Story time! I don’t have a mind’s eye. In fact, I think the notion of anyone having a mind’s eye is bizarre! I thought it was normal - until I realised it’s not. Not really. It’s kind of funny, then, that the only trophy I’ve ever been awarded was one for a piece of descriptive writing with no physical stimulus.
It’s not that I don’t have an imagination - I do - but the scenes unfolding in my head are behind a closed curtain, and I am the wrong side of it. There’s a bundle of energy in the back of my mind I can feel as pictures paint themselves... suggestions of movement in dynamic scenes, perhaps. Or maybe it’s the frustration that I. Can’t. See. Anything!
I sometimes wish someone would lift the veil; that they would let me imagine those sandy beaches everyone is supposed to envisage - let me find my “happy place”, which will forevermore be a black and lonely void.
But most of the time, I am glad I am blind to the canvas up there. It has made me sensitive to the nuances of language and I am always looking to appreciate every detail I lay my eyes on. Even if my mental arithmetic is shocking and I can’t describe my mother’s face, it’s part of me. And every time I place my eyes on someone, I get to appreciate anew all the things that make them beautiful.
If I want to remember something and be able to look back, I just have to take lots of pictures :)