I’m taking off my glasses.

I’ve worn glasses or contacts for myopia (near-sightedness) through all my waking hours since I was about 10 years old. Throughout that time, my vision has gradually, every year or six months, grown worse and worse, and I’ve upgraded my prescription progressively to the -7.5 that I wear now. That number means, roughly, that I have 20/700 vision, or that a clear-sighted person can see from 700 feet what I see at 20 feet. When I look at an eye test chart from 12 feet, I can’t even tell there is print on the page.

Faced with the fact that my current pair of disposable contacts are nearly ready to throw out (they lose their ability to breathe and become quite uncomfortable to wear), and the knowledge that my sight continues to worsen year after year, I’ve been feeling a little despondent. I’m bound to keep throwing more and more money at “correcting” my sight while my natural sight fails!

On Monday, though, I read The Organic Sister’s post on stars and sight, where she mentions her own choice to go without her glasses. Then, yesterday, I did some reading online (Google “natural vision improvement”, and you get tons of information), and was intrigued by the idea that maybe there was something I could do about my sight. I visited the library and snapped up the only book on the shelf that dealt with improving sight: Marilyn Roy’s Eyerobics. Then I came home, took off my glasses, and read the whole thing.

Here’s a quick rundown:

Our eyes are incredibly adaptive. When we do lots of close work, their muscles, and even the shape of the eyeball, change to accommodate. The same for far-away looking. We create an imbalance, essentially, in our own sight muscles. The muscles grow weak. The point of focus leaves the retina and, in the case of myopia, moves forward. The eyeball lengthens.

Then we put lenses in front of the eye, to “correct” the vision. As Roy says, “Eyeglasses do not actually correct the images that your eyes see, they create distortions in proportion.” That misplaced focal point does not move back to its correct location; instead we’re only fooling our eyes into thinking it has. What that means is that every time I wear my glasses to do close work, I’m telling my eyes to move the focal point further away from the retina, thus making my sight worse!

Anyway, this was all an incredible encouragement to me that there is, in fact, something I can do to improve my sight. The first, and simplest, thing I’m doing is taking off my glasses for close work. More than that, I’m taking off my glasses for everything by the most necessary activities (cooking, using the computer, and when I really, really need clear distance vision). I started last night, and continued this practice all day today. I’m already noticing lots of changes.

I sat outside yesterday and saw the clouds with my naked eyes for the first time in 15 years. It felt like magic. It felt like seeing the clouds for the first time. No, I can’t see all the clouds’ details, but I know they’re there. And they’re becoming a beautiful tool for my eyes while they change. I lay back and look at them, tracing their shape with my eyes, trying to bring them more and more into focus. I hold my hand before my eyes and notice the fingerprints, and think of that detail, and remind my eyes to look for it in clouds. Oh, I’m quickly seeing clouds become holy to me!

I sat in the park today, 30 feet from the path, and saw what might have been my first naked-eye smile in as long. From that distance, I can begin to tell gender, but I can’t see facial features. I think what I actually saw was the change in light on the man’s face. But I knew it was a smile. My first naked eye smile. My eyes filled with tears at the joy of it!

Going from constant glasses or contacts to very little of them in two days is a little like going from life as a couch potato to running up Grouse Mountain (a quick 1000 meter elevation change) in a day. My eyes just don’t have the muscles developed, and I can feel their weakness. I’m starting to get a little tummy-sick with the adjustment. But that tenderness itself is driving me onward, because, just like the sore muscles after climbing the mountain, I know my body is healing itself, my muscles are developing.

I’m becoming obsessed with measurements, with noticing what I can and can’t do. Like the fact that I see colors so much better naked-eyed, and that in daylight, my sight is vastly improved. I can read a book about 12 inches from my face. I can tell a knit or purl stitch in socks at 7 inches. I can tell gender at 20 to 30 feet, and recognize a face at about 15 feet. I’m so excited to watch these numbers change.

I feel my body working. I trust in its ability to change. Just as the glasses altered my eyes in this way, taking them off can change them for the better. This is a good, good body, and these are good, good eyes.

Good eyes. Good eyes. It’s my new mantra. Tonight I’m going to make an eye-test chart to put on the wall, a chart whose letters read “GOOD EYES” instead of random letters. Good eyes.