascading veil, using her sensuous and controlled movements – arching her back, turning around on one foot and moving in serpentine  patterns – to touch her head with one foot and stretch out like a cat; a plant with its stem body and leaves for arms and legs became an acrobatic Cossack who jumped through a red, white and green striped hula hoop.

So how does a blind man know all these details? Elementary, my dear Watson: audio description.

With a FM receiver around my neck and an earpiece in my ear, a live narrator at the Arsht Center’s Ziff Ballet Opera House in Miami described the action on stage, transmitting it to me in real time as the music played and the dancers danced.

It was also helpful to have a “touch tour” before the show, giving size and shape to many of the stage props and costumes. I did enjoy communing with the Mouse King’s head and body armor.

holding the Mouse King's tail off suit of armor

I never knew it was snowing at the top of the ballet and that several guests arrived with their children at Dr. Stahlbaum’s home. I didn’t know that a father picked up his little daughter to admire the Christmas tree lights or that the grandfather clock lit up when it struck eight.

I learned that the mysterious Drosselmeyer was dressed in a black cape and top hat, and brought with him several large toy boxes; his first gift being two wind-up dolls, Harlequin and Columbine, who soon performed a sprightly arabesque, which enlightened me as to why the audience was applauding.

I had a serious ‘duh’ moment when I found out that Drosselmeyer was cracking nuts with a wooden nutcracker and passing out the nuts to everyone. My inner voice clarified it for me: “It’s The Nutcracker ballet after all, you knucklehead!”

Marie’s brother Fritz grabbing and stomping on the nutcracker was another important piece of otherwise missing info. Drosselmeyer sneaking in as Marie slept, repairing the nutcracker with a magic tool which he “twisted this way and that,” placing it back gently in Marie’s arms, continued to add layers of dimension to Tchaikovsky’s wonderful music.

Subtle descriptions like “the guests hand their coats and wraps to the maid” and “Frau Stahlbaum kisses Marie on the forehead and takes her candle” and “the Prince places the Mouse King’s crown on Marie’s head” added nuance I would otherwise have missed.

Steve arghs with full face Mouse King

Of course, as the music swelled and a large group of mice surrounded Marie “while the lights flashed wildly on the Christmas tree as it started to grow and grow towards the ceiling,” I got the distinct impression the plot was thickening.

Yup, the Calvary came over the hill – the now full-sized Nutcracker rallied the troops of toy soldiers against the rat pack. Kudos to Marie for throwing her slipper at the Mouse King to distract him long enough for the Nutcracker to run him through…and it’s a good thing I found out that the Nutcracker turned into a Prince after the battle.

The only thing better than a snowflake dancing en pointe is sixteen snowflakes dancing en pointe “leaping, swirling and twirling across the stage, forming various patterns on the floor, then taking delicate steps with graceful arm movements and pirouetting into a V-shape.”

How else would I know that The Sugar Plum Fairy found out about the “terrible fight with the mice and their King and the Prince’s transformation from Nutcracker to Prince” if he didn’t “act it out to Sugar Plum with gestures?”

Certainly the "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy" was a delight, “her movements exquisitely timed to the mysterious fairy music, imbued with a celesta, twirling upstage” before summoning all the sweets and friends to dance in celebration for Marie and the Prince. The festivities included ten foot tall Mother Ginger, in her enormous purple, green and scarlet costume, with her seven children, the Polichinelles, emerging from under her hoop skirt to dance for our heroine.

A highlight was the "Waltz of the Flowers" where, along with the corps de ballet, Dewdrop danced the extravagant waltz and, according to my narrator, “The large flowing movements and leaps were graceful, even though the music was robust.”

The Grand Pas de Deux between Sugar Plum and her Cavalier, Prince Coqueluche, with its divinely romantic underscore, apparently galvanized the audience. I now know that the Prince helped his “beautiful companion” spin en pointe and then she “leaped and he spun her around and sat her on his shoulder, lifted and held her by the waist straight into the air, and then held her straight on an angle with her feet barely touching the floor.”

After the grand finale, full of abundant color and activity, Marie and the Prince “appear in a sleigh, heading off to the land where the sun meets the moon.”

And I too was over the moon after knowing what the heck was going on.

If you would like to learn more about the audio descriptive service at the Arsht, go to: http://www.arshtcenter.org/

full-sized Nutcracker head

Insight for the Blind was thrilled to produce recorded audio description for the first time in 2015!  In collaboration with the Miami City Ballet, Lighthouse of Broward, and the Broward Center for the Performing Arts, Insight recorded and produced audio description which was made available each night that live audio description was not possible.  Through the partnership of these agencies, 100% of these Nutcracker performances were made accessible, through audio description, to the blind and visually impaired.  We look forward to many more such collaborations in 2016, and beyond!   -Matt Corey

Kinky Boots

Photo credit:  Aida Zuniga I’ve groused aplenty about how the world doesn’t have blind folks at the top of its A-List, so now it’s time to give credit where credits due.

More and more devices and services are coming online that enrich the lives and experiences of blind folks and those with low vision. Technology is moving well beyond computer screen readers and talking thermometers, especially in the world of entertainment.

Several years ago, the first round of “video described” movies made it possible for blind folks to know what was going on between the dialogue. The original Star Trek films and Pretty Woman were among the first few titles where narration, carefully synchronized with the actors' words and motions, was added to the soundtrack after the film was shot. This made blind movie fans aware of the nonverbal action on the screen. I recall a specific narrative in Pretty Woman when Richard Gere is first driving with Julia Roberts in his rented Lotus: “She reaches over and feels his crotch.”

There are now thousands of films and TV “described” shows available as MP3 downloads. (All you really need is an MP3 player and the sweetened audio track of the film unless, of course, you are watching the video with your sighted girlfriend.)

Methinks in a real sort of way, the added narration is a show unto itself. One can only imagine the colorful narrative to the Game of Thrones. Yup, it’s all there.

Even my local movie theater complex offers video description for those first run films that are released with the pre-recorded narration, though the technology can be a bit finicky and doesn’t always work.

Comcast now has its X1 Entertainment Operating System which speaks aloud the channel, current program, and reads the TV guide and controls for programming your DVR. For those TV shows offering video description, many from PBS, blind and low vision users get increased access to the action on present-day TV.

And now, like Santa, Broadway with audio description has come to town.

On any given Sunday matinee, Florida Grand Opera, the Miami City Ballet and many of the musical roadshows presented at the Arsht Center in Miami are audio described with a live narrator. Unlike recorded films and TV, describing live shows has some synchronization challenges since the pace of the action may vary from performance to performance. It requires the narration to be matched to the action in real time by a breathing person via a FM transmitter to a receiver headset worn by the patron.

I just attended the national tour of Kinky Boots, a Broadway musical based on the film of the same name, The inspiration for which came from a true story about a young man (Charlie Price) who inherits his family’s shoe factory and, in order to save the business from bankruptcy, converts it from making fine men’s footwear to producing red thigh high boots for drag queens and fashionistas.

So, how did I know the boots were red? Read on, Macduff.

First off, a pre-show backstage ‘touch tour’ of some of the props and set pieces offered up the first sense of dimension for the blind experience. Grabbing hold of a pair of kinky boots was, well, kinky.

Steve smiling with kinky boot

When there’s dialogue, you have the sense of what’s happening, but when there is silence between the actors, or the actors are singing or dancing, the action is totally lost on blind folks.

As a pumped up Charlie sang about the steps he needed to take to make the prototype boot to serve his underserved niche market, he pulled a piece of leather out of a bucket and began to fashion the first boot; there was a sewing station and a production area on stage around him. I knew all this because of the narration I heard through my earpiece as he sang. The driving tune suddenly became three-dimensional with the descriptive imagery planted squarely in my mind.

After a few false starts and some helpful design tips from the lead gender bender, Lola, singing “The Sex is in the Heel,” the factory workers later raised the roof as the first pair of "kinky boots" was finally completed. The sexy lyrics were even sexier knowing that one of Lola’s backup drag dancers, one of the “angels,” did a full split in heels and another did a backflip; the excitement was more exciting knowing that dancers shimmied and swiveled in “halter tops, short shorts and work boots” as the first completed boot was revealed. Everybody (me included) shouted “yeah, yeah!”

The spoken cues indicated more depth of character when factory worker Lauren “moved in close to Charlie’s face and was reluctant to remove her hand from his thigh” as she sang of her history of choosing the wrong guys, even while falling in love with Charlie. Descriptions of the subtle gestures and facial expressions between Charlie and Lola added an emotional dynamic as they discovered their similarly complex feelings toward their fathers. Knowing that Lola exited the nursing home “straight and proud” in her white dress, after singing to her estranged wheelchair-bound dying father to hold her in his heart, added the otherwise missing element of both love and defiance.

The graphic description of Lola’s provocative moves while proving that she was closer to a woman's ideal man than was Don, the foreman and her heavy-set macho antagonist, enhanced her song and dance with some tasty spice. After challenging her to a boxing match, the ‘slow-mo’ blows that Lola landed on Don in the boxing ring was the only way I knew who was winning the fight. Without the verbal cues before Lola and the angels arrived to save the day, I would never have known that Charlie stumbled more than a few times on the runway while modeling his boots during the Milan industry show.

While attending a play or musical, it’s often a big mystery to me when scenes change. When the scene shifted from the shoe factory to London to a pub to a boxing ring to the runway in Milan, I was knocked out with a greater sense on what the heck was happening on stage!

Steve with astonished kinky dancer with boot in the air

Without the narration, how else would I have known that the hefty Don, now Lola’s ally, showed up on the runway in Milan wearing a feminine blue outfit and boots?

Oh yeah, also while in Milan, one of the angels who saves the day was “dressed in a British flag, wearing 2 and ½ feet thigh high red kinky boots.”

That’s how I knew they were red.

Timing is Everything!

Photos by Aida Zuniga So I was in Nicaragua on Wednesday soundseeing and heard a faint but distinctive grumbling coming from the belly of this volcano.

I checked it out and smoke started to rise behind me and I figured it was time to get out of Dodge and rustle up some barbeque. Good thing I did or it might have been me on the menu.

Steve Gladstone

The ‘alive and well’ Blind Dude

Why Does a Blind Man Visit the Grand Canyon?

Why does a blind man visit the Grand Canyon?

To hear the sights of course.

I recently signed up for a tour from Phoenix to the Grand Canyon and to my delight it included non-stop narration over the 6 hour trek to the big abyss. Picked up some useful information and some pretty good food along the way (though I did not try the cactus fries).

Becoming the 48th state in 1912, most of Arizona’s land remains unspoiled; you pass through the desert dotted with cactus and head north through forests of pine, fir, and spruce trees. Large swaths of undeveloped land belong to many Native American tribes including the Navajo Nation. I was impressed to find that so much of Arizona’s reservation land remains casino free – unlike so many reservation hosted casinos around the country that give new meaning to “pay back.”

On our way to the canyon, we stopped in Sedona – a funky little town with metaphysical shops, talismans, vortexes, and celebrity vacation homes – a sort of Key West of the desert.

I’ll attempt to shrink the Grand Canyon’s long history into a short sentence: The Colorado River is a chisel that carved out the Grand Canyon over the past 6 million years, steadily cutting layer after layer of sediment into a channel that is 277 miles long, ranging in width from 4 to 18 miles with a vertical depth of more than 1 mile.

The outcome is a splendid example of erosion. The immense gorge is one of the seven natural wonders of the world, is visible from outer space, and boasts 5 million visitors annually. It is a wilderness of rock, light and shadow.

Bottom line: I didn’t see much.

I couldn’t see the massive wingspan of the condor, nor glimpse deer, elk, mountain lion, raven or antelope, nor any of the 2,000 varieties of plants that populate the canyon. And, of course, I missed seeing the depths below.

However, though the sights were vast, so were the sounds. I cottoned to the many languages I continuously heard floating in the air within 5 feet around me – a mashup of accents from foreign countries like Japan, Germany, France, Australia, Russia and Kansas.

I visited the eastern and southern parts of the South Rim of the canyon. The soft cool wind kept surrounding me like a garment as I moved from point to point, wearing the breeze like a linen jacket at the Desert View Watchtower and then like a spooky cape at Yaki Point. I intoned a sublime meditation at Yaki as the environs took over my body and brain.

[video width="320" height="240" mp4="http://www.insightfortheblind.org/blog/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/Yaki-Point.mp4"][/video]

I loved the blustering gusts at Mather Point even though I missed the sunset doing its slow dance with the vast cavern. I missed the sunrise too because I was asleep back in my hotel room.

Many visitors asked me if I felt anything awesome. I know they wanted the blind man to sense something grand. I did not want to disappoint them, so I channeled some down home Native American ideals I had just learned and waxed on about an “expansive spiritual space governed by Mother Earth and Father Sky and how we must work not ‘off’ the earth but ‘with’ the earth and how we must govern our behavior in a deep sort of way by asking how what we do to the land today will impact seven generations from now.” Some folks were mystified with my answer. So was I.

I felt a little bit like Kokopelli, the mythical formidable story teller and prankster who wanders around the Southwestern states playing his flute. (In full disclosure, while visiting a Navajo reservation I did buy a flute made of handcrafted birch wood, which sounds pretty nice.)

A friend looking at some of the pictures my girlfriend posted on Facebook said, “Holy c--p! Don’t look down.” I did look down but didn’t see anything. I’ll try again tomorrow.

And that’s just it – many nights after I crawl into bed, I wonder if I’ll wake up in the morning being able to see. And if that should happen, I plan on racing back to the Grand Canyon, though I might just shut my eyes when I get there.

Steve Gladstone The Blind Dude

All photos and video by Aida Zuniga

Where is There?

Today there are only about 39 million people in the world who are completely blind, which is about ½ of 1% of the world’s total population. We are not talking about visually impaired people who use corrective lenses or cock their heads this way or that to pull something into view; we are talking gold standard blind – people unable to see zip… nada, nothing.

Since 99.5% of the world’s population can see, most people never come face-to-face with a completely blind individual and consequently get no practice interacting with totally blind folks.

I used to be amazed at how inept or awkward people were around me after I lost all my sight. It’s like I had an exotic skin disease when people went to guide me. Typically they’d grab my hand or wrist and proceed to drag me along as if I was a large stuffed animal.

When I ask where the pitcher of lemonade is or where I should sit while waiting for the doctor, I’m frequently told, “Over there.” Where is there, exactly? The similar phrase, “Sit over here,” isn’t much help either. “Go that way” also isn’t a useful direction for a sightless person.

The key problem for blind people (besides not being able to see) is that most of the world isn’t blind.

The disadvantages of being sightless in a sighted world are many, most likely due to the fact that people who invent things are not blind and don’t think about building products and providing services with the blind in mind.

Even buttons to press or knobs to turn that can be helpful to sightless users are disappearing from appliances and credit card swipers. My local supermarket just replaced their keypad pay stations with touchscreens, making it impossible for me to complete the checkout process myself. Ovens, microwaves, thermostats, countless other appliances, even vending machine operational buttons and knobs have slowly been replaced with digital displays, making most of them inaccessible for sightless people. (Gotta give a shout out to Apple Inc., the exception here, for designing their goods for blind users with lots of accessibility built into their products.)

This refrigerator has a lot of options...for a sighted person.

When I’m listening to the TV and hear, “Just call the number at the bottom of your screen for your 30 day supply and we’ll pay the shipping,” or the message says, “Just call 1-800-GOFEDEX,” you know these knuckleheads aren’t thinking of their blind customers.

Ironically, some banks do provide Braille instructions on their ATMs, but in the drive-through? Really? So, they want the operator of the vehicle to throw it into reverse and back up into the drive-through lane so that their blind passenger can reach out and touch the nicely brailed panel of instructions? Or maybe the bank execs intend this accommodation for the blind folks who are out and about on their roller blades with their guide dogs.

Braille in the drive-thru? Hmm.

Since most people don’t have a family member or a friend who is a real-deal blind person, they get no practice with what sightless individuals consider to be the no-brainer rules of engagement: don’t grab and drag, don’t say “over there,” announce all the digits of the phone number, etc.

The other day I went to the podiatrist with a pain in my big left toe. When the receptionist (who learned I was blind when I signed in) called my name, my friend led me to the door leading to the examination rooms. I was standing there quietly in the doorway when the receptionist told me to go down the hall and enter the second door on the left. I smugly replied, “Which way?” She said, “Over there.” (cricket…cricket…) I grinned wryly and she said, “Oh, walk down that way about 20 feet (Ha! I’ll bet she was pointing too!) and take a left into the second door.” My friend realized what was happening (or not happening), offered me his elbow and led me to the examining room.

I later realized my own prejudice – I assumed medical professionals would know better. Then again, most, maybe all, of their patients aren’t blind. No practice dealing with blind folks, like the rest of the world.

I made my follow-up appointment and the receptionist announced to my friend that I needed to return in 2 weeks. Did she think I wasn’t going to tell him? Really? This is similar to the server in a restaurant who will ask my girlfriend if I would prefer the broccoli or string beans with my chicken and rice. She points to me and says, “Ask him. He’ll know.”

Curiously, when I’m speaking on the phone with somebody I’ve never met and my blindness comes up during the natural course of the conversation, they often say, “You don’t sound blind.”

I’m still not sure what sounding blind is supposed to sound like.

Steve Gladstone

The Blind Dude

Blind Is the New Sight

When you were a child, did you ever close your eyes and imagine flying like a bird, or picture what was at the end of a rainbow, or shut your eyes to make a wish while you were blowing out your birthday candles?

As adults, we take a workshop with Tony the empowerment guru who has us close our eyes and visualize where-we-want-to-be-in-five-years, or we complete our yoga class with our eyes closed as the yogi leads us on a guided meditation.

Why with our eyes closed? Can’t we get there with them open? Does sight somehow prevent us from fulfilling our wishes or reaching the higher plane of our inner-universe?

While we’re asleep our eyes are closed and those vivid dreams appear, sending meaningful messages to ourselves. Sight is turned off even with our eyes wide open via a daydream, where we are transported to the outback thousands of miles away from the boardroom.

When we listen to a book on tape or read a novel, sight isn’t a factor. Instead, the spoken and written words spark our imagination, our mind’s eye surveying the colorful images and landscapes in our head. Our imaginings can sometimes be so potent that they leave us disappointed in the movie made from the book. Perhaps what we see is trumped by what we think.

You also get more out of your other senses when you’re sightless. We may hear more of what someone says because we don’t get distracted by something we see going on around them; you tune into the tone, tempo and rhythm of what they’re saying and pick up the meaning between their words. Touch becomes more satisfying as you check out the shape, weight and texture of items (and people too if you get lucky!). Your sense of smell is heightened into a fragrant blossom when you’re not distracted by the beauty of the flower.

Certainly we all want to see, but sight does come with its limitations. It shapes our immediate thinking and can create a barrier to our deeper self. If we don’t see the fancy car they drive, or the short skirt, or the missing teeth, we may indeed become a little less timid or shy or snobbish and a little more relaxed and real with the people we meet.

If pictures were eliminated from online dating websites, what would be the outcome? Pandemonium that leads to better results?

Going on a ‘blind date’ implies risky business. Sight unseen may lead to disappointment. However, let’s face it, when you’re on that first date, you’re looking your best and on your best behavior; sight may actually be misleading if we don’t begin to get beyond that scrubbed and shining first impression. Half of all marriages wind up in divorce, usually for reasons that don’t meet the eye. When you’re blind, you focus on the voice which can be a better lens to the soul. For the record, all my dates are blind ones.

Sight can certainly promote discrimination, triggering those biases we carry in our heads when the people around us look and move differently than we do. When you’re blind, you don’t prejudge the abilities of the guy you just met in the wheelchair.

If most of the world was blind, things might be more peaceful. There’d be less discrimination since color of skin wouldn’t trigger aggressive actions. War would be reduced and possibly eliminated since we wouldn’t be able to see the enemy, or at least take accurate aim.

Perhaps the world would be a little less hostile if we all were a little more blind.

When you do without sight, there are plenty of advantages. Everybody speaking on the phone is virtually blind: how convenient it is for those who have home-based businesses to strike deals while sitting in their Jockey shorts.

You save a lot of money when you’re blind. You tend to buy only what you need. You’re not tempted to grab the stuff around the checkout counter of the grocery store, or the items down the aisles of the drugstore as you head back to the pharmacy, or the attractive sweater you don’t need but have to pass by in order to get the pants which you do need.

So we dutifully and happily shut our eyes and let out a long sigh as we hunker down into our yoga mats, improving our mood, muscles and digestive systems.

Missing Color

There are certain things you miss after seeing perfectly well and then becoming totally blind. It goes without saying that your children’s faces are at the top of the list. Certainly watching football and looking at a beautiful woman make the grade. Reading labels on cans and washing instructions on clothing are also included on this unusual roster. But color is a very special and peculiar line item on that daunting list of things you miss.

I remember being in my late 20s and catching a shot of vivid blue in the bottom corner of my right eye. It was both shocking and wonderful – shocking because it had jolted me into realizing that I had not been seeing color for quite some time, and wonderful to see some color again. Though I hadn’t been seeing color for years, it strangely never entered my conscious mind that I had lost it.

Losing color is something entirely different from losing vision. Curiously, colors continue to paint the walls of your memory long after they have disappeared from your sight. I remember vibrant reds, crisp greens and brilliant blues. I still recall the pastels of pinks, oranges and yellows evaporating into the horizon of the setting Key West sun.

As a child, I lived in Coral Gables, down the street from a fellow named Anthony Abraham. Mr. Abraham owned a huge Chevrolet dealership and had one of the biggest houses in the neighborhood, complete with a sprawling manicured garden. Every Christmas season, his house and garden was adorned with soft blue bulbs, a life-size animated Santa, flying reindeer, a singing choir and, most vividly, a huge tree strung with brilliantly multi-colored blinking lights.

Between every Thanksgiving and January 1st, This twinkling display (and also another large, beautifully lit house across the way, no doubt keeping the Abrahams on their holiday lighting toes), turned my otherwise sleepy little neighborhood street into a bustling highway with cars rumbling toward and away from the magnificent glittering tree that people from several counties away would drive to see. I recall lying in bed, wearing my Dr. Denton pajamas and watching the jalousie glass of my bedroom window flair up with bursts of white light as the headlamps of cars moved down and up my street.

As the evening wore on toward midnight and the traffic subsided, I would take just a few steps down the walkway from my front door, cross the swale into the street, and my eyes would fill up with the sparkling colors of this fairy-bush. Pure magic.

Happy Holidays!

Steve Gladstone