Blindfolded

Yesterday, our philosophy class took a little field trip from the comfort of our classroom and from what we typically perceive. We were required to put on a blindfold and follow where our partners led us. Once the feeling of being unnerved and wary passed, I was able to experience my surroundings in an entirely new way. Instead of looking at my surroundings only so slightly, I focused intensely on attempting to picture where I was, calling up memories of places from the recesses of my mind. I was acutely aware of the sounds and the feel of my environment. I remember, when my teacher preposterously told us to be led up a steep grass hill, hearing the swishing of grass which entirely dominated my senses; I heard or focused on nothing else.
I have a theory that humans, focusing on one thing, block or dull all their other senses that aren't required for focusing on this one thing. For example, if I were solely focused on reaching my bus on time, I would walk as fast as I could, picking out the fastest route and weaving in and out of people gathering in the halls; however, I would perceive only the route through the people with my sense of sight. I would entirely miss the voices and conversations around me, which although loud and numerous, would blur into a hum of almost silence because I was not concerned with discerning them. I would not think twice about bumping into someone because it is such a ordinary occurrence that it means nothing to me. Ironically, people with sight are often blind to anything else. This is often an occurrence for most people during the course of a day, perhaps a month, and even years. They rarely care to wonder that which is beyond their routine schedule or take a break to think about their surroundings; thus, they are swept up and often cannot recall what they have long ago forgone - an awe with the senses.
Wonder overcame me once I was blindfolded: it allowed me to recognize the silence we give to our hearing, the numb given to our touch, and the limit given to our sight.