In which I geek randomly about hands
May. 9th, 2010 03:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
luna_manarI'm being forced to use my mouse at work with my left hand because the bluetooth connectivity is AWFUL if I use my right; it's too far away, and the mouse keeps cutting out on me. Using a mouse left-handed isn't terrible difficult, so rather than move the computer around and trip over a lot of wires, I just switched the mouse buttons and pointer around.
Aside from it being fun to do something new, this is a good thing to do for a number of other reasons: because I'm tasking my left hand with something it isn't used to doing, my brain is having to switch to "learning" mode, in which neurons become more active and I'm more alert in general as a result.
It made me think about how the whole body learns things at the same time. Like, I never use my left hand for the mouse. But somehow, I'm better at just picking it up and using it than I was with my right hand as a child when I first learned to use one. Somehow, my brain has learned how to use both hands to do this same task, even though it has never had to use the left hand for this task before. Without practice, I still know, extrapolating from the muscle memory of my right hand and arm and translating that into mirror-movement in my left hand and arm, how to use a mouse (and not suck at it). I think that's cool.
It also made me think of how the secondary side of the body depends on the primary side. For example: If I draw a question mark with my right hand, and then try to draw a question mark with my left hand, the right-handed symbol looks great, but the left-handed version looks like shit. BUT, if I use two pens and draw the same symbol at the same time, the results are markedly better. The left-handed mark still isn't quite as good, but it's way better than if I had just tried to do it without the sensation of the right-handed movements for real-time reference. It's even better if I make mirror-image drawings with my right and left hand. Really, my hands are like two dancers, one used to leading, and the other used to following. They do great that way. But put the left side on the spot and make it do everything itself, and it struggles. I can consciously notice myself relying on the memory of what it felt like to do things with my right hand, and sometimes I catch myself hitting the wrong nerves and making my hand move in the opposite direction that I meant it to. It's as if my arm sometimes forgets that it's not just mirroring my right hand; it actually has to do things in the reverse way the right hand does, and do it properly on its own. Imagine learning to dance with someone, and then being told that you had to do the same dance, backwards, by yourself without any help. That's what it's like doing most things with your secondary side.
Using a mouse gives you a bit of a break, because you are actually mirroring your primary hand's movements, so the feeling of "doing it backwards" isn't as prevalent. But it's still more difficult, and largely because most computer software has buttons that are arranged specifically to accommodate right-handers. So there's still a bit of a backwards feel, because it's awkward to click the "start" button (although I don't do that much, anyway; ctrl + esc works just fine for me).
So, try it; Draw a question mark with your primary hand. Then draw it with your other hand.
Now, draw two question marks at the same time, one with each hand.
Now, draw a question mark with your primary hand, and at the same time, draw a mirror image of it with your other hand.
See how it gets progressively better (or at least easier and more fluid)? Most people have this "lead-follow" dance between left and right in their brain, and it's very interesting to sit there and test it; even more interesting to try to switch things around a little. One hand learns to simply assist the other, mimic the other, or mirror the other. Putting that hand, that side, in control, feels a lot like having a confuse spell cast on you in an action RPG (all the controls are suddenly backwards).
There are a lot of neat youtube videos of people who paint with both hands. You'll notice that a lot of them paint perfectly symmetrical images, like a face looking you head-on. I wonder what would happen if you asked them to paint one side with one hand, and then the other side with the other hand. Would the results be as good? I doubt it (not to dis them or anything; I certainly can't do that at all!).
One of the things that my piano instructor used to stress to me is how important it was to learn to play melodies with one's left hand; especially when dealing with jazz, the low notes are often required to be as melodious as the high notes, and besides, you look badass if you can do a mean, growling glissando below middle C. The other benefit is that it teaches you ambidexterity even if you don't realize it. Most music assumes that the left hand should be responsible for bass chords, and most instruments are shaped with a primary right hand in mind, as well. Piano is interesting in that it allows for, even requires, true ambidexterity to some degree if you want to be any good at it. Sure, you could pound on some chords while letting your right hand do a little dance and have a song--but trust me, if you learn to be as dexterous with your left-hand playing as your right, the results can be truly beautiful--you get that wonderful effect of sounding like you have a duet, even though you're just one person. There can be two very distinct personalities represented in the song, not just one single idea backed up by chords that match. It's almost like the two sides of your body are having a conversation. And that's very different from one side simply playing a supportive role. Best of all, it feels very different, in your brain. I don't know how to explain that, but it's a very cool thing. I guess it makes you feel smarter.
I find myself doing certain odd tasks with my left hand as the primary, though. Driving, for instance; my left hand is always on the wheel, and is the hand that leads when turning. My right hand simply stabilizes the wheel and fusses with the stereo at stoplights. I sincerely wonder if that's a question of convenience; if my right hand was always busy with the wheel, how would I reach the stereo and A/C in the first place? How would I drink my coffee and talk illegally on my cell phone (I don't actually do that last one)? I do a lot of, um, sanitary tasks with my left hand, as well. I can't easily explain that one, other than I must not like my left side very much.
I like the idea that one half of my body has a totally different (and yet harmonious) personality than the other half. I like the idea that they love each other. I like the idea that we could learn better, think faster, and be more capable physically if we could get our minds out of the one-sided relationship they naturally settle into, if we treat each person as two people (at least), and try to recognize them both as individuals. That's very philosophical of me, maybe uncharacteristically so; but it's a neat idea, and one that I think calls for further experimentation and investigation.
So, ultimately, this is a literature request: Suggestions, anyone?
Aside from it being fun to do something new, this is a good thing to do for a number of other reasons: because I'm tasking my left hand with something it isn't used to doing, my brain is having to switch to "learning" mode, in which neurons become more active and I'm more alert in general as a result.
It made me think about how the whole body learns things at the same time. Like, I never use my left hand for the mouse. But somehow, I'm better at just picking it up and using it than I was with my right hand as a child when I first learned to use one. Somehow, my brain has learned how to use both hands to do this same task, even though it has never had to use the left hand for this task before. Without practice, I still know, extrapolating from the muscle memory of my right hand and arm and translating that into mirror-movement in my left hand and arm, how to use a mouse (and not suck at it). I think that's cool.
It also made me think of how the secondary side of the body depends on the primary side. For example: If I draw a question mark with my right hand, and then try to draw a question mark with my left hand, the right-handed symbol looks great, but the left-handed version looks like shit. BUT, if I use two pens and draw the same symbol at the same time, the results are markedly better. The left-handed mark still isn't quite as good, but it's way better than if I had just tried to do it without the sensation of the right-handed movements for real-time reference. It's even better if I make mirror-image drawings with my right and left hand. Really, my hands are like two dancers, one used to leading, and the other used to following. They do great that way. But put the left side on the spot and make it do everything itself, and it struggles. I can consciously notice myself relying on the memory of what it felt like to do things with my right hand, and sometimes I catch myself hitting the wrong nerves and making my hand move in the opposite direction that I meant it to. It's as if my arm sometimes forgets that it's not just mirroring my right hand; it actually has to do things in the reverse way the right hand does, and do it properly on its own. Imagine learning to dance with someone, and then being told that you had to do the same dance, backwards, by yourself without any help. That's what it's like doing most things with your secondary side.
Using a mouse gives you a bit of a break, because you are actually mirroring your primary hand's movements, so the feeling of "doing it backwards" isn't as prevalent. But it's still more difficult, and largely because most computer software has buttons that are arranged specifically to accommodate right-handers. So there's still a bit of a backwards feel, because it's awkward to click the "start" button (although I don't do that much, anyway; ctrl + esc works just fine for me).
So, try it; Draw a question mark with your primary hand. Then draw it with your other hand.
Now, draw two question marks at the same time, one with each hand.
Now, draw a question mark with your primary hand, and at the same time, draw a mirror image of it with your other hand.
See how it gets progressively better (or at least easier and more fluid)? Most people have this "lead-follow" dance between left and right in their brain, and it's very interesting to sit there and test it; even more interesting to try to switch things around a little. One hand learns to simply assist the other, mimic the other, or mirror the other. Putting that hand, that side, in control, feels a lot like having a confuse spell cast on you in an action RPG (all the controls are suddenly backwards).
There are a lot of neat youtube videos of people who paint with both hands. You'll notice that a lot of them paint perfectly symmetrical images, like a face looking you head-on. I wonder what would happen if you asked them to paint one side with one hand, and then the other side with the other hand. Would the results be as good? I doubt it (not to dis them or anything; I certainly can't do that at all!).
One of the things that my piano instructor used to stress to me is how important it was to learn to play melodies with one's left hand; especially when dealing with jazz, the low notes are often required to be as melodious as the high notes, and besides, you look badass if you can do a mean, growling glissando below middle C. The other benefit is that it teaches you ambidexterity even if you don't realize it. Most music assumes that the left hand should be responsible for bass chords, and most instruments are shaped with a primary right hand in mind, as well. Piano is interesting in that it allows for, even requires, true ambidexterity to some degree if you want to be any good at it. Sure, you could pound on some chords while letting your right hand do a little dance and have a song--but trust me, if you learn to be as dexterous with your left-hand playing as your right, the results can be truly beautiful--you get that wonderful effect of sounding like you have a duet, even though you're just one person. There can be two very distinct personalities represented in the song, not just one single idea backed up by chords that match. It's almost like the two sides of your body are having a conversation. And that's very different from one side simply playing a supportive role. Best of all, it feels very different, in your brain. I don't know how to explain that, but it's a very cool thing. I guess it makes you feel smarter.
I find myself doing certain odd tasks with my left hand as the primary, though. Driving, for instance; my left hand is always on the wheel, and is the hand that leads when turning. My right hand simply stabilizes the wheel and fusses with the stereo at stoplights. I sincerely wonder if that's a question of convenience; if my right hand was always busy with the wheel, how would I reach the stereo and A/C in the first place? How would I drink my coffee and talk illegally on my cell phone (I don't actually do that last one)? I do a lot of, um, sanitary tasks with my left hand, as well. I can't easily explain that one, other than I must not like my left side very much.
I like the idea that one half of my body has a totally different (and yet harmonious) personality than the other half. I like the idea that they love each other. I like the idea that we could learn better, think faster, and be more capable physically if we could get our minds out of the one-sided relationship they naturally settle into, if we treat each person as two people (at least), and try to recognize them both as individuals. That's very philosophical of me, maybe uncharacteristically so; but it's a neat idea, and one that I think calls for further experimentation and investigation.
So, ultimately, this is a literature request: Suggestions, anyone?
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-10 08:26 am (UTC)