35. The delight in the dark

I walk into complete darkness. Pitch black and voidness. The rest of my senses are heightened. I feel the distinct texture of surrounding objects. I hear the slightest crack from the door. As I totter my way to my seat, I began my conversation with complete strangers.

For a good 2 hours, I experienced what it’s like to be blind through the Dining in The Dark program by the Singapore Association of The Visually Handicapped.

It was frightening. To not be able to know what you are up against. To be so uncertain and not in control of things.

But soon, it started to feel comfortable. In some way, it felt soothing. I became so present in the moment. I was fully immersed in the smell of my food, the sound of my surrounding, the details of my conversations. I didn’t, or couldn’t, check my phone or get distracted by the noise that usually buzzes in my head. That is, if anything, what I call living in the moment.

As we talked, I became interested in the lady sitting opposite me. But because I knew her look before entering the room, I built a resistance. Had I not known what she looked like, had it been purely based on our chemistry and conversation, I would have been attracted to her.

At that moment, I realized how prejudiced I was. How I have sunk into the dogma of how I should or shouldn’t date someone of a certain type.

I quickly forced that creed out of my system. At least for those few hours, I let myself escape from what I’ve been dictated to think or do. I basked in the darkness and savoured good conversations without judgment.

Similarly, it felt good to know people are not or can not judge you. To know they did not and could not care about how you look or behave.

It’s oddly peaceful to not see. Not that I want to trade my vision, but life does feel a lot simpler in darkness.