Great things about being blind. Hearing colours?

I was bothered for several hours by that quote about 80 percent of a storytelling experience being visual.  It really perturbed me a great deal.  I thought,  "Wait a minute.  Here is something I thought was so accessible and you are telling me it isn't?  Darn sighted people!"  And then I thought more about sounds and how I am so lucky to hear what I hear.  I think what I hear is more tuned than what those with sight hear.  Not that my hearing is better or more acute.  Just that I focus on it more.  People often ask me about colours.  How I perceive colours.  I usually think of them as textures or sounds.  Tomorrow, I will write about the textures.  For today, I will focus on sound.  One of the things that drew me to storytelling was the sound and rhythm of the human voice.  The way people tell stories, there speech patterns, intonation, cadences.  Of course, I've always been a voratious reader so that storytelling was a natural fit for me there too.  But, back to sounds.  Voices evoke colours for me.  I imagine those bright, high clear voices as being gold or silver.  Deep rich voices as being dark colours.  Calm, soft quiet voices as being greens or blues.  Also being a musician and lover of music, music does for me what I imagine beautiful paintings or sunsets or awesome landscapes give to those who can see.  The hearing of an orchestra with all of its different timbres and colours would be (I would imagine) like looking at a painting.  Hearing beautiful harmonies sung is like that too.  So beautiful, so calming, so inspirational.  The cello is a dark colour, the flute is gold, the guitar is a rich blue, the drums are red or orange.  Every genre of music has a different sound, a different feel, a different colour to it.  When people say they feel sorry for me because I can't see, I should say that I feel sorry for them because they aren't hearing all they can hear. 

Great things about being blind. Having a guide dog in your guitar case.

I am very sad about losing my retired guide dog. But, as sad as I am, when I think of her, the fun memories are at the front of my mind. I hadn't thought of this one in ages. I am a Music Therapist and worked for many years in a long-term care facility with people with dementia. I also did a lot of palliative care work. All of my guides worked with me there. I don't do this often anymore so Tulia hasn't had that chance but she too would be very good at it. I play piano and guitar. I used to carry my guitar around to the rooms of residents and also to groups. The guitar case I had at that time had fur inside it. One time, I was visiting with a woman who was very depressed and stuck in bed. I pulled out my guitar to play for her. She wasn't sure if she wanted any music. I laid the open case on the floor and Gia jumped right in. Her head and front legs were in the narrow part where the guitar neck is. Her hind end and body were in the large part. The woman and I laughed and laughed.
Forever after, if given a chance, Gia would climb into the case and stay there all comfortable and off the hard floor while I played.
It became quite a regular sight.
Sometimes if I closed it she would tap the outside to get me to open it so she could climb in.
I touched that case last night as I moved through our spare room. As soon as I felt it's hard sides, I remembered Gia in there. I opened it, touched the fur, and smiled. When her ashes come home, I'll place the ern in the case for a few minutes I think.

Great things about being blind. All of my friends

The other day, I wrote a blog post about the fact that one of my sighted friends wrote me an e-mail about the amazing things about having a friend who is blind. I loved that e-mail and am still collecting comments on it and will post them in this blog in the coming days. I started thinking a lot about my friends though and want to make the following observations. I am glad there are amazing things about having friends who are blind. I've been totally blind since birth and blindness is definitely a part of who I am. Sometimes I wonder, if I hadn't been born blind, what career might I have chosen? Would I have been scared to interact with blind people? It is pretty interesting to think about and wonder about from time to time. Blindness, I am certain, has helped to make me the person I am. But, it is not the only thing that has. I am a woman. I am short. I am a storyteller and music therapist. I am a generally happy person. My sighted friends and relatives become embarrassed when they forget I am blind. If I ask how to lock their car door and they say, "Push down on the red button." If they hand me a photograph to check out. If they say, "Wow look at that!" They often apologize profusely afterwards. But, I am glad when people forget. It means that my blindness is not the thing that is always in their heads when they are with me. They are thinking of me not just as, "That blind girl." But as their friend. There is such a fine balance here. I don't mind answering questions. I don't mind the curiosity of the sighted. But I don't like to be the object of pity or as if I am a project to be taken on. One time in school, a girl asked if she could walk with me to class. We talked as we walked along. I could have found class by myself. I usually did. "You're at class now Kim," she said. I felt glad that she wanted to chat with me. As she turned away, I heard her say to her friend. "There. I just did my good deed for the day." I was shocked. Had I asked her to help me find class? No. I thought maybe we were becoming friends.

Sometimes, I like to be known as the blind girl by those who can't remember names.

There was a gentleman with Alzheimer's disease who lived in a nursing home where I worked. He loved music and had played instruments all of his life. He had no memory for names. I was the Music Therapist there and he would come looking for me. I didn't have a guide dog then or I probably would have been known as, "The girl with the dog." But I have one eye that is open and I can see a little bit out of that eye. The other eye is smaller and partly closed. I tried having an artificial shell in there but it bugged me a lot. Anyway, he used to say, "Where's old one eye? I want to see old one eye." I loved that. I knew that meant that he really was looking for me. Some staff used to get mad at him for calling me that but I loved it and it made me smile every time he said it. I love all of my friends because they are my friends and I hope that I am an equally good friend to them who happens to be blind.

Kim Kilpatrick

kimjkilpatrick@gmail.com

Storyteller, Presenter, Performer

Check out my web site and blog at

http://www.samobile.net/users/kimk/

I am proud to be a MASC artist.

Check out MASC and my profile at

http://www.masconline.ca

New blog about amazing things about being blind

http://kimgia3.blogspot.com

Great things about being blind. Air travel continued. Going through security

Well yes I did promise you the pilot story and we are getting to it. However, as I write, new memories come to me and I thought of a very funny one about going through security with my second guide dog Margaret. Margaret was a little yellow labrador. She was small but not as small as my little tiny Tulia dog. We worked at that time in a nursing home. I say we worked because all of my dogs did as much work as I did for sure. Seeing a dog in that environment did a lot of good for the residents. I was a Music Therapist there and inevitably when I would ask residents if they were coming to music, they would ask if that beautiful dog was going to be there. All three of my previous guides worked in this environment and although Tulia does not work there regularly, she had the pleasure of visiting while I played Christmas carols for residents in December. Anyway, Margaret and I were going through security at our local airport. Whenever guide dogs go through security, something in their equipment (leash, collar, harness) sets off the alarm. So security people have to take a look at them. Well, we went through and Margaret set it off. a man came up and said he would have to take a look at my dog. I assured him that this was fine as long as he didn't take her away from me. Just as he was looking at her, a woman charged out from behind the counter and said, "Wait a minute. That's Margaret. You don't need to look at Margaret. She is a therapy dog. and a guide dog." She worked in airport security but I knew her because her mom lived at the nursing home where I worked.