Yes I am blind, and have been from an early age, I was three years of age so they tell me when I lost my sight: And yet I have no memories of when I could see, and when I could not, for what memories does a small boy have at that age, I have trawled the nether regions of my sub conscious mind for lost images, and at best, am only able to grasp at vague shapes.

You ask me, what’s it like being blind? And no sooner has the words spilled from your mouth that you wish, you had never spoken them, you wonder how I know? I sense your unease, I feel your embarrassment, but you are a curious soul rather than an inquisitive one.  You could say that over time I have acquired some other intuitive senses that make up for my lack of sight, or as you would perceive it, as my great loss. Do not pity or feel sorry for me for that would make your question insincere and redundant, but rather see me as your equal.

You asked me what it is like being blind? And my answer to you is a simple one, I have nothing in which to compare my blindness to one who can see and one who cannot, but I will not shy away from your question. You see there is no definitive starting point, from which I may start: in a way that you would understand and so the best place to start is to start from my earliest memories.

It was my fifth birthday, and I remember the atmosphere, the smell, the excitement, the anticipation, but most of all I remember the sadness. There was no sadness on my behalf: It came  from my parents, aunts, uncles and cousins, I sensed  their lack of joy: it was as if they somehow felt guilty because they could see and I could not, it was my first memory of me; being different from everyone else in my sphere, and because of their sadness. I then became aware of a change although subtle; a change non-the-less. Isn’t it strange? How older people think of children, as having no place, feelings or intuitive senses. How gravely mistaken they are! But no matter, for they often mean well.

I was blessed by a loving family, and when they understood that I saw myself as their equal, they in turn treated me as such. I cannot say as much for other well meaning folk, and sadly it is an indictment of the society in which we live, that most people see anyone with an affliction as abnormal  yet there are none so blind as those who refuse to see. That the so called afflicted: have precious gifts to share as well as an abundance of love to give.

However, I digress from my narrative, suffice to say that as I grew older the more I developed my  psychic abilities with much help from the spiritual realm. You must not think that my life was an idyllic one; for I had my share of troubles as well as joys. It is exceedingly hard to convince others that have hardened hearts that there is another world beside them, especially when that person is blind. For what the blind can see, that the sighted can’t, is an entirely different matter all together.

As for myself, all I can say is this.I see no colours , nor landscape or structure in this world for I have no need to. I see the most remarkable colours, landscape and structure in the spiritual world, but can offer no proof.

I hear you crying, it is the sound of joy, and so it should be, for all is well with you on this day.

Michael Mullins

Source writers group


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