Recently I received an e-mail from a good friend named Jean asking a legitimate question, to which I promised a thoughtful response. She knew I had visited Sweden a couple of years ago, and she asked how I enjoyed the trip without the ability to experience it visually.
Her inquiry prompted me to ponder my own blindness and how I approach life.
I dislike the cliché, “a person cannot miss what he/she has never had.” It implies that I as a person with congenital blindness somehow lack the capacity to imagine what I am missing.
When you describe a sunset or mountain vista, or the beauty and majesty of a hawk soaring, I understand and lament that I can never experience what you see with your eyes.
I am certain adventitiously blind folks miss seeing more viscerally than I do, but I definitely miss it. So do I want you to avoid talking to me about things you know I’ll never be able to see? Of course not.
I want you to tell me what you see, and I will try to tell you how it makes me feel when I hear a wood thrush calling in the forest with the sound echoing off the trees at day’s end. I will talk to you about how I feel when I smell flowers and the aroma of a certain combination of suburban greenery that always makes me think of heaven, but you will not understand any better than I can comprehend what you see.
I will never be able to fully experience what you do, and neither can you experience life as I do. It is not only because you are sighted and I am not, it’s because we are unique. We must each seek out what brings us pleasure through whatever senses and filters we possess. We must find our own ways to experience joy, and we must cultivate a quest for beauty in our daily lives. I find beauty in the sounds of birds, the noise of my grandchildren playing, people’s accents, the feel of warm summer breezes, and the good smells in the world around me.
My son Tom and I visited the Boston Museum of Fine Arts (MFA) recently, and neither of us enjoyed it very much. We had planned to walk along the harbor, but rain caused us to seek an indoor venue for the 1.5 hour time slot we had available. Considering the short time span, I chose not to avail myself of the MFA’s audio guide.
Like me, Tom enjoys nature and the outdoors. He has had little exposure to the fine arts and therefore has no frame of reference for interpreting and appreciating them. There is world-renowned artwork there, but we were not prepared to appreciate its beauty. We were both at a disadvantage in that environment. Should he choose to, Tom could read up on some of the art and then visit again with open eyes and an open mind, ready to experience the exhibits in new ways.
The next time I go back, I will take advantage of an audio guide or a docent, and I will ask to visit exhibits I can relate to, such as one that shows a wide variety of ancient musical instruments from around the world. I know the audio guide includes samples of music played on the various instruments, and that excites me.
There is great beauty in classical music, but if we have not cultivated an appreciation for it, we may be bored by listening to a famous symphony that others find enthralling. Our ability to experience beauty is greatly affected by our attitudes, our past experiences and our knowledge.
If I were deaf, I do not think I would go to many concerts, and as a person with congenital blindness I choose not to go to many movies. Even with audio descriptions, I miss too much. Had I been sighted in the past, perhaps I would have a very different attitude about movies. I generally prefer reading a good book that can fully engage me. I can read about a place I have never been to or an experience I have never had and imagine it in my mind. The author’s words evoke sounds, smells, tastes, feelings, and so much more for me.
So how did I find beauty while visiting Sweden? As we approached our hotel in Stockholm, I noticed that the air smelled different, and I got the feeling I had been there before. The hotel elevator was smaller than I am used to, and the room just had a very different feel to it. Even the comforter on the bed was different. The electrical outlets were different, the bathroom sink was different, and even the cleaning products used in the hotel somehow smelled exotic to me. Someone else may not have noticed or cared about all of that, but I found it fascinating and exhilarating.
My wife Elaine and I rode on an old-fashioned ferry and I still recall the sound of the engine chugging. I captured an audio recording of a woman saying something in French in a very impassioned tone; I will remember the sound of her voice for the rest of my life. She must have seen something beautiful, and her excited exclamation was exquisite.
I also recorded some wonderful European bird sounds. I loved walking around the town with Elaine, and I was deeply grateful that she was well enough to enjoy herself immensely, even though she was in the midst of chemotherapy and radiation treatments.
We had a wonderful time in large part because we were prepared to find beauty. Her eyes and other senses were attuned, and my ears and nostrils were ready for action. My mind was open and my entire being was prepared to drink in and interpret new experiences. I loved riding the trains and double-decker tour buses, and I was innervated by the sounds and smells at a flea market.
We attended a Norwegian festival with a former employee of the Perkins School for the Blind who now lives in Sweden, and he and Elaine made sure I got to touch lots of things and talk to many of the exhibiters; it was wonderful.
My dear friend Jean, I will never be able to experience the world as you do, I cannot see buildings, seascapes, or sunsets, but I’m always on the lookout for other kinds of beauty that I can perceive and appreciate. There is abundant beauty and plenty of sadness in this world; I want and need to focus on the beauty.
Many blind folks and blindness professionals say most of the barriers we face result from how we are treated by sighted people. They say the inability to see would be a mere nuisance, were it not for the wide-spread misguided attitudes of the uninformed sighted public. Certainly how sighted folks treat us affects those of us who are blind, but our own attitudes also have a profound impact on our lives. I disagree with the notion that blindness is merely an inconvenience. It poses major challenges for me every day, and I do miss a lot, but blindness does not inherently degrade my quality of life.
My time is valuable to me, and I therefore choose enriching activities that are within my grasp. I try to use the senses I have to the utmost, not as a substitute for what I am missing but as a celebration of what I can perceive and enjoy. When I can remember to do that, I can soar like an eagle and enjoy life as much as anyone else, albeit in different ways.
About the author
Jerry Berrier, now retired, was manager of the Massachusetts and Rhode Island National Deaf-Blind Equipment Distribution Program, commonly known as iCanConnect, at Perkins School for the Blind.
He has worked as a technology consultant, specializing in adaptive electronic equipment used by people who are deafblind, and at Verizon’s Center for Customers with Disabilities. He is also the past president of the Bay State Council of the Blind, the Massachusetts affiliate of the American Council of the Blind and of VIBUG, a Boston-based group of technology users who are blind.
