Seeing with the heart, not with the eyes

Preston steps into the black harness. A member of staff walks over and clips a long, firm, blue rope to the harness. A massive grey wall stares back at him. He moves in closer.

Preston is about to make the climb.

Burt

Preston unzips the door of a cage in his room and a big black fluff ball by the name of Burton comes barreling out. Preston wraps a medal harness around Burt’s shiny, black fur. He assumes his position. This is Burt’s que. He knows he’s on the job now. He props up and prepares to obey his master’s commands. Preston throws his tan satchel over his shoulder and grabs the medal harness. “Let’s go Burt!'“ He shouts in a cheerful tone.

The two flow at a pace just under a jog. Preston in a firm, upright position moving his feet in a rapid motion and Burt just ahead, his four feet pitter pattering along the sidewalk at lightning speed, fully attentive to his surroundings. Both work together as a team as they zoom past slow walkers.

Burt has been trained to be sure Preston goes untouched. He gracefully dodges each obstacle in a dance. They move with intent, each step focused and precise. They’re on a mission—a mission to get Preston to his destination quickly and safely.

That destination happens to be campus. Preston, 22, is a graduate student at Ball State University. He is majoring in immerging media design and development, and for his undergraduate studies, he majored in public communications and creative writing.

Burt and Preston share a unique trait in common: they each have jet-black hair. Preston wears a short cut. He grows a thick black mustache. Retro orange shades cover his eyes. Preston emits a West Coast aura. This comes as no surprise, as his routes are in San Francisco, California. Preston was born and raised in San Francisco until he was eight years old. He then moved to Chicago with his family, where he would finish up high school.

Burt and Preston approach the corner of the sidewalk. Burt stops. They wait patiently at the scramble light as cars buzz by. When it’s their turn to walk, Preston first listens for the sound of any possible cars around him. Although Burt is trained to stop Preston if a car is about to hit him, he is not trained to know when to go. Preston must rely on his own senses for that.

He must depend on sound.

Born With it

Cone-rod dystrophy. This is the condition Preston was born with. According to the U.S. National Library of Medicine (NIH), cone-rod dystrophy is a disorder that affects the retina, which is the layer of light-sensitive tissue at the back of the eye. In people with cone-rod dystrophy, vision loss occurs as the light-sensing cells of the retina gradually deteriorate. They eventually go blind.

A common misconception is that blind people live in complete darkness. According to the American Foundation for the blind (AFB), most people who are blind have some light perception. For blind BBC journalist Damon Rose, the world has not turned black.

“All metaphors, similes, analogies, and literary flourishes about blindness and darkness should henceforth cease to be used because I'm saying it's far from dark,” Rose said, “It is, in fact, quite the opposite.”

According to Rose, bright, colorful, light flashes through his view every day. “The rest of my field of vision is taken up by squashed geometric shapes, squiggles and clouds I couldn't hope to describe—and not before they all change again anyway,” said Rose in a 2012 BBC blog.

“Give it an hour, and it'll all be different.”

Preston can see contrasts of color. He can tell when he is outside because of the brightness of the sun. Preston’s quality of vision has stayed consistent since he can remember. Although his sight is not operational because everything is so blurry, it can at times help with context.

For example, if Preston is sitting at a table outside with an umbrella over it, he can see a contrast in color from the sky to the umbrella. He can see that there is something over him.

Cross-Modal Neuroplasticity

Preston holds his iPhone tightly by his ear. He wears denim overalls, a light brown T-shirt with abstract black lines running across the fabric and clean, blue Chuck Taylors. He listens in as an exceptionally faint voice pours out. The voice moves at such a rapid pace, it sounds as if it is speaking its own language. But Preston understands. Raised to his ear, he brushes his finger along the smooth, black surface, sifting through emails.

According to the Iowa Department for the Blind, people who are blind or visually impaired are not gifted with a sharper sense of touch, hearing, taste, or smell. But some researchers would beg to differ.

According to Scientific American, a significant amount of evidence reveals that when the brain is deprived of one sensory modality, it is capable of reconstructing itself to support other senses. German researchers studied blind people’s brain functions to see how the brain rewires itself. The study discovered that blind people can understand speech even if it is sped up beyond the maximum rate that sighted people can comprehend. Ten syllables per second is the average limit of comprehension for people with vision. Blind people can comprehend speech sped up to 25 syllables per second.

Brain scans revealed the part of the cerebral cortex that normally responds to vision had responded to speech with blind people. An unsighted individual’s brain begins to rewire itself to connect auditory regions of the brain to the visual cortex. This, according to the researchers illustrates cross-modal neuroplasticity. Neuroplasticity is the capacity of the nervous system to develop new neural connections.

According to a September 2012 article by Scientific American, the brain adapts to the loss of one sense by giving itself a “makeover”. If one sense is lost, the areas of the brain typically devoted to handling that sensory information get rewired and begin to process other senses.

A large chunk of the research on cross-modal neuroplasticity has narrowed in on blind individuals who usually have enhanced auditory abilities. Brain imaging studies reveal that the visual cortex in a blind individual is utilized by other senses, such as hearing or touch, and aids in language processing.

Since Preston’s enhanced hearing capabilities could also explain his deep love for music.

The Sound of Music

Preston’s hands glide along the surface of his tan satchel as he feels for the leather buckle; each movement precise and intentional. His fingers slide upon the marked indentation. He lifts the buckle and places the books inside.

Burt lies under the desk. He rests as his owner gracefully moves along, conjuring up his things. Preston abruptly decides to have Burt perform a trick. Since Burt is only two years old and Preston has only had him for two months, he is still in the process of training him. Preston stands up and raises his hand slowly. “Stay Burt,” he says sternly.

Burt’s eyes stay glued to his master as he zeros in on each slight movement. “Bye Burt,” says Preston as he walks toward the door. Burt’s eyes shine with anticipation and excitement; but he stays still, focusing intently on each gesture his owner makes.

Preston find interest in the submission dogs have toward humans. “I am just so fascinated by how they think and what motivates them.”

After a few long seconds, Preston bends down and opens his arms wide. “Come here Burt!” Burt’s comes flying toward Preston full speed ahead like a released slingshot. The two unite in an explosion of love and tail wags. “Good boy! Good boy!” says Preston.

Preston grabs ahold of the tan, leather handle connected to Bert and they begin their walk to the student center. He wears a grey sweater, grey jeans, and a black and white checkered scarf. His jet-black hair gleams in the light. He leaves the adaptive technology room for the day and will not return until next week.

Campus is a ghost land. Everyone had excitedly left for their spring break endeavors. But Preston likes it when it isn’t busy because it makes it easier for him and Burt to get around.

Preston’s first spring break extravaganza: Village Green Records. He planned to finally get his hands on the record he’d been diligently waiting for. He first drops off Burt at his apartment across from VGR as he prefers not to bring him along on the VGR adventures because of a cat that resides in the store. Preston walks up the steps to the apartment. “It’s a nice location, but the downside is we get a free concert every night from Be Here Now.”

He gets to his floor and his neighbor Theron is standing outside on the balcony. “Hey Preston!” Theron says. “Hey Theron.” A noticeable amount of tolerance rang in Preston’s voice. He did not seem to be fond of Theron, but he certainly would not have been rude.

Preston drops off Bert and heads for VGR with his metal cane. He takes his usual longer, safer route along the sidewalk. He approaches VGR and walks up the worn down multi-colored wooden boards to the entrance of the store. His hand slides along to find the door handle. He pulls it open and walks in. “Hey Travis!” says Preston. “Hey Preston!”

I believe you have something for me?” says Preston. Their effortless conversation made it clear Preston had visited many times before.

Every crevice of the tightly compacted store was packed with records. Not one bit of the space went unused. Travis goes to the corner of the shop and starts sifting through miscellaneous items. In the midst of the madness, he pulls out a bright blue record album with multiple golden faces shining on the cover. In bold white print at the top read the word, “Alvvays,” the name of one of Preston’s favorite bands.

Travis also handed over a white Alvvays shirt. He laid out the design to Preston in meticulous detail. The shirt looked much like a rendition of the album cover. Golden faces shined in the center of the shirt with the name “Alvvays” in white bold print at the top.

Music has had a front row seat in Preston’s life, serving as an outlet for his boundless creativity. “When I listen to music just for fun, I allow the music to soak over me. I usually listen on over-the-ear headphones. I listen to the chords and lyrics and try to picture and create a story off of the lyrics, melodies, and instrumentals. In many cases, I just picture things.” Preston paints a picture in his mind when listening to music. He oftentimes imagines a unique, vivid scenario from the music.

For instance, “12:51” by The Strokes: “I picture a twenty-something urbanite talking to a close friend debating on whether to go out that night. As the song progresses I picture him (usually with long hair wearing a denim shirt or flannel with oversized jeans) strolling in to a small convenience store and purchasing a pack of Anchor Steam or Becks, or I guess Yengling since it’s on the east coast. Then, he leaves, and walks a few blocks through the upper-east side of Manhattan to his friend’s apartment. There, they split the six pack, hang out on the porch, gossip, smoke up on the porch and generally chill out. The experience I imagine is a further bonding of close friends. I feel that the song perfectly captures the essence of what I want to be like post-college: urban, averagely salaried, carefree.”

Music affords Preston the opportunity to relate, remember, forget, and ultimately, get lost.

A Trip to Paris

Imagine not knowing what’s in front of you. Imagine being unable to cross the street just by watching the red blinking sign turn green. Imagine having to rely entirely on sense of smell, textures, and sounds to navigate surroundings. Imagine not being able to see. This is the reality for Preston and for millions of blind people around the world. According to the World Health Organization (WHO), as of 2012, an estimated 39 million people worldwide are blind.

Many sighted individuals wouldn’t even be able to make it out of their own room without the help of their vision. But Preston has been far beyond his room—as far as Paris.

Preston went to Paris nearing the end of summer. August was just around the corner. It took him some time to navigate the area, but after asking lots of questions and exploring, he became familiar with certain parts and created a blueprint in his mind of the region.

The sun didn’t set until well past 10:00 p.m. in Paris. Preston remembers walking out of a restaurant as it was closing at 10:00 p.m. and feeling the contrast in brightness. He could tell it was still light out.

“Philosophically speaking, I felt like the sky was a representation of cultural perspective,” said Preston. “Before going to Paris, I had assumed that many things would be as I thought they would be: the streets would be thin and windy, the people not conducive to speaking English, the food overpriced, and oddly enough, the sky remaining on the same light/dark schedule as at home. But alas, I was wrong on all parts, and the sky was just the cherry on top.”

Goal Ball

So where does this independent, adventurous spirit come from? Well, Preston believes he owes much of it to playing goal ball. During the summer of his high school career, Preston was selected to play on the youth national goal ball team. Goal ball is a team sport designed explicitly for blind athletes, originally pioneered in 1946 by Hanz Lorenzen and Sepp Beindle to help assist the rehabilitation of visually impaired World War II veterans.

Participants compete in teams of three, and try to throw a ball that has bells inside of it into the opponents' goal. Teams alternate throwing or rolling the ball from one end of the playing area to the other, and players remain in the area of their own goal in both defense and attack. Players must use the sound of the bell to judge the position and movement of the ball. Games consist of two 12-minute halves.

Preston says being apart of the youth national goal ball team was one of the most pivotal moments in his life. This is where he discovered his ability to explore the world on his own. This revelation changed Preston’s life forever.

“The fact that I was able to travel the country alone gave me so much more independence.”

But when Preston isn’t busy exploring the world, he likes to spend time hanging out with friends, and also— hosting parties.

Preston’s Party

It’s Friday night. The Village streets are flooded with drunken college students making a dedicated attempt to forget about the mound of homework they must complete just as finals week approaches.

Preston lives in the University Village Apartments, just next to Jimmy Johns—otherwise known as the haven for all people leaving Brothers at 3 a.m. with nothing but a stomach full of booze.

Someone sloppily stumbles out of Preston’s apartment. The sound of indie music bursts out from the door into the crisp air of the night. Inside, Preston was nowhere to be found. He was busy making out with a girl by the steps downstairs.

Preston’s apartment was packed tight with around 25 people. A cluster of voices engaging in conversation combusted into one loud, incomprehensible buzz—the voice of the intoxicated. A bowl of orange punch filled with alcohol sat on the counter. Surrounding the table was a tall young man with a beard getting his hair braided. Another was a girl with black cat ears smiling and talking to friends.

A Stranger Things and Hail to The Thief poster covered the wall. Just right of the television rested Ryan’s rabbit, Sufie, named after indie artist Sufjan Stevens. A black spiral staircase with bright orange lights tangled around its rail was packed tight with people. Sparkly pink lights wrapped around a dresser, flickering faintly.

A while later, Preston, wearing a bright, tropical shirt, stumbles into the apartment, medal cane in one hand, red solo cup in the other. The blonde-haired girl follows behind. The spiral staircase was now empty. They each walk up the steps. The girl, Natalia, walks back down after dropping Preston off at the bathroom.

Preston comes stomping clumsily down the steps. He makes it to the bottom, lifts his cane and yells “Ayyyyyye!” loud enough to draw the attention of the crowd. Everyone in the room turns toward Preston and responds with a harmonious, “Ayyyyyye!” Preston walks to the center of the living room and shakes his hips, grooving to the beat.

Natalia, Preston’s girl for the night, sits on the couch and holds a maroon music box close to her ears. It matches the color of her bold, radiant pants. She too was grooving to her own music. She is fond of the way Preston carries himself. “He doesn’t care what people think.”

Preston comes to sit next to Natalia on the couch after mingling with the others, just as a seasoned host would do. The lights abruptly flickered off. Someone in the crowd responds, “Oh no! The lights went out!”

“That ain’t good! We’re all blind now!” says Preston.

Neither a blessing nor a curse

Preston walks on the red brick sidewalk on campus. He bolts past other students in his path. A deep, genuine smile is tattooed on his face. Once in a blue moon can one find Preston in a bad mood. So where does he get this rare, refreshingly positive attitude?

“My dad always had a sunny demeanor,” says Preston. “I think it’s rubbed off.”

Preston doesn’t perceive his blindness as a blessing or a curse: “In either case, if I thought my blindness was a blessing or a curse, I would be undermining an important aspect of myself: Curse: I would be totally neglecting the special opportunities afforded to me because of my blindness. Blessing: I would be totally forgetting about the possible benefits that I’d experience if I were sighted (being able to “browse” at the store) I wish I could browse. I hate going to the store with a plan, but it’s kind of awkward to ask someone to help you look for stuff if you have no idea. Also, being able to truly appreciate art,” says Preston.

“My blindness is just something that I was born with and something I need to account for,” says Preston.

Looking Forward

The future looks bright for Preston Radtke. He hopes to see himself working in a large city, either in the US or in a different country. He wishes to be successful and in a good financial position, but not so much so that he loses touch with what really matters in life.

“Being rich isn’t important to me, feeling like I have a purpose and a group is more important.”

Preston sees his post-college lifestyle in an urban setting, averagely salaried, and carefree, as he always has been. He has wishes to work for either digital or literary publishing. He also hopes to write music reviews for a living.

“I want to be remembered as someone who tried almost everything, resulting in a wide range of knowledge and relationships.”

This explains why Preston is so involved and open-minded. “I have this sort of saying, that I usually tell my friends kind of tongue-in-cheek whenever they’re about to go do something for the first time or do something that they don’t want to do: ‘Remember, don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do twice.’”

The Climb

Preston extends his arm and glides his left hand along the surface until it meets a blue nob. He locks it into position. He then moves his right hand along until he comes across a red nob. He firmly grasps it. He then lifts his right leg and moves it around to find a green step. He locks it in place, ready to make his first move.

He extends his left leg and meets another step, as he uses the strength of his body and the help of the hard surface on his foot to push upward and make the climb. Preston and the massive wall meet. The staff member holds the rope and watches with a keen eye as Preston flows with determination and intent. With careful, tedious movements, he makes his way to the very top.

The unstoppable Preston Radtke defeats the great wall.

Preston is fearless. He is fearless in a way that inspires. He cannot see what is in front of him, yet he passionately leaps for it, full-throttle and takes command. He refuses to let any obstacle get in the way of his dreams.

But he is not alone on this journey. He has stability. He has the harness and strength of his family and friends as strong and thick as a rope, keeping him from falling as he climbs his way to the top.