Blind Through Nature

An exercise in one of my writing classes. In partners, one person led the other around the UC Berkeley campus and its natural growth. Beneath blindfolds, we took in our environment in a new way.

A piece told in prose, then poetry.

Prose

Tightened around my head, the blindfold eradicated light entering my eyes. I was now blind, and while I was not yet moving, it was as if at any moment at rest was one seeking for peace in darkness. I took a breath, and the warm air rushed into my lungs, flowing through my nostrils. The outside rushes in, a crisp spring air intruding the Bay Area’s winter in February, with all the surrounding pink cherry trees in blossom no longer visible to me. I searched for their presence with my nose. Gently grasping my arm, my partner guided me to the front of bushes, trees, flowers, and grass, as I gently stepped my way around.

I felt first with my toes to decide where I could place my feet. I focused on one sense at a time; no longer able to see, I had a different variety of sensory input that I was less familiar with interpreting. Hearing the world surrounding me, and with no immediate noises I probed to find my way forward. I was gestured toward the ground by my partner when upon some natural formation of any significance. I kneeled slowly like groaning machinery, and methodically I reached my hands forward to find balance.

At first contact, I moved my gingers and guided my hand to whatever I touched. I searched for its roots or stem or trunk and found where it connected with the ground. I followed its shape upwards towards the shining sun, observing outer textures: rough and crevice-filled or smooth bark lined trees of all sizes, fuzzy and firm stems held up fragile flowers, and had accents of waxy and soft leaves in bushes. Bent over, I brought leaves and flowers close to my nose and let a rush of their scents within my being. Colors became memories through a synesthesia of associations, familiar flowers associated with memories of white and yellow posies, daisies, and sunflowers from my childhood home’s front yard. Others had peculiar tones that reminded me of eccentric blue and purple arrangements I’d exchanged with loved ones.

I was taken and granted sightless connections with the Divine Mother Earth upon commiseration with the plants. Alive as I was, each moment in contact grounded me and melded me as one with the serenity constantly present and breathing beneath the ground I walked upon, free to reconnect with at any moment.

Finally, moved into the blinding rays of the sun, I removed my blindfold and was showered with the blinding white transcendent light of birth and rebirth, presented anew to another day to experience the grace of life and being.

Poem

Arms outstretched downwards

Nature reaches up to our fervent sun

Mediating for a moment

Melding blindly with an array of color

Rough barks Silky stems velvety petals

The fruits of color filled the vacuum internal

With life eternal beyond mine