More thinking inspired by IMcG.
He says that the right-hemi is involved in depth.
Depth is something of an issue for me. On the negative side, I really only have one working eye - and it is not the eye that is in direct communication with the right-hemisphere. In fact, the whole of my left side is essentially physically inept. I hear less well, can't see much, am very right-handed and right-footed, my left side is smaller. Even the breast. In fact - TMI alert - the left nipple never even bothered to pop out. Physically, my right-hemisphere SUCKS... or rather... doesn't... but anyway.
Anyway, the lack of a second eye impacts my depth perception. Can't catch a ball, reversing a car is challenging, and so on. I did discover a positive twist to this, you may recall, claiming that paintings, which show depth through art, are maybe more effective for me than for the blessed two-eyed humans - and indeed, paintings may well be 'better' than reality as I don't need two-eyes to appreciate how they communicate depth.
But still, the lack of real-world depth, feels like a disadvantage. Indeed, I was inclined to see the whole crapness of my left side as evidence of a rather crap right-hemi.
However, my thinking style is some much more akin to that favoured by the right-hemisphere. Maybe what it can't do 'out there' it is busy compensating for 'in here'.
For me, the world and people and events are rich in immanence.
Today, after the ball in the wood episode - which itself felt 'profound' as I have a new colleague on a World Cup related project who is Brazilian - and the football was commemorating the 2014 World Cup in Brazil - I heard the birds chirruping and I saw a whole flock perching on a leafless tree. As I clocked them, they all took off... it was like the tree was a firework exploding in a negative... It was like magic that I was led to see by music. The sight of it - as though a tree disintegrated upwards without losing mass... as though the birds were blossoms exhaled into the atmosphere... It was a monochrome miracle. And yet so fucking every day. The birds flew. So what? So what?! I stood and gaped at the pointillist air.
And then the sense that there is always a below and a beneath in interactions; always there is so much more than on the surface.
My experience of life and of others is all depth or the search for depth. Where the surface is all, then I am bereft.
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