Author: Aldous Huxley
Category: Literature
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In some cases of defective vision, the state of mental and physical tension is so extreme, that the sufferers have lost the habit of ‘letting go,’ even when remembering. The result is that they have the greatest difficulty in recalling anything. Experienced teachers of the Bates Method have told me of pupils who came to them, incapable of remembering, ten seconds after the event, whether they had been looking at letters, numerals or pictures. As soon as the eyes and mind had been somewhat relaxed by means of palming, sunning, swinging and shifting, the power to remember returned. The imperfect vision and the state of virtual imbecility, into which the inability to remember had plunged these unfortunate people, were due to the same fundamental cause — improper functioning, associated with a high degree of mental and nervous muscular strain.
Fortunately, such cases are not common; and the majority of those who suffer from defects of vision, due to, or aggravated by, mental and physical strain, still preserve the good habit, acquired unconsciously through the teachings of everyday experience, of ‘letting go’ whenever they make an act of remembering. That is why it is possible, with most individuals, to make use of memory as an aid to mind-body relaxation and, through mind-body relaxation, to vision. A person with defective sight looks, let us say, at a printed letter and fails to see it distinctly. If he closes his eyes, ‘lets go’ and remembers something which it is easy for him to remember — remembers it clearly and distinctly — he will find, on re-opening his eyes, that his vision has perceptibly improved.
Because it is impossible to remember anything clearly without ‘letting go,’ improvement of vision will follow the act of remembering any object or episode, even one totally unconnected with the thing which, at the moment, it is desired to see. But if the memory is actually of this thing, or of some similar thing seen in the past, then the act of remembering will be doubly effective in improving vision; for it will result, not only in producing a beneficent relaxation of the mind-body, but also in an increased familiarity with the object under consideration. But we see most clearly those things with which we are most familiar. Consequently, any procedure which makes us more familiar with the object we are trying to see makes it easier for us to see it. But every act of remembering that object, or another one like it, increases our familiarity with it, and so improves our vision of it. It is because of this fact that several of the most important memory and imagination drills are concerned with the detailed remembering or visualizing of the letters and figures which we are so constantly being called upon to see, both at the near point and in the distance.
In the light of these preliminary explanations it will be easy, I hope, for the reader to understand the various procedures now to be described.
MEMORY AS AN AID TO VISION
The value of what I have called analytical looking can be enhanced by supplementing this procedure with deliberate acts of memory. Look at objects in the way described in an earlier chapter — shifting the attention rapidly from point to point, following the outlines and counting the salient features of what you are looking at. Then close your eyes, ‘let go’ and conjure up the clearest possible memory-image of what you have just seen. Re-open the eyes, compare this image with the reality, and repeat the process of analytical looking. Close the eyes, and once more evoke the memory-image of what you have seen. After a few repetitions, there will be an improvement in the clarity and accuracy both of the memory-image and of the visual image recorded when the eyes are open.
It is a good thing to practise these acts of analytical looking and remembering in relation to the objects of one’s everyday environment, such as the furniture of the rooms in which one lives and works, the shops and billboards, trees and houses of the streets one ordinarily frequents. This will have three good results: it will break up the habit of staring, and encourage central fixation; it will compel the mind to put itself into the state of alert passivity, of dynamic relaxation, which alone is conducive to accurate remembering, and, incidentally, to clear vision; and it will greatly increase the mind’s knowledge of and familiarity with the objects it must see most frequently, and, by doing so, will greatly facilitate the task of seeing these objects.
Nor is this all. The procedure outlined above is also beneficial inasmuch as it teaches a proper co-ordination between the mind and its sensing-apparatus. Too many of us spend altogether too much of our time looking at one thing and thinking of another — seeing just enough to avoid running into trees or under buses, but at the same time day-dreaming so much that, if anyone were to ask us what we had seen, we should find it almost impossible to answer, for the good reason that, though we had sensed a great deal, we had consciously perceived almost nothing. This dissociation of the mind from its eyes is a fruitful cause of impairment of vision, particularly when, as is very frequently the case, the day-dreaming person sits with open eyes, staring fixedly and unblinkingly at one point. If you must day-dream, close your eyes, and, with your inward vision, consciously follow the wish-fulfilling episodes fabricated by the imagination. Similarly, when engaged in logical thought, do not stare at some external object unconnected with the problem under consideration. If the eyes are kept open, use them to do something relevant to the intellectual processes going on within the mind. For example, write notes which the eyes can read, or draw diagrams for them to study. Alternatively, if the eyes are kept closed, resist the temptation of immobilizing them — a temptation which is always strong when one is making an effort at mental concentration. Let the inward eye travel over imaginary words, diagrams or other constructions relevant to the thought process which is taking place. The aim at all times should be to prevent the occurrence of dissociations between mind and sensing-apparatus. When the eyes are open, make a point of seeing and of being conscious of what you see. When you don’t want to see, but to dream or think, make a point of associating the eyes with your dreaming or thinking. By allowing the mind to go one way and the eyes another, you run the risk of impairing your vision, which is a product of the co-operation between a physical sensing-apparatus and a selecting and perceiving intelligence.
IMPROVING THE MEMORY OF LETTERS
For good as well as for evil, reading has now become one of the principal occupations of civilized humanity. Inability to read easily, whether at the near point or at a distance, is a serious handicap in the contemporary world. The art of reading will be discussed at length in one of the later chapters of this book. Here, I shall describe certain procedures, by means of which the forces of memory and imagination can be mobilized for the improvement of our vision of those basic constituents of all literature and science, the twenty-six letters of the alphabet and the ten numerals.
One of the curious facts discovered by teachers who undertake the re-education of sufferers from defective vision is that very large numbers of people do not have a clear mental image of the letters of the alphabet. Capitals, it is true, are familiar to almost everyone — perhaps because it is upon capital letters that the young child first practises the art of reading. But lower-case letters, though looked at hundreds of times each day, are so imperfectly known that many persons find it hard to reproduce them exactly, or to recognize a given letter from its description in words. This widespread ignorance of the forms of letters bears eloquent witness to the dissociation between eyes and mind, described in the preceding paragraphs.
In this matter of reading, we are such greedy end-gainers that we neglect to consider, not merely the psycho-physical means whereby we may accomplish the task most effectively, but also the external, objective means, upon which the whole process of reading depends, namely the letters of the alphabet. There can be no improvement in our ability to read until we have made ourselves thoroughly familiar with the letters, of which all reading matter is composed. Here again it is a question of combining analytical looking with acts of remembering.
Examine a letter, not with a fixed stare, but easily and with a rapid shift of the attention from one point to another. Close the eyes, ‘let go’ and e
voke the memory-image of what you have seen. Re-open the eyes, and check the accuracy of your memory. Repeat the process until the memory-image is thoroughly accurate, distinct and clear. Do the same with all the letters — and, of course, all the numerals as well. The exercise may be repeated occasionally, even when you think you know all the letters perfectly. Memory can always be improved; besides, the act of remembering brings relaxation, and this relaxation, combined with the heightened familiarity which comes of better memory, will always tend to improve the vision.
When looking at letters, with the aim of familiarizing oneself with their forms, it is well to pay attention, not only to the black print, but also and above all to the white background immediately surrounding the letters and included within them. These areas of whiteness around and within letters and numerals have curious and striking shapes, which the mind enjoys getting to know and, because of its interest in them, remembers easily. At the same time, there is less possibility of mental strain involved in considering the blank background than in considering the black marks upon that background. It is often easier to see a letter when it is regarded as an interruption to the whiteness of the paper than when it is looked at without conscious reference to the background, merely as a pattern of straight and curved black lines.
This process of familiarizing oneself with letters, by analytical looking and remembering, may profitably be supplemented by a drill involving the systematic use of imagination. Examine the letter as before, paying attention to the shapes of the background around and within it. Then close the eyes, ‘let go,’ evoke a memory-image of the letter and then deliberately imagine that the white background around and within it is whiter than it was actually seen to be — as white as snow or sunlit cloud or porcelain.
Re-open the eyes and look again at the letter, shifting as before from background-shape to background-shape, and trying to see these shapes as white as you imagined them with your eyes shut. In a little while you will find that you can, without difficulty, create this beneficent illusion. When you succeed in doing so the black of the printer’s ink will seem blacker by contrast, and there will be a perceptible improvement in vision.
Sometimes, by way of change, one may use the imagination in an analogous way upon the black letter itself. Seated before the calendar, pay attention first to the top of a numeral or letter, then to the base (or first to the left side and then to the right). After a few repetitions, close the eyes, ‘let go’ and continue to do the same thing to your memory-image of the numeral or letter. Then, in imagination, apply two spots of intenser blackness, one to the top and the other to the base, or one on the left and the other on the right. If you find it helpful, imagine yourself applying these spots with a fine paint brush impregnated with India ink.
Shift from one blacker spot to the other several times; then open the eyes and try to see the same blacker spots at the top and base, or on the left and right sides, of the real letter. This will not be difficult, because, owing to central fixation, you actually will see that part of the letter or numeral, which you are attending to, more clearly than the rest. But imagine the spots to be even blacker than central fixation warrants. When you succeed in doing this, the whole letter will seem blacker than before, and will therefore be seen more clearly and remembered more distinctly for future reference.
These two procedures — shifting first in imagination, then in reality, from one area of whiter-than-actual whiteness to another area of whiter-than-actual whiteness, and from one more intensely black dot to another more intensely black dot at the opposite end of the letter — are particularly helpful in improving vision, and should be used (in conjunction, if possible, with palming and sunning) whenever the print of a book, or a distant billboard or notice, shows signs of blurring.
Certain other procedures involving imagination have also proved their worth in visual education. The first three closely resemble the small-scale swinging shift — indeed, are swinging shifts, but of an exclusively mental kind.
Imagine yourself seated at a writing-table, with a pad of thick white notepaper before you. Still in imagination, take a pen or a fine paint brush, dip it in India ink and, at the centre of the first sheet of paper, make a round black dot. Now pay attention to the white background immediately adjoining the right side of the dot, then to that immediately adjoining the left, and repeat, swinging rhythmically back and forth. As in reality, the imaginary dot will appear to move to the left, when you shift attention to the right, and to the right, when you shift attention to the left.
The following variant on the single dot may be used if desired. On another sheet of imaginary paper inscribe two dots, about four inches apart, and between them, but about an inch below them, a circle of about half an inch in diameter. Imagine this circle very black, and the white space within it intensely white. Then shift the inward eye from the dot on the right, to the dot on the left, and repeat the action rhythmically. The movement of the circle will be in the opposite direction to that of the attention.
Next, in your imagination, take another sheet of paper and trace upon it a giant colon, composed of two big dots about half an inch apart, and next to it, half an inch to the right, a semi-colon of the same proportions. Now, shift the attention from the upper dot of the colon to the upper dot of the semi-colon; then down to the comma of the semi-colon; then, left, to the lower dot of the colon; and from that, vertically, to the upper dot. Repeat this rhythmic shifting round and round the square composed by the three round dots and the comma. As the mind’s eye travels to the right, the constellation of punctuation marks will appear to move to the left; as the attention descends, it will seem to go up; as it shifts to the left, the apparent movement will be to the right; and as it moves up to its original starting point, the dots will seem to descend.
These three procedures combine the merits of the small-scale swinging shift with those of the imagination drill. The mind has to relax enough to be able to mobilize its memory-images of punctuation marks, and combine them into simple patterns, while the attention (and consequently the physical eyes) is made to cultivate the sight-producing habit of the small-scale swinging shift — a shift which, in the third procedure, becomes a rhythmic version of the analytical regard.
The following procedure was devised by a Spanish follower of Dr. Bates, and the author of a book and various articles on the method, Dr. R. Arnau.
It is a kind of imaginary shifting swing — but a shifting swing with a difference, inasmuch as it seems to involve the physical apparatus of accommodation in ways which the ordinary swinging shift does not.
Imagine yourself holding between the thumb and forefinger a ring of stout rubber or wire, sufficiently rigid to retain its circular shape when not interfered with, but sufficiently elastic to assume, when squeezed, the form of an ellipse. Close the lids, and regard this imaginary ring, running the inward eye all around it. Then, with your imaginary hand, gently squeeze the ring laterally, so that it is deformed into an ellipse with the long axis running vertically. Look at this ellipse for a moment, then relax the pressure of your hand and allow the ring to return to its circular form. Now, shift the position of the thumb and forefinger from the sides of the ring to the top and bottom, and squeeze. The ring will be distorted into an ellipse with the long axis running horizontally. Relax the pressure, watch the ellipse re-transform itself into a circle, shift the position of thumb and forefinger to the sides of the ring and repeat the whole procedure ten or fifteen times, rhythmically. Exactly what happens, physiologically, as one watches, in imagination, the successive transformations of circle into vertically orientated ellipse, vertically orientated ellipse into circle, circle into horizontally orientated ellipse, and horizontally orientated ellipse into circle, it is hard to say. But there can be no doubt, from the sensations one feels in and around the eye, that considerable muscular adjustments and re-adjustments are continually taking place as one goes through this cycle of visualizations. Subjectively, these sensations seem to be the same as
those experienced when one shifts the attention rapidly from the distance to a point very near the eyes and back again. Why the apparatus of accommodation should come into play under these conditions, it is not easy to understand. But the fact remains that it seems to do so. It is found empirically that this drill, while valuable in all forms of visual defect, is particularly useful in cases of myopia.
Another excellent procedure, which is simultaneously an exercise in mind-body co-ordination, an imagination drill, and a small-scale shift, is ‘nose-writing.’ Sitting down comfortably in an easy chair, close your eyes and imagine that you have a good long pencil attached to the end of your nose. (Lovers of Edward Lear will remember his pictures of the ‘Dong.’) Equipped with this instrument, move your head and neck so as to write with your protracted nose upon an imaginary sheet of paper (or, if the pencil is thought of as being white, on an imaginary blackboard) eight or nine inches in front of your face. Begin by drawing a good-sized circle. Since your control over the movements of the head and neck is less perfect than your control of the hand, this circle will certainly look a bit angular and lopsided to the eyes of your imagination. Go over it half a dozen times, round and round, until the thickened circumference comes to look presentable. Then draw a line from the top of your circle to the bottom, and go over it six times. Draw another line at right angles to the first and go over that in the same way. Your circle will now contain a St. George’s Cross. Superimpose upon it a St. Andrew’s Cross, by drawing two diagonals, and finish off by jabbing with your imaginary pencil at the central meeting-place of the four lines.
Tear off your scribbled sheet of paper, or, if you prefer to work in white on a blackboard, visualize yourself wiping away the chalk with a duster. Then, turning the head gently and easily from one shoulder to the other, draw a large infinity sign — a figure of eight, lying on its side. Go over it a dozen times, paying attention, as the inward eye travels with the imaginary pencil, to the way in which the successive repetitions of the figure coincide or diverge.