photo John McColgan, author of the recently published "Where ever The Truth Might Lie," will hold a book signing Sunday, Feb. 19, from 1 to 4 p.m. at Arrowhead Chocolate shop in Joseph.

Where do ideas come from? The one that prompted this column sprang partly from a letter-to-the-editor, and partly from Ash Wednesday.

For Catholics and some other denominations, Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent, an annual 40-day period of spiritual preparation prior to Easter. In addition to having our foreheads marked with ashes, we Catholics are expected to eat lighter-than-normal meals on Ash Wednesday, and to abstain from snacking or eating meat.

So on Ash Wednesday, I was reflecting on the notion of self-denial while I was taking my morning shower. As I washed my hair, I noticed how the simple act of closing my eyes simulated, at least temporarily, the experience of blindness. That thought prompted a recollection of a recent letter-to-the-editor which thoughtfully encouraged people to state their names when encountering a blind person so that a person without sight would more easily recognize the speaker. Reading that letter gave me a new, partial insight into blindness, and recalling that insight appreciatively on Ash Wednesday morning, with eyes closed and shampoo being rinsed, I decided to initiate a modest experiment.

Maybe it would be interesting, I thought, to spend just a short period doing normal activities without the benefit of sight. So with my eyes still closed, I finished my shower. I shut off the water, drew back the shower curtain, and carefully located the towel rack to provide some reassurance as I stepped out of the tub. I dried off and then found my slippers with my feet, by trial and error. Gathering my bathrobe and pajamas, locating the switches for the wall heater and ceiling fan, and even exiting the bathroom all became modest achievements.

Dressing would have been more challenging had I not already laid my clothes on the bed prior to my shower. Even so, I smiled as I realized that I had to find the tag in order to be sure whether my T-shirt would be frontwards or backwards. Underwear, buttoned shirt, and pants were easier to figure out. I considered how much better organized a blind person would have to be than I typically am, and then after I spent time gliding my hands across the bedspread in search of my glasses, a slight pressure on the bridge of my nose clued me in to the fact that I had already unconsciously and mysteriously slipped them on.

I returned to the bathroom and discovered that retrieving a Q-tip from a small-nosed bottle was surprisingly challenging without sight. I found my hairbrush and used my fingers as a guide to determine where my hair was normally parted.

Going downstairs was not especially difficult, since the newel posts on our railing at each corner made changes in elevation obvious and safe to negotiate. Once at ground floor level, I proceeded down the hall to let our dog out of the basement. I could tell by the sound of his tags that Emmett was walking only slightly faster than I was as I made my way cautiously past the chairs and table in our dining room.

Once inside our home office, I shuffled over to the computer desk, where a brief tactile search revealed that my eyeglass case was, as usual, right where I had left it. I then proceeded to the kitchen, where I found a glass on the counter, and then I slid my hand cautiously along the counter edge until I reached the sink. I found the cold water handle, filled my glass, then walked back to our office, where I took a seat in my familiar armchair. After having a sip of water, I placed my glass carefully on the end table beside my chair. Then for the first time in about fifteen minutes, I opened my eyes.

My small experiment on Ash Wednesday was enlightening and even mildly entertaining. I now have a slightly better appreciation of the challenges that blind people must overcome, and perhaps a little more gratitude for the blessings that I typically take for granted. I learned that some tasks were easier than I had expected, while others were more challenging. And while I recognize that spending a few minutes with eyes closed is a tiny sample of what blindness really entails, still this is an experience that I would recommend that other people try, for whatever personal, spiritual benefit you might be able to glean from it.

John McColgan writes from his home in Joseph.