Hi,
My name is Armen. I take people on Blind Walks, among many other things. It's simple. Take turns being led blindfolded...in public. Talk about it. Right about it on this blog.
I do it, because I love connecting with people. I love being intimate with people. I love the conversation. The feeling. I love what not seeing helps me see. I love holding someone else's well being in my hands. And turning over my safety to them. I'm always looking for more people to have this experience with.
To read what people have said, scroll down.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
9 Into the Light...
Well Armen, that was an experience like I've never had before. On a full belly of Indian food we went out into the light on a beautiful day, only to have it taken away. Blindfolded, you spun me into a whirlwind until I thought about painting the sidewalk with masala and rice... Reoriented, but still blind, I took a step. Then another. Not knowing where I'm going one bit. But your reassuring hand in mine made me feel safe... And then the hand went away. On my own now, with little nudges from the back and underarm I gained a sense off false independence. Left to myself for 10 seconds, you saw me climb a banister, hit my head (which still hurts) turn around, and bang my knee into a bike rack. Thanks! Head in hand now, I needed guidance... Oh, how much power you held after I lost the use of just one sense. I mean I could smell, taste, touch, and hear. But I couldn't get ANYWHERE without you. This fascinated me. The trust that I gave you. My life was truly in your hands. Crossing streets. Buses whizzing by. Teeter tottering around fountains.
What fascinated me even more, perhaps because I trusted you already, was that without sight, I lost my overactive self consciousness. I usually hate being a public spectacle, but without so much as being able to see the people laughing at me, it didn't matter one bit. I think that this type of immersion into society could prove very beneficial in my growth process. I would love to do this again soon with added elements.
In a safe environment, you left me on my own to explore. I felt silly, like I was experiencing some kind of light deprivation hallucination, seeing beams flash before my closed eyelids... Pawing at the air, they disappeared. After being unblindfolded, I looked down to see the lights in the sidewalk. What a trip. What was even more of a trip was looking around. All of the detail of a modern metropolis was brilliant after 2 hours in the dark. Truly amazing what sense deprivation can bring about an appreciation for.
Onto the guiding side of things, I'd have to say I wasn't that great at showing you the way. Stumble after stumble, laugh after laugh, I realized that someone giving you their life and well-being in your hands is kinda difficult. I can't say that you enjoyed the toe stubs either. But hey, it's all part of learning. I was glad to experience the concepts of trust and trustworthiness today. Thank you for spending the time with me to do so. I hope to do it again.
-Ben Browner,
age 24
Seattle, WA
Response...
Dear Ben,
when we walked people weren't laughing at you. They were smiling, warm smiles. Like people smile at a baby. Everywhere we went. When we crossed the highway on the overpass, there were beautiful images all around. Strange clouds. Breath taking sunset. I wanted you to see. I didn't know how to translate the experience. And your safety demanded most of my energy.
Like a reckless child you were. Magnetically finding the sharpest edges. The one person sitting on a bench. The ledge that would have you tripping into a fountain. And you plowed your way through. Without concern. Which showed me. There is a warrior there. I felt like a father, constantly on alert. For you had this talent. Of getting into trouble. You moved by your own rhythm. There was no curbing that. Which tells me, you are a revolutionary.
You listened. And responded to my cues. Which tells me. You listen from the body.
When you started skipping, I wanted to boost you up. So you could jump higher. Really let it go. There were many times when I wanted to capture the scene on camera. But you were too active, too tactile, too daring, to give me time. Don't ever stop being those things.
As for me, I didn't mind the trips and stumbles when I was blind. There was one moment. When you had me climb onto something. And when I was atop, you pushed me, as if you were pushing me off a cliff. In that moment, I had a flash. A memory. Of being a soldier. A prisoner of war. Blindfolded. Getting thrown into a ditch. Execution style. I remember the feeling. Inside of me. A feeling of surrender and defiance. Surrender for not being able to change the situation. And defiance for having my spirit taken. And I remembered the countless times. When I was growing up. I had to endure humiliation and harassment from kids who were so angry and wounded themselves inside. And picked me as a target, because I stood out the most, and had the least amount of brothers and sisters, metaphorically speaking.
Of course in reality, your little nudge didn't take me anywhere but one step forward. However, in that moment. It was war! And I prepared myself to take a beating. The way only a warrior can.
When I was blind, I felt I saw your trickster self. And I say, go ahead. Pull your pranks. The world needs change. You are a gift in my life. A gift. And I hope we play. For a long, long time.
Thank you for being with me in this way...
Armen, 31
Seattle, WA
What fascinated me even more, perhaps because I trusted you already, was that without sight, I lost my overactive self consciousness. I usually hate being a public spectacle, but without so much as being able to see the people laughing at me, it didn't matter one bit. I think that this type of immersion into society could prove very beneficial in my growth process. I would love to do this again soon with added elements.
In a safe environment, you left me on my own to explore. I felt silly, like I was experiencing some kind of light deprivation hallucination, seeing beams flash before my closed eyelids... Pawing at the air, they disappeared. After being unblindfolded, I looked down to see the lights in the sidewalk. What a trip. What was even more of a trip was looking around. All of the detail of a modern metropolis was brilliant after 2 hours in the dark. Truly amazing what sense deprivation can bring about an appreciation for.
Onto the guiding side of things, I'd have to say I wasn't that great at showing you the way. Stumble after stumble, laugh after laugh, I realized that someone giving you their life and well-being in your hands is kinda difficult. I can't say that you enjoyed the toe stubs either. But hey, it's all part of learning. I was glad to experience the concepts of trust and trustworthiness today. Thank you for spending the time with me to do so. I hope to do it again.
-Ben Browner,
age 24
Seattle, WA
Response...
Dear Ben,
when we walked people weren't laughing at you. They were smiling, warm smiles. Like people smile at a baby. Everywhere we went. When we crossed the highway on the overpass, there were beautiful images all around. Strange clouds. Breath taking sunset. I wanted you to see. I didn't know how to translate the experience. And your safety demanded most of my energy.
Like a reckless child you were. Magnetically finding the sharpest edges. The one person sitting on a bench. The ledge that would have you tripping into a fountain. And you plowed your way through. Without concern. Which showed me. There is a warrior there. I felt like a father, constantly on alert. For you had this talent. Of getting into trouble. You moved by your own rhythm. There was no curbing that. Which tells me, you are a revolutionary.
You listened. And responded to my cues. Which tells me. You listen from the body.
When you started skipping, I wanted to boost you up. So you could jump higher. Really let it go. There were many times when I wanted to capture the scene on camera. But you were too active, too tactile, too daring, to give me time. Don't ever stop being those things.
As for me, I didn't mind the trips and stumbles when I was blind. There was one moment. When you had me climb onto something. And when I was atop, you pushed me, as if you were pushing me off a cliff. In that moment, I had a flash. A memory. Of being a soldier. A prisoner of war. Blindfolded. Getting thrown into a ditch. Execution style. I remember the feeling. Inside of me. A feeling of surrender and defiance. Surrender for not being able to change the situation. And defiance for having my spirit taken. And I remembered the countless times. When I was growing up. I had to endure humiliation and harassment from kids who were so angry and wounded themselves inside. And picked me as a target, because I stood out the most, and had the least amount of brothers and sisters, metaphorically speaking.
Of course in reality, your little nudge didn't take me anywhere but one step forward. However, in that moment. It was war! And I prepared myself to take a beating. The way only a warrior can.
When I was blind, I felt I saw your trickster self. And I say, go ahead. Pull your pranks. The world needs change. You are a gift in my life. A gift. And I hope we play. For a long, long time.
Thank you for being with me in this way...
Armen, 31
Seattle, WA
Sunday, December 20, 2009
8 Traveling by Touch
If you didn't invite me I probably never would have gone for it, even though I really wanted to. I decided constant touch was the best way to guide if I couldn't be verbal. But, as we discussed, I had to balance between being oppressively in control and keeping the experience free-flowing. If anything, though, I wanted you to feel safe. This was excellent exercise for both my body and spirit at once. I was fully willing to trust you when I was blind, but I also found it interesting that I needed to deeply trust myself when you were blind. It was such an engaging chore to guide you. I easily lost track of time when I had to see for two. As soon as I was blind I felt we were constantly walking toward a cliff. But we went through a wormhole instead. I walked for some time, but I felt no real shift across space. Between putting the blindfold on in the greenhouse and taking it off at your door, everything happened on the other side of reality. I'm very glad to have been liberated from my assumptions and constructions of the world when you took up the chore of guiding. I was a kid again, waiting to see where we were going and how we would get there and what it would be like once we did. I want to keep seeing the world as I did when I couldn't see it. I will try to keep feeling it as I did when I led you.
Jeremy Horlacher, 30
Seattle, WA
Response...
You were like the ocean to me. Blue. Vast. Depth uncharted. There was a quiet mist around you. A haze that caused me to conclude that you feel and think vastly. Looking, liquid. Like the ocean, at every crevice of this life space continuum. I wondered if your silence was the choice of shyness, or the choice of keeping it in the realm of the sea. Regardless, I wanted to see, through your eyes. To see what it looked like to you.
Had you not revealed, that you wanted to go on this walk but couldn't ask, I wouldn't now have the courage to begin asking more people to go. Wondering who else might be really wanting, but shy. For me that's big, as I lived so much of my life feeling uncomfortable asking people to be with me in some way. You opened my eyes like that.
And thank you for taking me to the botanical gardens. For introducing me to another safe haven in the city. To sit, and touch, and commune with my plant friends, and rest my sometimes weary bones. Our walk was sweet to me. Like the kaleidoscope view of the sea, vast and blue, on a breezy summer day. Knowing, there is depth and strangeness lurking underneath the skin. Waiting for it to emerge.
Sacred.
Armen, 31
Seattle, WA
Jeremy Horlacher, 30
Seattle, WA
Response...
You were like the ocean to me. Blue. Vast. Depth uncharted. There was a quiet mist around you. A haze that caused me to conclude that you feel and think vastly. Looking, liquid. Like the ocean, at every crevice of this life space continuum. I wondered if your silence was the choice of shyness, or the choice of keeping it in the realm of the sea. Regardless, I wanted to see, through your eyes. To see what it looked like to you.
Had you not revealed, that you wanted to go on this walk but couldn't ask, I wouldn't now have the courage to begin asking more people to go. Wondering who else might be really wanting, but shy. For me that's big, as I lived so much of my life feeling uncomfortable asking people to be with me in some way. You opened my eyes like that.
And thank you for taking me to the botanical gardens. For introducing me to another safe haven in the city. To sit, and touch, and commune with my plant friends, and rest my sometimes weary bones. Our walk was sweet to me. Like the kaleidoscope view of the sea, vast and blue, on a breezy summer day. Knowing, there is depth and strangeness lurking underneath the skin. Waiting for it to emerge.
Sacred.
Armen, 31
Seattle, WA
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