One of my first tastes of en-light-en-ment:

I was 9, riding my bicycle to the Weberstown Mall in Stockton in search of minor adventures. I noticed my tire was slightly flat, so I stopped at a gas station to inflate it. I attached the nozzle, and depressed the trigger. Suddenly, there was a loud blast, my ears were ringing, and I was blind.

Totally, completely, blind.

I remember the first few instants of shock, and now can sense how the pure mind of not-knowing lurked there, in the pitch blackness, like a strange creature I’d carried but could not recognize. For a few instants, thought was obliterated. I was… -=seeing=- without thought.

Then I began to wonder: what had happened? Was I alive? Was I bleeding? How would I find someone to tell my condition to? How would I get home? How would I -=explain=-?

And then, with a blink, my sight returned completely.

And, seeing, I became blind in the other way. The way I would long remain blind. The blindness of explanation, expectation, models, and imagery.

The blindness of reception which has largely been my lot since then.