Aphantasia

The mind and the heart

That day I was doom-scrolling

and a picture stood out to me.

It asked me to close my eyes,

imagine seeing an apple,

and match it with diagrams 1 to 5,

with 1 being picture-realistic

and 5 being pitch-black.

So I closed my eyes and imagined:

I was on a white beach,

the water is blue,

the sun is bright,

and under the palm tree

there is an oak wood table;

and on the table

there is a big red apple.

I wish that’s what I saw.

Instead, I saw nothing -

pitch-black -

so I squeezed my eyes so hard

I finally began seeing white dots,

then I realized I was squeezing my eyes

a little too hard.

So I asked my friends

if they can see the apple,

and I found out they can see the beach,

and the water,

and the sun,

and the palm tree,

and the table.

I grew up understanding

that visualizing is just a mode of thinking,

that seeing is different from believing;

I grew up believing

that imagery is just a figure in speaking;

and now you tell me

that was all just me tweaking?

No wonder visualization meditation

makes me sleepy,

my inner voice always keeps it quiet,

and I totally lack imagination.

In fact, sometimes,

I feel like my mind is blind,

that is to say, I don’t quite remember

what’s behind

and can’t quite find

what’s ahead

so I can’t outline and rewind.

I can’t quite hear the melodies of the past

in my head

and my request to see the undefined

is most definitely declined.

So if my balance to imagine is always insufficient

why does it matter what price I pay?

If the recording of my fondest memories is almost silent

why does it matter what song I play?

And if the tunnel to my brightest future is always pitch-black

why does it matter what road I pave?

Sometimes, I ask myself if God played a game

or made a mistake

to give me eyes to see the present

but blurs my past and blinds me from the future.

But then I remember,

I still see what’s now,

what’s right in front of me

that’s supposed to be;

I still hear what’s around,

what’s a symphony

without the noise bothering me;

I get to forget

about my tidal-patterned self-esteem;

and I shouldn’t be so upset

that I don’t often live in a dream.

You see, the term aphantasia,

it is the inability to form or use mental imagery

but it doesn’t mean my words can’t talk vividly;

it doesn’t mean the apple isn’t in reality,

a dream can only live in fantasy;

it doesn’t mean I can’t believe

unless I see it visually.

In fact, I refuse to believe

that I have insufficient funds in the bank of opportunities

just because I can’t see all the checks;

I refuse to believe

that I have broken records from my album of memories

just because I can’t hear all the chords;

and I refuse to believe

that there is no end to this tunnel on my way to the answer

just because I can’t find all the exits.

Yes, I cannot see when I’m blind,

I cannot hear from my mind,

and when I’m lost

I don’t know which way to find;

but my heart speaks to me -

it tells me which foot to lift

and which corner to turn,

every step of the way.