A recent new hobby of learning the bass guitar got me thinking about ambidexterity. My right hand leads the way while using scissors, and paddle sports like ping pong but not much else, I use my left (dominant) hand to write, draw, paint, garden, sew, chop food, and now I need it to press down on thick metal strings. Some recent stiffness has motivated me to not just get stronger but to start assigning new tasks to my ‘other’ hand in hopes of balancing out the load. This initially functional goal lead me down a meandering path that I’d like to share with you.
Most of us think of writing as the quintessential ambidextrous skill but there are dozens of simple tasks that we can practice doing with our non-dominant hand; opening doors or jars, picking up laundry off the floor, pouring, drinking, are all actions we can do with either hand if we slow down and try it.
A practice of engaging the ‘other’ side of our bodies can inspire us to be more aware of how we use our bodies in general. Switching hands for an action takes us out of auto-pilot and into the current moment, concentrating on the task itself. It gives us an opportunity not only to improve the use and function of a vital appendage but an opportunity to practice patience, if you’re into that kind of thing. It’s also anti-capitalistic because it’s anti-productive to slowly try and brush your teeth with your other hand. At the least, a 30 second experiment with your ‘other’ hand leading the way will hopefully leave you with a refreshed appreciation of your basic dominant hand dexterity.
But this invites more curiosity; would our dominant hand skills and strength last longer into old age if we used our non-dominant hand more? Do other artists and dexterous workers think about this and try to spread the load? Is there a lineage and wisdom of ambidextrous creators we can tap into? Did you know that your dominant foot might be on the opposite side as your dominant hand (which leg do you put in your pants first)? Thanks to our neuroplasticity, new neural pathways can be made with our changing movements, making them easier with practice and reps.
Taking things one step further, what about the rest of our bodies’ automatic movements? Can we change how we do something so that our bodies are more engaged, or more at ease? How can we use our bodies to be more in our bodies and less in our heads? Can you take a zoom call on the floor while stretching? Can we be physically silly in our private spaces at home, to play like we did when we were children, just for the feeling of it? Do we feel older when we start to play less, or do we play less because we start to feel older?
I recently elevated my main workspace to standing desk height full time, doing my computer work, drawing, and sewing while standing up. It didn’t take long to get the hang of it, my legs and hips are less stiff from less sitting, and it saves me time when moving from different projects. I also have more room in my small office without a large rolling office chair. I’m no expert on anatomy or physical therapy, but I’m trying to be an expert of my own body and it takes building strength, listening, and trying new things all the time.
The next time you are cooking or cleaning, switch your doing hand with your holding-the-dish hand for a minute. Then switch back. Does switching back and forth inform your non-dominant hand on how best to execute the process? If we give the non-dominant hand a chance to learn a new skill will it perform just as our dominant hand like a mirror image, or will it learn to perform the task in a slightly different manner?
Can this playful practice benefit us in the now and in the future? It is this seemingly inefficient, experimenting-with-living that I’m really advocating for here, a life experience with more flow, full body engagement, and more presence in the moment because after all, we only have our bodies for a short time, before and after that is veiled in mystery.