A Reflection

 TO SEE AND NOT SEE, by Oliver Sacks

Learning about Virgil’s early diagnosis and illness, and the reliance he had on the part of the retina that was not completely destroyed puts our senses into perspective when understanding that Virgil was only able to see the indication of light, dark, and subtle shadows. Sacks explains that Virgil’s new ability to see after the surgery came with some problems when he states that he “Has to think faster, not able to trust vision yet….”. It prompts the question of, what is the meaning of seeing, and how might we best approach it? 

I really appreciated the reference to John Locke’s quote from the text “Suppose a man born blind, and now adult, and taught by his touch to distinguish between a cube and a sphere [be] made to see: [could he now] by his sight, before he touched them … distinguish and tell which was the globe and which the cube?” (page 1). I agree with Sacks that experience is necessary to truly see. Seeing is many of our first experiences as newborns right out of the womb, and we learn, with each passing second, what things look like, what our families and friends look like, our favorite colors, and so much more. I wonder what was going through Virgil’s mind once his bandages were removed, and seeing the face of his fiancé for the first time. Was it similar to what he had imagined, or was it like nothing he has ever dreamed of? Of course he had probably learned what faces feel like, where the bottom of the nose soon meets the lips, or where the cheeks are in relation to the ears. But he did not know what a face really looks like, so I can’t quite imagine how blurry, confusing, and new it must have been for him to connect the voices around him to where they were coming from. It’s warming to learn that Virgil had such a personality and so many interests as a blind and handicapped person. His love for baseball games on the radio, his friendships, and his career as a massage therapist demonstrates how his disability really is an art in itself and an ingenious way to live. He had limitations, but things were stable. He was making a life for himself. When he was able to see better, before he got sick again, Sacks shared how fascinated he was with cars, buses, and landscapes. It is understandable that busy crowded stores overwhelmed him; the fast movement, the bright lights, signs, people everywhere. How can one expect for him to grasp that immediately, or at all? We spend our entire early childhoods deciphering what is what, but Virgil spent over 40 years in a different world. I think the significance of Sacks’ repetitive word choice in the last paragraph of the text… “Now, at last, Virgil is allowed to not see, allowed to escape from the glaring, confusing world of sight and space, and to return to his own true being…” (page 13) is ultimately beautiful and true. Virgil had given so much, endured operations, recoveries, learning to live with his disability, especially all of the people who researched his story, studied him, and tested him constantly. All of the difficult questions he endlessly answered of “what do you see?”, and, “what can’t you see?” After getting ill again and Virgil returned to his mostly blind state, he was back in his familiar home again, and it is safe to say that he has given his mental and physical all into his disability, granting him to return to the way of life that was  distilled in him.