It’s hard to describe what it is that I see. For one thing, I see differently at different times and in different places. This all depends on ...well, I’m not sure what exactly it depends on. Let me try to explain.
When I go for an eye exam, my optometrist tells me that she measures my sight by my ability to count fingers. This usually occurs in the dimly lit exam room after she has already shone a super bright light towards my retinas. Truthfully, I am lucky if I see well enough to actually be able to count the fingers she is holding in front of me.
However, this sight measurement is totally inaccurate as to what I am able to see after I leave her office and enter the more brightly lit reception area. The change from dark to light or vice versa has an instant effect on what I am able to see. I am unable to see in the dark but good light makes a difference.
Changes in light happen in more subtle ways in the real world too. Last week, when I was walking along my regular path by the river, I could see almost nothing in front of me. The sun was shining and the shadows from the trees disguised the edges of the path. The snow had disappeared and the gray path blended into the dull brown grass along the edges. I walked slowly trusting my walking sticks to find the more solid asphalt of the trail.
Then the following day, I walked the same route again. Lyle was surprised that I had picked up my walking pace. This was because I could see so much better. The day was cloudy. There weren’t any shadows dancing around and there wasn’t any glare. The change in light had made a huge difference.
While changes in light make a difference to the way I see, changes in me also make a difference. If I am feeling unwell, I know that I don’t see as well. Perhaps this has something to do with my concentration. I know that if I am overtired, the same thing happens. I think that it does take more effort for a visually challenged person to get through the day than it does for a fully sighted person.
Then there is brain memory. In familiar surroundings, if I concentrate, I think that I can sort of see things that I know are there. Does this sound confusing? I know that I don’t quite understand the phenomenon. When I sit in my living room, I know that I can’t see the couch on the other side of the room or the picture on the wall. Yet, my brain tells me exactly what I know to be there and in a kind of weird way, I believe that I can actually see or perhaps visualize them.
So, what do I see? I suppose the answer depends on where I am and how I am feeling.
