Unceasing Echoes

People always go on about the importance of body language over what is heard in communication. “you know, the 7% rule proved that it’s mainly body language, what you say doesn’t matter” isn’t an unusual thing to hear in lay conversations.   Albert Mehrabian published his book ‘Silent Messages’ in 1971 where he described what has become known as ‘the 7% rule’. This was his finding that the actual words spoken only account for 7% of the ‘credibility of communication’, and that 55% of the weight of credibility is given to a speaker’s body language and the further 38% to the tone and music of their voice.   This limited research attracted strong criticism and challenge and is now thought to be nonsense. Indeed,  Mehrabian  himself has published on its inadequacy. However, google searches still show that the original publication with the attractive nomenclature of the ‘7% rule’  gaine...

Well, now having published my 63rd post (to be precise) to this blog last night, I thought I’d take a moment to look back at what it’s about and what I’m doing in writing it. I thought this would be helpful for newcomers to it, to me too and might be interesting to those of you who have been following it for a while.   I’m certainly enjoying writing, and giving myself an outlet to describe, moan, cathart, expose and  play with stories… Mainly though, it provides me with the fantastic opportunity to describe and make sense of my experiences as a blind person and to try to find some meaning, some understanding of the motivations that might have influenced them.   I’ve been very moved that people are reading it and that some of you have been following it from the start, others dipping in and out or coming upon it for the first time and following it. I love the fact that some of the stories have been brought to life by readers’ own in...

Following my earlier post, I realised that I hadn’t fully made my point and wanted to finish it.   Sight, with its ability to see faces, might provide ways in to a more connected experience of neighbourhood and community than blindness.  As people walk about the streets, nodding or smiling in acknowledgement of each other as they pass.  Without being able to see people’s faces, to see them making such non-verbal acknowledgement of my existence, I find walking around the streets of my neighbourhood an isolating  experience, passing countless people  in complete silence and at most moving out of each other’s way (other than those who know me). This is far more so for me in the city where there are people who won’t speak to each other, than in the countryside where I might encounter nobody.   I noticed people actually speaking to each other on the streets during lockdown – just saying ‘HI/Alright’ and hoped that the pr...

I live in a neighbourhood that prides itself for  being sociable and inclusive. Despite this, my experience is that most of us go about our business without greeting each other when passing on the streets. I don’t know this to be wholly true of course as it may be that sighted people will typically acknowledge each other with a nod or smile, but the only way that I can do it is through spoken greetings.   Perhaps because I feel less self-conscious about speaking to strangers in the mornings when there are fewer people about, or because there’s something particular about the start of the day that connects with my desire for expansiveness, I tend to use morning walks for saying good morning when I come upon another pedestrian. I’ve sometimes tried it later in the day, (not saying ‘good morning’) but it never feels as easy. I am clear not to break my step or suggest that I want any prolonged contact, It is merely a fleeting acknowledgement that we ar...

Out on my walk this morning around my local cemetery, a jogger was coming towards me, I moved right to give way for them, so did they, we then both moved left, doing that dance that goes on between people inadvertently stepping in the same direction trying to move out of each other’s ways.   They then started doing this thing right in front of me with arms and legs wide apart jumping from one side to the other. I couldn’t see their facial expression which could have been a smile to acknowledge amusement at what we’d just done, or it could have been a pissed off ‘what the fuck!’. I really have no idea.   I said “I can’t see” in an attempt to stop them doing it and in explanation. They didn’t answer but jogged past me.   I know that I came away from a lovely walk before starting work feeling uncomfortable and upset by what might well have been a simple acknowledgement.    

I love technology and am still shocked at how my informational life changed through getting an iPhone nearly seven years ago now (well, once I’d learned how to use it). However there are countless things that irritate me so much that I’m going to list them: ·        IOS 14 (Apple’s latest iPhone software) has launched a lot of improvements (including to accessibility). However it has launched lots of things that have got in the way of screen reader accessibility, slowed it down and reduced access as a result. This is incredibly frustrating as merely downloading the new operating system version onto my phone has put more obstacles in the way of the things that I’ve taken for granted. ·        At work, I am on video calls continually throughout the day. New updates to video conferencing software (MS Teams in particular) have increased the number of buttons on the screen (rather than having th...

A few weeks ago, I wrote some of my thoughts about eye contact, what it means and the impact on blind people of not being able to do it.  I’ve since posted once or twice highlighting some of the negative attitudes and judgements that are levelled at people who can’t or don’t use it. Here, I wanted to describe a particular set of behaviours and barriers that I often encounter as a result of not seeing enough to be able to make eye contact or clearly direct my gaze.   I realise that the directing of vision (looking in someone’s direction) may be technically different from making eye contact with them, however, not having the experience of doing either, and often experiencing the consequences of it, I’m not sure that it matters too much for my purposes here.   In a closely clustered group of people standing, or sitting  around a table, or with a large group sitting around a table perhaps at a meal or meeting, sighted people rely on their ab...