Such a holiday from the self is extremely restful. Moreover, since it is generally the conscious ‘I’ that is responsible for poor seeing (either through harbouring negative emotions, or through misdirecting its attention, or in some other way ignoring nature’s rules for normal visual functioning), this temporary inhibition of the self’s activities is helpful in breaking the old habits of improper use and clearing the ground for the building up of new and better habits. In the Long Swing, the sensing-apparatus temporarily escapes from its bondage to a mind that misuses it by immobilizing it into a rigid stare, and learns once more how to function in a condition of free and unstrained mobility.
A variant of the Short Swing, which may be practised while sitting and in an inconspicuous manner, has been called the Pencil Swing. In this swing, the near-by object is a pencil (or one’s own forefinger will do just as well) held vertically about six inches in front of the nose. Swinging the head from side to side, one notes the apparent movement of the pencil across the more distant features of one’s environment. The eyes should be closed from time to time, and this apparent movement, should be followed with the inward eye of the imagination. When the eyes are opened, they may be focussed alternately on the pencil and on the more distant objects across which it seems to pass.
Swinging can and should be carried over from the periods specially set aside for it into the activities of daily life. Perfect vision is impossible without continuous movement of the sensing-apparatus and the attention; and it is by cultivating an awareness of the apparent movements of external objects that the staring eyes and immobilized mind can most easily and rapidly be educated out of their sight-impairing habits. Hence, for those with defective vision, the importance of applying the principle of the swing in every variety of visual situation.
To begin with, whenever you move, let the world go by and be aware of its going by. Note, as you walk or travel by car or bus, the approach and passing of trees, houses, lamp-posts, pavements. Indoors, when you turn your head, be conscious of the way in which near-by objects move across more distant objects, By becoming conscious of the seeming mobility of the environment, you increase the mobility of the eyes and mind and so create the conditions for better vision.
OTHER AIDS TO MOBILITY
Swinging is of fundamental importance in the re-establishment of normal visual functioning, and should be practised as much as possible. But there are also other procedures for cultivating habits of mobility and, indirectly, of central fixation. Here are a few of them.
Throw up a rubber ball with the right hand, and catch it, as it falls, in the left. Or, better, take a ball in either hand, throw up that in the right hand and, while it is in the air, transfer the ball in the left hand to the right hand, then use the left hand to catch the other ball as it comes down. By means of this rudimentary form of juggling one can impart to simple ball throwing a continuous easy rhythm, not present when a single ball is used. The eyes should be on the ball as it is thrown up by the right hand, should follow it up to the top of its trajectory and down again till it is caught by the left hand. (They should not stare up into the sky, waiting for the ball to appear within their field of vision.) After a long spell of close work, a brief interlude of this simple juggling will do much to loosen and relax the eyes.
Out of doors, this procedure can be used, not only to remind the eyes to move, but also to establish habits of light tolerance. Start by throwing the ball up against a dark background, such as a tree. Then move so that the ball has to be watched as it traverses the less brightly illuminated portions of the sky. ‘Think looseness’ as you watch it rise and fall, and blink frequently. Then, as the eyes and mind become accustomed to the light, move again, so that the ball has a yet brighter background. The last two or three throws may be made while one is almost facing the sun.
TEACHING THE EYES AND MIND TO MOVE
Dice and dominoes may also be used to restore to eyes and mind the mobility without which there can be no proper central fixation and, consequently, no normal seeing.
Take three or four dice, throw them on a table, glance quickly from one to another and then, after a second, turn away or close the eyes and name the numbers appearing on their upper faces. If the game is played by two people (as it always must be in the case of children), the instructor should throw the dice, give the pupil a second in which to glance from one to the other, then cover them with his hand and ask for the numbers. This procedure encourages rapid shifting of the attention and the eyes, and at the same time stimulates the interpreting mind in ways which will be described when we come to the subject of ‘flashing.’
Dominoes can also be used to break the habit of staring, and to spur the eyes and mind into the indispensable condition of mobility. Procure a set of dominoes — preferably a set which goes up to double nine, or even to double twelve. Arrange a random selection of the dominoes in, say, three rows of eight or ten each, within the lid of a cardboard box. Wedge them tightly, or glue them into place, so that the lid may be handled without upsetting the dominoes. Stand the lid on edge upon a table, so that the mosaic of dominoes faces you, as you sit at a convenient distance regarding them. Alternatively, if distant vision is beyond your powers, hold the lid in your hand, where the dominoes can be easily seen, increasing the distance as vision improves. Now, as rapidly as you can, name the numbers in the upper halves of the first row of dominoes; then in the lower halves; then in the upper and lower halves, successively, of the other rows. Do this without any thought of test-passing, with mind relaxed and eyes easily moving from domino to domino, and blinking at frequent intervals. Close the eyes for a few seconds between each row. Then start again, and name the number of dots, first, in each horizontal line of every figure on the upper and lower halves of the dominoes, next in each vertical line, next, in the diagonals. Then complicate the procedure a little by counting the total number of dots in the vertical lines of the upper and lower figures of each domino taken together.
Valuable in all case? of defective vision associated with strain and staring, these domino drills, together with the others which will be described in the chapter on ‘flashing,’ are particularly useful in cases of astigmatism.
Astigmatism occurs when the radius of curvature of the cornea is not the same in all meridians. Light rays passing through this distorted medium are focussed in an irregular way. In many sufferers, the condition shows a considerable measure of variability. Spectacles tend to fix the cornea rigidly in that particular condition of distortion present at the moment of the oculist’s examination. Consequently there is little hope of recovery, so long as one wears artificial lenses. But if the astigmatic person will discard his artificial lenses, learn the art of passive and dynamic relaxation, and cultivate habits of mental and ocular mobility, he can do much to diminish, or even altogether eliminate his disability. Dominoes are very easy to see; consequently the rapid shifting of eyes and mind, encouraged by the domino drills, is almost effortless. Tension is relaxed, and at the same time, as the eyes move from dot to dot, an enormous number of acts of sensing are performed, in this relaxed condition, through every part of the cornea. This seems to have the effect of ‘ironing out’ the distortions in the cornea. Exactly how, we do not know. But if, as seems likely, the disability was originally due to mental and muscular tensions, there is no cause for surprise if the disability should disappear when the sufferer has learnt the art of sensing and perceiving without tension. Anyhow, the fact remains that astigmatic persons see distinctly better after the domino drills than before. As old habits of visual functioning are broken down and replaced by new and better habits, the improvement tends to become permanent.
The ‘ironing-out’ process can often be accelerated by a procedure which may be described as a kind of concentrated or streamlined version of the domino drills. Take the lid, in which the rows of dominoes have been firmly fixed, and, holding it in both hands three or four inches before the face, move it backwards and forwards horizontally. This side-
to-side movement should not be greater than six or eight inches, and should be accompanied by a corresponding movement of the head in the opposite direction. Thus, when the lid is moved to the left, the head should be turned slightly to the right, and vice versa. No effort should be made to see the numbers on the individual dominoes, and the combined movement of lid and head should be just great enough to create the illusion that one is not looking at separate dots, but at more or less continuous lines, created by the apparent running together of the dots. After a minute or two of this horizontal swinging, the direction of movement should be changed to the vertical plane. Hold the lid with its long axis at right angles to the floor, and move it up and down, accompanying the movement of the hands with a movement of the head in an opposite direction, exactly as in the horizontal swing.
These exercises may seem rather odd, undignified and pointless. But the significant thing about them is that (in conjunction with the other procedures here described) they have helped many astigmatic people to improve their vision, first temporarily and later permanently.
CHAPTER XI
Flashing
THE PROCEDURE WHICH Dr. Bates called ‘flashing’ is important for what it does to foster mobility, and to increase the powers of the perceiving and interpreting mind.
Flashing may be described as the antithesis of staring. Instead of fixing the object with one’s regard, instead of immobilizing eyes and mind, and straining to see all parts of it equally well at the same time, one glances quickly at it (flashes it), then closes the eyes and remembers what has been sensed in the course of this rapid dart into the unknown.
After a little practice in flashing, one makes the interesting discovery that the sensing-apparatus takes in a good deal more than the perceiving mind is aware of — especially when the perceiving mind has built up bad habits of strain and effort. There is a sense in which we see without knowing it. It will be worth while, I think, to devote a few paragraphs to the discussion of this ‘unconscious vision’; for the subject is of considerable theoretical interest, as well as of great practical importance.
UNCONSCIOUS VISION
‘Unconscious vision’ is a somewhat inaccurate expression, which is applied to several distinct classes of phenomena.
There is, to begin with, the ‘unconscious vision’ we have when we make a rapid reflex movement to avoid some danger, which the eyes sense and the muscles react to, before the mind has had time to interpret the menacing sensum as a potentially dangerous external object. In such cases the nervous system works more quickly than the mind, which does not perceive and consciously see until after the danger-avoiding reaction has been initiated. During a fraction of a second, there has been unconscious vision and unconscious muscular activity.
Of a similar nature is the kind of ‘unconscious vision’ exhibited by a man who threads his way through traffic, or walks across difficult country, while engaged in conversation or sunk in thought. He has no distinct conscious awareness of the objects around him, and yet his body behaves as though he were aware — stopping and going, turning and avoiding obstacles, just as it would do, if his mind were on the problem of walking with safety, instead of being on his talk or his thoughts. In this case, the mind is in a position at any moment to become fully aware of what is being sensed, and occasionally it actually does become aware. In the intervals, however, there is a measure of unconscious vision — of sensing with a minimum of perceiving.
Finally, there is that most normal and commonplace kind of unconscious vision, which we have, at any given moment, of all those parts of the sense-field which we do not select for the purpose of perception. The world is filled with an infinity of objects; but at any given moment our concern is only with a very few of them. From the total visual field we select those sensa which happen to interest us, and leave the rest unattended to and unperceived. Where vision is normal, it is always physiologically and psychologically possible for us to select the sensa which in fact we do not choose to attend to or perceive. This type of unconscious vision is, in the last analysis, voluntary; if we don’t consciously see, it is simply because we don’t want to see, because it doesn’t suit us to see.
There are other cases, however, in which the unconsciousness is involuntary, in which the mind is incapable of making itself aware of what the eyes are sensing. When this happens, we look, but do not see. This may be due to the fact that nothing is sensed, or that the sensa are so extremely indistinct that they cannot possibly be interpreted. But this is by no means always the case. Sometimes sensing takes place, and the sensa are sufficiently distinct to be used for perceiving with. But in fact they are not so used; and though theoretically we might see what we look at, actually we do not see it. In such cases there is always a measure of ocular and mental strain, which is often related (primarily as cause and secondarily as consequence) to some habitual error of refraction. It is true that the unperceived sensa belonging to persons in such a condition of strain are more or less faint and indistinct. Nevertheless they can be interpreted and perceived as appearances of external objects. The fact that they are not so interpreted and perceived is due to the condition of strain, which interposes a kind of barrier between the sensing eyes and the perceiving mind.
Now, sensa (as Dr. Broad has concluded after considering all the available evidence) always leave ‘mnemic traces’ of the kind that may subsequently be revived and give rise to a memory-image. (Concerning the nature of these mnemic traces, or ‘engrams,’ nobody as yet knows anything at all. They may be purely physical, or purely psychological, or simultaneously physical and psychological. The only thing we are justified in assuming about them is that they exist and can give rise, under favourable conditions, to memory-images.)
The experience of those who have undertaken a course of visual re-education adds further weight to the evidence for the hypothesis that sensa leave traces, and can therefore be remembered, even when, at the time, they were unperceived by the conscious mind. When people with defective vision take a flashing glance at some object, it often happens that they do not see it at all, or see it only as a dim blur. But on turning away and closing the eyes, they frequently discover that they have a memory-image of what was sensed. Often this image is so extremely tenuous, that they are hardly conscious of its being there at all. But if they stop anxiously trying to bring it up into consciousness, and just make a random guess at its nature, it very frequently turns out that the guess is correct. From this we may conclude that it is possible for us to remember what we sensed, but did not see, provided always that the mental tensions associated with the conscious ‘I’ are relaxed, either through hypnosis, or by other, less drastic methods.
This final proviso is of the highest practical significance. Strain, as I have said, erects a barrier between the sensing eyes and the perceiving mind. But if the strained organs of vision are relaxed, as they can be by palming, sunning and swinging, the barrier is lowered; and though it may not be possible at first to perceive what the sensing-apparatus takes in, as it regards a given external object, it becomes increasingly easy, when the eyes are closed, to make a correct guess at the nature of the memory-image arising from the traces left by the act of sensing.
A good teacher can do much to help one in bringing up into consciousness the memory-images of what was merely sensed, not actually seen. Children, who are less self-conscious than their elders, respond particularly well to such a teacher’s suggestions and encouragements. For example, a child is shown some object, say a domino, or a printed letter, or word, from a distance at which he cannot normally see it. He is told to take a flashing glance at it, then close his eyes and ‘reach up into the air for it.’ The child obeys the order quite literally, raises a hand, closes it on emptiness, then lowers it, opens it, looks into his palm and gives the correct answer, as though he were reading from notes.
After a certain amount of practice, the barrier between sensing and perceiving (always present in persons with defective vision) is so far lowered that
unconscious vision (or the revival through memory of the traces left by sensing) gives place to conscious vision (or the perceiving of what is sensed in the same moment as it is sensed). In the early stages, there is generally a rather long interval between the act of sensing and the act of perceiving. Several seconds may elapse before the person can say what he has seen. The psychological barrier interposed by strain between the eyes and the mind has been lowered, indeed, but not yet completely eliminated. But as time goes on the interval is progressively shortened, until at last sensing and perceiving take place as they normally should, almost simultaneously.
TECHNIQUES OF FLASHING
Flashing, like swinging, can be practised during the activities of everyday life. For those whose vision is defective, the temptation to stare is always strong. Resist it, and acquire instead the habit of taking rapid glances at things, then averting or momentarily closing the eyes and remembering what was sensed. Billboards and shop-fronts provide excellent material on which to practise flashing, as one walks or is carried past them in car or bus. The mental attitude of one who is looking at the world in quick, brief flashes should be one of easy indifference. Just as, while swinging, one lets the world go by without making any effort to get to know it in detail, so, while flashing, one should rid one’s mind of any over-anxious desire to see, and just be content to glance, first outwards at the physical object, then inwards at the memory-image of it. If the inward image corresponds with the outward object, as seen at a second and nearer glance, well and good. If it fails to correspond, but is merely a blur, that also is well and good. Nothing is so unfavourable to seeing as the competitive, prize-winning, test-passing spirit. Efforts on the part of the conscious ‘I’ defeat their own object. It is when you stop trying to see that seeing comes to you.
Complete Works of Aldous Huxley Page 573
