A longitudinal fissure separates the human brain into two distinct cerebral hemispheres, connected by the corpus callosum. The sides resemble each other and each hemisphere’s structure is generally mirrored by the other side. Yet despite the strong similarities, the functions of each cortical hemisphere are different…
On the left side–the side of my head dominated by a cubicle farm–stuff’s getting lined up to get done. Woken up from what had to have been the worst case of cold-weather despair I’ve felt in years, my left brain is ready to kick some manuscript butt, some income butt, some tax butt, and some photographic butt. My left brain is tough-loving itself. My left brain is ready for stumps and puddles.
On the right side–the side of my head dominated by a grassy meadow–stuff’s getting let go. Stuff that was turning my green, sun-washed open space into a black-clouded tangle. All the self-inflicted agony and doubt and thumbtack shoes, as much a part of the human condition as capillaries and pancreas. Fear and shame and all those stories about how I’m fraudulent and no good. It’s irreconcilable stuff. And so rather than trying to convince it away I self-soothe, a mama to myself: Now, now, tangle. Sleep for a bit.
You know what happens when you let go? You make space. Space for the left side to organize the picnic, pitch the tents, and hang the paper lanterns. Space for new things to happen.
It’s spring. May as well abandon all that thinking in favour of some good, simple doing. Roses on cheeks.
What’s your state of mind? Patch together old or new photography to interpret your left and your right, right now.