Today is always a joyous day for me.  I never really thought about the trials and tribulations of February until my last summer living at home as a teen, when a fellow life guard counseled me to beware of “The February Blues” when I went away to college. I fought the blues valiantly my first year of college, but alas, they got me in the end.  And so it has been ever since.   I now have “Vitamin D deficit” and “Seasonal Affective Disorder,” to label my malady, but whatever the name, by mid-Feb, my energy wanes and I’m singing the blues.  Last year and again this, I ply myself with vitamin D supplements along with Vitamin D rich foods.  This strategy has helped immensely, but truly, there is nothing like a huge dose of sunlight.

True confessions now...I wrote the last several posts on a sunny island at a latitude of 18 degrees.  So I am not singing the blues!  My wonderful husband,  “recognizing” my winter state, decided to take matters into his hands, and this year has allowed me to cheat winter by a few weeks.  I have been soaking up my maximum dose of Vitamin D every day.  I have also had the wonderful opportunity to jump from the 25 yard X 6 foot chlorinated swimming lane to an ocean filled with amazing creatures.  I have seen turtles, squid, huge parrot fish of many colors,  stingrays, and while I may be mistaking, something very large swam past quite fast, that I believe may have been a sand shark or some equivalent.   I don’t know if I’ve mentioned before, but “my” motor story usually entails swimming, cycling or skiing.  Happily swimming is the focus for the moment. While not a “star,” I am a competent swimmer and take great pleasure in this endeavor. 

Which brings me to the “Motor Story”  lesson of the day: the importance of visual focus and cues as we move.  Generally we take these for granted.  Cues in our environment guide us at an unconscious level, but we do not think about them.  We notice when we are speeding in a car and everything outside is a blur, or as the room dims and we can’t get our bearing and find our way.  And so it was for me the other day.  We had swum out to a lovely cay, the periphery of which houses a panoply of beautiful sealife.  We followed the shallow coral laden route out to the island, since most of the sealife lurks about the cracks and crevices of these regions. After exploring  a while and feeling a chill, we decided to return to shore.  A few days previously, we had taken a route straight to the beach through deeper waters, a swim of approximately 500 yards.  We were treated with a vista of a large sea star field for much of the way back.  Alas,  sea creatures move and they no longer resided in this spot.  There was virtually nothing on the sea floor.  It was crystal blue and empty.  There were no markers to note how fast I swam or the progress I made.  I swam the same stroke I’ve swum since swimming on a varsity college team, and yet I felt like I was flailing in the water.  Periodically I would look up to check my above water bearing, and indeed, I was approaching the moored boats and the shore appeared closer.  But each time I focused on the beautiful nothingness beneath me, I felt as though I was in one of those pools that keep you stroking while you go no where.

We need visual cues and visual awareness to feel connected and organized to our environment and world. Without this reference point, we may feel disoriented, confused or actually anxious.  While I am a fairly confident swimmer, I had a few moments of genuine anxiety as I chop chopped through the surf. 

Which brings me to some of the children I work with and wonder if some of the children teachers review with me might not have similar issues.  I have discussed the rise in referrals I receive related to visual  perception.  I have linked this with the potential decrease in eye to eye contact with grown ups as children develop in this digital world. Another potential fall out, though counter intuitive, is that children may not be developing the proper ability to actually focus on their visual surroundings effectively.  It takes concentrated visual attention and visual memory to cement what visual expectations should  unfold in the surroundings.  This is one of the reasons traveling to new places can be invigorating but also tiring and stressful.  It takes a while for the mind to assimilate all the new stimuli, especially visual.  

When children do not visually focus as they develop, they may have “murky” visual references of their environment, at best.  If this occurs, they may experience anxiety when they are expected to perform a specific motor task.  They lack the visual cues and references to guide them.  Trial and error, avoidance or random responses may result. 

I have focused on the primary components of motor planning over the past several weeks.  You can connect the dots.  Along with good balance,  adequate trunk strength and body awareness, coordinating the two sides of the body AND linking or executing movements simultaneously, the individual has to have a visual image of how to move through space, act upon another object, etc. 

Yes, there are exceptions in visually impaired individuals.  They need to use other sensory cues as substitutes for visual referencing.  These typically related to touch, sound and vibration.  They attest to the amazing flexibility of the neurological system.  At some point in the future, The Motor Story will explore compensating for lost sensations and how individuals overcome or cope with the deficits. 

In the meantime, marvel at the complexity of the human brain, human spirit and the many ways we learn to adapt in the world.  And take heart...the spring equinox is almost upon us!

                                         

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