Prior to all this mental illness mumbo-jumbo, my hands Left and Right, fraternal twins with Right seconds older (Left, it is said, grabbed anything within reach to avoid birth). They’ve developed a symbiotic relationship on the one hand, while on the other they’ve taken completely diverging paths and developed distinctly disparate identities. As Left was once quoted as saying, “we’re not two of one thing; we’re one of two things.” Which is an important distinction in their world, a world where two things are commonly referred to as “one thing:” The oft pedestrian reference: A Pair.
The human body is classical in terms of design styles. It is proportional, balanced, and harmonious. Its design style highlights the importance of parity, especially object parts divisible by 2. Parity is reduced in importance only by singularity. However, singularity is an expression of a Prime Object. Unlike Parity Objects which if divided by two would result in one (not one-half), Prime Objects cannot be divided which results in an increased degree of importance. Further, for many Prime Objects, the statistical probability of locating a perfect replacement is less than one percent. A few Prime Objects are impossible to replace thereby aggrandizing their importance and diminishing the importance of two Parity Objects. It’s because of the human body’s classical design style and a common belief that a human body can exist with one-half of a pair of Parity Objects that Parity Objects often develop the kind of relationship that honors longevity, but also promotes independence.
Left and Right have been inseparable for as long as I can remember. Left is the quiet, ostentatious one when it comes to pretentious accessories (watches, bracelets); but Left is also the bearer of an object of significant proportion: the wedding ring. Meanwhile Right is clearly the winner when it comes to handedness and the Brain’s division of labor. Right was the first to learn that 90% of humans prefer to use his side as the “heavy lifter.” As such, it’s Right who reaches out for a handshake, gives a panhandler a quarter, hails a taxi, scolds a child, dials a phone number, beckons a suitor to approach. Unless the activity requires both the left and right hands, for instance playing the piano, forming a snowball, applause, typing this post, Left will wander off by himself, and routinely ends up in a jacket or trouser pocket catching a cat nap. Right couldn’t care less. He sees himself as invaluable, impossible to live without, the go-to-guy; deputized to effectuate distinguished gestures including devotional, patriotic, insulting, and vulgar (the latter is used so often it hardly qualifies as “distinguished”). As a matter of fact, Right’s not entirely sure if Left has the ability to execute the oft practiced and drilled Ambidextrous Transmutation which Right first discussed with Left the night immediately after first grade when Right snatched the yellow stick from Left and began to trace the alphabet. Right said, “Now Left, you should pay attention too; I know your holding the paper, but you’ve got to practice in case. . .” Left reached across to Right, alarmed, “In case of what? What?” Right patted the top of Left, “In case I get hurt, wrapped like a mummy; you need to be ready to jump in!” And Right made it his duty to train Left in skills like handwriting, key-turning, locker-combinations, can openers, hairbrush, toothbrush, razor, utensils, and the secret one, the never-discussed-one, the door-locked-under-cover-personal-exhaustive-and-bemoaning-ritual. Almost every night for fifteen years; sometimes more than once; then later in life strangers appeared and Right simply followed orders. Left has seen action in 3rd grade (broken wrist), 6th grade (broken arm), and 11th grade (dislocated elbow). Right beamed with pride when Left took ahold of the reins.
As of late however, Left has really taken a beating. My new found interest in cooking and woodworking has led to a number of instances in which digits on my left hand can’t retreat fast enough and feel the razor-sharp edge of a chef’s knife (or bread knife, or lock-back knife, or 3/8″ wood chisel) slicing, stabbing or chopping. And Right just keeps slicing in total abandon utterly unconscious of Brain’s danger alerts. So Left wanted to try an experiment to gauge Right’s ability to distinguish Left’s forefinger from a carrot. The picture above was taken a few moments ago. We’ll keep you apprised of the outcome.