I was in the Central Park shortly after my stereopsis had just appeared, on the 30th and the 31st of July. I recall a fountain that took a lot of space, more than usually, both in terms of height and in terms of covering the ground. Fountains in general are much more interesting with stereopsis because they often involve complicated configurations of streams of water, and the appreciating of the whole downward movement of the water in the fountain also came to me with stereopsis. I recall street lamps hanging above the sidewalk, even though the stands were standing on the side, not on the path. I had always known that the stands of the streetlamps were not on the sidewalk, but had failed to notice that the actual lamps were actually above the sidewalk that they were supposed to lighten. It actually makes sense from an engineering point of view.
Yesterday I went for another walk. I took the subway to Columbus Circle, and even though I had seen it with stereopsis, was impressed by the open space and how subway arrives right in the middle and under the ground level. Just like I previously explained about gravity and the directions "up" and "down", I never really felt that subway was underground, I only understood it. This is, in spite of the fact that St. Petersburg has a very deep subway - I guess, it is difficult to construct tunnels in a swamp.
From Columbus Circle I went towards the Lincoln Center. It is indeed quite impressive, much more than I had thought during the previous visits. It is interesting how the size of the buildings matches with what I know is inside. You can look at it and imagine what the space inside feels like. Previously I did not have such a feeling of space. For example, I remember many years ago there was a discussion of how high was the ceiling in some apartment. I don't remember if it was our apartment or not, and I don't remember the discussion either. What I do remember is how I wondered if the height of the ceiling made any difference, except if you had very tall people coming to visit you.
Then I went to the park. I think that the stereopsis for distant periphery and generally large objects had already been established well enough, so that now those objects started to form surfaces and configurations. I was no longer just seeing in 3d that one object was on top of another, or that there was space under a bridge, or that a streetlamp was hanging above the road, but this information was sometimes coming together to create an awareness of a more complex landscape, with a deeper understanding of the spatial relationships between the parts involved. It could be comparing to studying any discipline, to any learning: at first you see isolated relationships, then those come more and more together to form a big picture. Here "big picture" is not just peripheral vision.
I cannot quite explain the feeling. Imagine that you are visiting a foreign country, but you do not know the language. You see a sign over a door, but you do not know what it means. However, if you know that this sign means "coffee", then seeing this sign can and often bring to your mind whatever it is that you associate with coffee - taste, smell, childhood memories. Even if you do not start thinking specifically about coffee with your conscious mind, there can still be an awareness that tells you: you remember the smell and the taste of coffee, even though you are not actively recalling this smell and this taste at the moment.
I think that with vision we see different parts of land filled with different objects, such as a park filled with trees, or a city filled with buildings, and we sense, we extrapolate that the space around those trees or buildings carries some of the same properties. Then when we physically are in this space between the trees or between the buildings, we feel that we come in touch with something. So this is why being in a room can feel very different from being in the forest, which can feel very different from being in a cathedral, which can feel very different from being in a parking lot. I had never really felt this difference as acutely as during the last few weeks. I had probably started to get this feeling of space a few days before my vision transformed.
Even though everything is now so interesting, I still have to make an effort to take it in. I still have to make an effort to look around, to see what's in front of my eyes, just as I have to make an effort to walk, because, technically speaking, walking requires some amount of effort. Fortunately, I have taught myself that walking is important, so I am spending energy on it without further questions. That is, I do not have to push myself to walk or make a conscious will; however, I do have to consciously see things in front of my eyes, even though it may take a comparable amount of energy or of mental energy. This analogy is not quite valid; walking is physical, while looking is mental. However, I hope to learn to see things, hear things, and so on, without such a significant conscious effort.
When years ago I first heard about these ideas of staying present, of not wasting your life reflecting on past joys or sorrows, I couldn't understand it. It then seemed to me that life consisted exactly in joys and sorrows, and that focusing on them was the very manifestation of being alive. However, I am no quite sure any more, whether reflecting on past experiences can be more authentic or can make you feel more alive than new experience. I mean, of course, reflecting with attachment. I also do not want to include situations when you are in too much pain, physically or otherwise, and have no intention of staying present or alive.
Yesterday I went for another walk. I took the subway to Columbus Circle, and even though I had seen it with stereopsis, was impressed by the open space and how subway arrives right in the middle and under the ground level. Just like I previously explained about gravity and the directions "up" and "down", I never really felt that subway was underground, I only understood it. This is, in spite of the fact that St. Petersburg has a very deep subway - I guess, it is difficult to construct tunnels in a swamp.
From Columbus Circle I went towards the Lincoln Center. It is indeed quite impressive, much more than I had thought during the previous visits. It is interesting how the size of the buildings matches with what I know is inside. You can look at it and imagine what the space inside feels like. Previously I did not have such a feeling of space. For example, I remember many years ago there was a discussion of how high was the ceiling in some apartment. I don't remember if it was our apartment or not, and I don't remember the discussion either. What I do remember is how I wondered if the height of the ceiling made any difference, except if you had very tall people coming to visit you.
Then I went to the park. I think that the stereopsis for distant periphery and generally large objects had already been established well enough, so that now those objects started to form surfaces and configurations. I was no longer just seeing in 3d that one object was on top of another, or that there was space under a bridge, or that a streetlamp was hanging above the road, but this information was sometimes coming together to create an awareness of a more complex landscape, with a deeper understanding of the spatial relationships between the parts involved. It could be comparing to studying any discipline, to any learning: at first you see isolated relationships, then those come more and more together to form a big picture. Here "big picture" is not just peripheral vision.
I cannot quite explain the feeling. Imagine that you are visiting a foreign country, but you do not know the language. You see a sign over a door, but you do not know what it means. However, if you know that this sign means "coffee", then seeing this sign can and often bring to your mind whatever it is that you associate with coffee - taste, smell, childhood memories. Even if you do not start thinking specifically about coffee with your conscious mind, there can still be an awareness that tells you: you remember the smell and the taste of coffee, even though you are not actively recalling this smell and this taste at the moment.
I think that with vision we see different parts of land filled with different objects, such as a park filled with trees, or a city filled with buildings, and we sense, we extrapolate that the space around those trees or buildings carries some of the same properties. Then when we physically are in this space between the trees or between the buildings, we feel that we come in touch with something. So this is why being in a room can feel very different from being in the forest, which can feel very different from being in a cathedral, which can feel very different from being in a parking lot. I had never really felt this difference as acutely as during the last few weeks. I had probably started to get this feeling of space a few days before my vision transformed.
Even though everything is now so interesting, I still have to make an effort to take it in. I still have to make an effort to look around, to see what's in front of my eyes, just as I have to make an effort to walk, because, technically speaking, walking requires some amount of effort. Fortunately, I have taught myself that walking is important, so I am spending energy on it without further questions. That is, I do not have to push myself to walk or make a conscious will; however, I do have to consciously see things in front of my eyes, even though it may take a comparable amount of energy or of mental energy. This analogy is not quite valid; walking is physical, while looking is mental. However, I hope to learn to see things, hear things, and so on, without such a significant conscious effort.
When years ago I first heard about these ideas of staying present, of not wasting your life reflecting on past joys or sorrows, I couldn't understand it. It then seemed to me that life consisted exactly in joys and sorrows, and that focusing on them was the very manifestation of being alive. However, I am no quite sure any more, whether reflecting on past experiences can be more authentic or can make you feel more alive than new experience. I mean, of course, reflecting with attachment. I also do not want to include situations when you are in too much pain, physically or otherwise, and have no intention of staying present or alive.
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