Nightwalking: exploring the dark with peripheral vision - includes tips on nightwalking

Whole Earth Review, Fall, 1991 by Nelson Zink, Stephen Parks

For our purposes, we began to think of the retina as divided into two areas: the fovea and macula, both with high concentrations of cones, and the periphery, where rods predominate - in short, cone and rod vision, responsible respectively for focused and peripheral vision. A quick way of understanding the extent of these two regions of sight is to extend your fists directly in front, side by side. Your fists cover the approximate area normally seen by cones; the rest of your visual field is largely rod mediated. Thus it's apparent that only a small percentage of our total visual field is clearly focused. Attending only to this region results in what is commonly called tunnel vision - figuratively and literally, as we've come to believe.

It became evident to us that many of the special perceptions we sought came from the ability to observe the world and ourselves from a "different point of view," in a broader, unfettered context. In time the obvious struck us, that the experience of insight, rapid learning, invention, creativity, intuition, and perhaps even personal change have a direct connection with secand sight, a sight dependent almost completely on the brain's capacity for processing peripheral vision,

We decided to try to develop a technique which would effectively stimulate this special way of seeing. After some trial and error we originated an exercise and designed a simple piece of equipment which seemed to enhance our access to secand sight. On the bill of a baseball cap we mounted a metal rod welded to a binder clip, extending about a foot in front of our eyes. On the tip of each rod we glued a small bead of plastic resin about the size of a baby green pea. This created a fixed point on which to focus. We reasoned that with our focused vision on the bead, any physical activity would necessitate the use of peripheral vision. We chose hiking.

We drove out into the countryside near our homes in northern New Mexico, found a place where we wouldn't be interrupted, donned our caps and set out. In the beginning, disoriented and functionally blind, we made our way cautiously along an old jeep trail. Soon we noticed that our feet seemed to know what to do. We stepped over and around obstacles on the ground without consciously being able to see them. It became apparent that our non-conscious minds could see the ground directly in front of us perfectly well.

Within an hour our field of vision began to clear, and we both became engrossed with the phenomenon of seeing double. Walking behind, one could watch two identical people moving up ahead, walking side by side, each making identical movements. A sort of Zen paradox arose as to which was the real one. We later understood that the solution to this and other reality" paradoxes was an important part of learning to use and trust secand sight.

As we walked we began to notice that other senses such as hearing, balance and touch naturally expanded and became more acute, as if we'd gradually become conscious of the peripheral regions of these senses too. Concurrently, the perception of " weight " shifted lower in our bodies, to the hips and on down to our feet.