BY ANASTASIA BARTLETT
“Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see a shadow.” Helen Keller
I was nine when I was fitted for my first pair of glasses. The drama queen within was sure I was losing my sight, so I practised being blind whenever I could.
In my early years as a swimming instructor, I took a course in adapted aquatics which enabled instructors to teach swimming to people whose physical abilities lay outside of the average population’s. We learned to adapt lessons for people with paralysis, who were missing limbs, or for people who communicated differently.
Each student simulated a situation while their partner experimented with ways to adapt to it. At the very first session, I was handed a pair of blacked-out goggles to simulate blindness. My partner’s task was to introduce me to the facility, help me to swim and to jump off the one metre board. I had never been in this pool before and I was thrilled to use some of the skills I had practised as a kid.
The tour was thorough. My partner held my arm as we walked around the facility and she described everything to me. As she spoke, I created a picture of the pool, the ladders, the exits, the shallow and deep ends and was pretty sure I could find my way around by myself if I had to. That was the easy part.
Then we entered water at the shallow end and walked towards the deep end until I could no longer touch bottom and began to swim. This was harder but as long as my head stayed above the water I could still hear my partner as she swam beside me, describing the water around me, warning me about other swimmers and keeping me straight in the lane. As long as I could hear her voice through the echoing din of the pool and trusted she wasn’t going to lead me astray, I was comfortable.
After a couple of lengths, we decided to try the board. She physically guided me up the ladder and walked me to the end, then gently slipped into the water. Alone, I stood on the board, my toes curled over the edge with a slight sense of panic as I started to feel dizzy. Then I heard my partner’s voice in front of me as she encouraged me to jump. I concentrated on her voice and jumped before I fell. I hit the water… and became totally disorientated. I didn’t know which way was up and I needed air. Before I could rip off the goggles, I felt a hand grab my arm and pull me to the surface. We swam back to the shallow end where I removed my goggles.
The facility was completely different from what I had imagined. That combined with my underwater disorientation made me realize the reality of the blind was not the reality of the sighted.
“But the one who hates his brother is in the darkness and walks in the darkness, and does not know where he is going because the darkness has blinded his eyes.” 1 John 2:11
Because of love, Jesus healed the blind, the deaf, the lame and resurrected the dead. These were physical manifestations pointing His followers towards a greater spiritual reality, the God of Love and His kingdom.
In this fallen world, I am blind, stumbling through the darkness with others equally blind trying to grasp the shape of reality based on their descriptions.
“A blind man cannot guide a blind man, can he? Will they not both fall into a pit?” Luke 6:39
I need a guide who can see, even a little, and who is willing to help me find my way. In the Orthodox church we call those guides, saints.
The saints teach me to discern the shepherd’s voice from amongst the worldly cacophony and to humbly obey it in love. They encourage me to trust God and to love all others. They pull me from the depths of despair into light, into life and the reality of Kingdom of Heaven here and now.
Veiled shadows cannot be seen if I am always facing Christ.
Anastasia Bartlett attends St. Aidan’s Orthodox Church in Cranbrook. Pastor of St. Aidan’s, Father Andrew Applegate, can be reached at 250-420-1582