Is now the best time to close our eyes? I can make a strong case for: Absolutely Not. Now more than ever, we the people have to keep our eyes open and our wits about us.
However …
I think I can convince you that right now you need some shut-eye. If only for just a moment or two. Because when there is, blessedly, nothing else to see, we can see our own light, color and movement.
The word was coined by a French surgeon, Jean Baptiste Henri Savigny. I hadn’t heard of him either. But, in 1816, he was a ship’s surgeon aboard the French frigate Méduse when it ran aground. You know that famous painting by Théodore Géricault? Raft of the Medusa? Savigny was one of the guys on that raft, one of the surviving guys. And yeah, to answer your question: it was crazy. They ate the dead.
(((shudder)))
Okay, I realize I’m not selling phosphenes by talking about shipwreck, cannibalism and art history, so please let me return to the present tense.
Hard reset. Phosphenes are cool!
At first glance, the noise I see between my eyes and their lids is not worth examining. But that is often how I start things, by looking closely at some small, possibly boring, possibly heroic corner of the world. So I take another look, a long look. What I see is incredible. I have to dip into my thesaurus today because phosphenes are really, really, really … very … uh, strange.
I close my eyes and see on the left and right two foggy discs of glowing color that diminish immediately in hues of red, violet and indigo. In their wake, a field of anxious flickering motes of rose-grey light expands and contracts, approaching a point somewhere in the center of my vision. Everything changes again as I rub my weary eyes with my knuckles, and again as I raise my eyebrows high, all the while keeping those lids closed.
Then I see light bursts, luminous pulses, loops and dissolutions. Rings of black and white wash over me. Color and darkness, geometry and biology cross my sight in rolling tides. Strangely, amid all this, there is a single tiny white spark that seems to flash every few seconds over to my left, and below me. Well, it feels like it is below me. There is dizziness here, wherever here is. Chasing phosphenes like this is always weird. But, I open my eyes and just like that, the world returns.
When our lives put so much pressure and uncertainty in front of our eyes every day, we can shut off for a few tics and puzzle over these drifting silhouettes and pale elusive phantoms. And we can hang out there as long or as little as we want. But before you open your eyes and come back to the struggle of 2020, you must recognize this one vital truth, and it’s what make phosphenes so cool: The wondrous light that you are seeing, all that mysterious and lively light, is your own.
– Micah Clarke
Micah Clarke is a father of two, a husband of one, a son of two, and a brother of one. He draws a lot, paints very little, and writes children’s books. Is a book a book if no one has ever published it? If not, he’s still a draftsman and a very little painter. He likes his eggs over easy, with grits and crispy bacon. And he wants you to know that he’s grateful to you for taking time to read his posts.